Lydia turned her head, saying, "I don't want Mom to go with us."

Looking at her round back of the head, I couldn't hide the bitterness in my heart.

"It's okay. I should blame myself for spending too little time with Lydia."

I said gently, "Should Mommy make Lydia's favorite dish at home?"

She was moved, looking at me.

"Okay, Lydia wants to eat Mommy's sandwiches."

My heart warmed up a bit.

Then they two left.

I stopped forcing myself, lifted my feet, and collapsed on the bed when I returned to the room.

"If it were the 22-year-old Daisy, she would decisively get a divorce at the first glance of the diary."

...

"She would rather have a fall out than maintain such a peaceful life."

"But the 32-year-old Daisy is a coward."

"She has been immersed herself in the sweet life for seven years, and she has long lost her pride."

"It's just a diary written by an eighteen-year-old. Who hasn't had a crush when they were young? It's time to move on."

I quietly opened the diary and started reading it.

[If I had to be with someone I didn't love in the future, I would rather not have children.]

After reading this, I was crying bitterly.

George didn't want children before. He had said he didn't want me to experience the pain of childbirth.

I never doubted it.

Then due to drunkenness, I got pregnant.

He wanted to persuade me to have an abortion.

I insisted on keeping it, which was how Lydia came into being.

I fell into a deep sleep with tears on my face.

In my dream, I met George, who was twenty-two years old.

I had run away from home after arguing with my father because of his favoritism.

He was silent, silently holding an umbrella for me.

"There will always be someone who loves you. I will always be here."

I cried loudly in the rain for fear of being seen by others.

He stood in front of me, his back soaked in rain. He used an umbrella to shield me from the wind and rain.

When I woke up again, I realized it was late.

I quickly got up. I hadn't cooked Lydia's favorite sandwiches yet.

I stubbornly refused the help of the nanny and prepared a table of dishes myself.

But the father and daughter did not come back until it was dark.

I looked in the direction of the gate repeatedly.

It was empty at the entrance.

The nanny kindly advised, saying, "Mrs. Marshall, maybe they have eaten outside. Why don't you eat first?"

I was a little absent-minded, saying, "But Lydia wants to eat sandwiches made by me."

Finally, I put on my clothes and went out.

I wanted to find out where they had been.

I rushed to the aquarium, but it was closed.

The one in charge received me warmly, saying, "Mr. Marshall has taken Miss Lydia and Miss Paisley back."

"Miss Paisley..."

I realized who it was and had some understanding in my heart.

I arrived at the White family, but I didn't dare to go in.

The villa was brightly lit. They were harmonious inside.

There was faint laughter and the childish words of Lydia coming from inside.

"I like Auntie's sandwiches the most."

I stood in the shadow outside the door, like an invisible shadow peeping at other people's happy lives.

Through the window, I could see George, who was gentle and good-looking.

His voice was clear and melodious as he said, "Paisley is sick. She still accompanied you to the aquarium. What should you say, Lydia?"

"Thank you, Auntie. If Auntie were my mother, I could eat sandwiches every day."

"Lies can deceive others, but not oneself."

I left in a daze.

I thought of the child, who called me mom with a smile.

I thought of the man, who called me his wife tenderly.

"In the end, do they both like Paisley?"

"And what about me? What am I?"

Finally, my consciousness fell into chaos.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying in the hospital.

...

There was a figure beside me.

I instinctively thought it was George. Turning my head away, I didn't want to have a look.

I heard a childish voice unexpectedly.

"Are you awake?"

I turned my head and saw a half-grown boy, looking thin and dark. He was nervous after seeing me wake up.

"The person on the phone couldn't get through. I paid for the medical expenses."

At this time, a doctor walked in sternly.

"You don't even know your health condition. You had a high fever and went into shock. If it weren't for this kind-hearted boy..."

Only then did I understand the situation.

It turned out that I fainted on the roadside. This half-grown boy discovered me and sent me here.

I had a high fever all night in the hospital. I only recovered in the early morning.

After repaying the boy's money and saying a few words of thanks, I hurriedly returned home.

No one was at home.

I opened the diary inexplicably and read the last few entries.

[If you like him...]

[I will make your wish come true, even if it means using any means necessary.]

"What else do I not understand when I read this?"

"Paisley likes Zachary."

"George has been accompanying me and infatuated with me by my side."

"He does so to prevent me from getting back together with Zachary and interfering with Paisley's happy life."

My heart seemed to be torn into pieces. As I smiled, tears fell.

The nanny gently knocked on the door. I casually responded.

"Miss Paisley from the White family has a high fever. No one is taking care of her. Mr. Marshall and Miss Lydia will stay there. They won't come back."

I laughed at myself.

"I didn't notice such obvious details before."

"What's even more foolish is that I can't bear to let go of these false beauties."

Concealing my disappointment, I calmly spoke.

"It doesn't matter."

"Alice, please clear out my things."

Alice was puzzled, asking, "Mrs. Marshall, what's this about?"

I smiled, saying, "Go clear them out."

"Once I let go, it becomes easier."

Soon, my things were cleared out. I called a moving company to pack them up and send them to another place.

I looked at the empty home. The only thing left was the paintings in the studio.

Early the next morning...

I had someone move all the paintings out and pile them in the yard.

Among them, the majority were portraits.

I looked at the pile of paintings on the ground.

in the paintings, there were George's affectionate eyes, Lydia's smiling face, and countless moments that once witnessed my happiness.

I had someone help me pile the paintings in the yard and set them on fire.

The flames shot up and engulfed the scrolls.

When the flames were roaring...

George came back with Lydia.

He looked at the burned paintings, frowning and asking, "What's wrong with you?"

It wasn't until the flames engulfed the familiar profile on the paintings that I looked up at George.

"George, let's get a divorce."