I felt sick to my stomach.

I couldn't pretend nothing had happened.

All the hurt and rage I'd been burying came roaring to the surface.

"Then divorce me and marry her!" I screamed. "Kevin, you don't have to keep acting like you're the one making sacrifices here. It makes me want to puke!"

I snatched up that pair of panties and ripped them to shreds.

"Slut! You're both disgusting!"

Kevin watched my meltdown with what looked like satisfaction. He reached out and wiped the tears from the corner of my eye.

"See what you've done to yourself? Getting this worked up just to get a rise out of me—was it worth it?"

"Roberta, that's in the past. Why can't you just move on?"

"We have a daughter now. Stop talking about divorce."

I slapped his hand away and said nothing.

Our daughter had woken up from all the noise and wouldn't stop crying. I went to the bed and picked her up, rocking her gently.

Kevin watched for a moment, then left and closed the door behind him.

Once I got her settled, I went to the living room to get water for her formula. That's when the sharp smell of alcohol hit me.

I looked over at Kevin.

He was sitting on the floor, eyes glazed, several empty bottles scattered around his feet.

He looked half-dead.

Drowning his sorrows because his precious Adela is about to marry someone else?

His phone rang.

He glanced at it. Something flickered across his face. His hand trembled as he answered.

"Adela. I'm here."

The voice on the other end was soft and breathy. "Kevin, she won't let you come see me, will she?"

His expression darkened. "Adela, she's my wife. We have a daughter together. I have responsibilities."

"I know. You're a good man, Kevin. Dependable. Responsible. I always knew I had good taste."

Adela's voice was feather-light, like it might break at any moment.

Kevin gripped the phone tighter, his tone gentle. "We shouldn't see each other anymore. Adela, I hope you and him have a happy marriage. Grow old together."

Just as he was about to hang up, she pleaded:

"Kevin, can I say a few words to her?"

Kevin hesitated, then held the phone out to me. "Adela wants to talk to you. Try to control your temper—don't scare her."

I didn't take it. But Adela seemed to know I was right there.

"Roberta, since he's chosen to stay with his family, I'm begging you—please treat him well. He works so hard out there, dealing with so much stress. It's not any easier for him than it is for you."

"He doesn't like spicy food. He loves sweet drinks, especially mango pomelo sago. Don't let him have too much cold stuff in the summer—his stomach can't handle it."

"Oh, and I bought him a massage pillow. His neck and shoulders bother him. Remember to use it on him when you have time. Also, he's at a critical point in his career right now, and you just had the baby not too long ago. If you two are going to be intimate, be careful—don't get pregnant again and distract him. Make sure he uses protection..."

I let out a cold laugh. "Are you done?"

"God, you really have no shame, do you? Sticking your nose in from a thousand miles away! Since you can't let him go, how about I gift-wrap him and deliver him to your bed tomorrow? Perfect timing—you can swap out your groom!"

"After all, a shameless homewrecker like you doesn't care what people think, right? Why don't we let everyone see what you really—"

Kevin snatched the phone away. "Shut up! What the hell is wrong with you?"

I glared at him with pure hatred. "She can do it, so I can say it. You two are pathetic—a cheating bastard and his whore. And you have the nerve to coo at each other right in front of me."

Through the phone came Adela's soft, trembling sobs. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset your wife."

Kevin's face darkened. "Roberta. Apologize."

Every last shred of reason I had left went up in flames.

I was right back in that hotel room, catching them in the act. I lunged at him, fists pounding his chest, nails raking his face. "Go to hell! Kevin, are you even human? You and that whore deserve to rot! Both of you!"

Kevin shielded his face and shoved me back, seething. "Roberta, are you deaf? Didn't you hear me say goodbye to her just now? Keep acting crazy and I swear I'll fly to Harbor City tonight!"

By the time he spat out that last sentence, I saw it—a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. He wanted to go to Adela.

But he still had to play the martyr. The reasonable man making sacrifices.

Which made me the villain. The psycho who'd driven him to this.

I laughed, cold and hollow. I stormed into the bedroom, grabbed the clothes he'd just packed, shoved them into his suitcase, and hurled it at his feet. "Get out!"

"Kevin, just looking at you makes me sick."

"Fine, Roberta. You asked for this." A thin, cruel smile curved his lips. "Let's see how you manage raising a daughter alone."

He picked up the suitcase and walked out.

The apartment went silent. My legs gave out and I crumpled to the floor, arms wrapped around myself, tears streaming down without a sound.

I didn't move until my daughter started crying again. Somehow I dragged myself up, finished mixing the formula I'd abandoned halfway, and carried it back to her room.

I held her small, warm body against mine. I didn't sleep all night.

I was the one being pushed to the edge.

By him. By Adela.

On the surface, this past year since Kevin "recommitted" to our family had seemed almost normal.

But I was falling apart.

Every night, the same nightmare—that hotel bed, those two pale bodies tangled together.

I started crying for no reason. Shaking uncontrollably. Screaming. Throwing things. Dragging a knife across my own wrists.

If Kevin came home even slightly late, I'd pick a fight over nothing.

I questioned everything. Was he seeing someone else again?

At first, he'd explain himself patiently. Eventually, he just moved to the guest room.

The distance between us froze solid.

Then one day, I found myself standing on our balcony—eighteen floors up—holding my daughter, ready to jump.

That's when it hit me.

I had nearly died.

I'd become exactly what Kevin called those "dramatic" and "hysterical" new mothers. I was depressed. Clinically.

Standing on that rooftop, the cold wind slapped me awake.

I started fighting back. Doctor after doctor. Pill after pill.

But today, the man who did this to me had shoved me right back to the edge.

This rotten, suffocating excuse for a marriage—it ends here.

I lay awake until dawn. Kevin never came home.

His parents showed up instead.

Darrell Swanson looked me up and down, then started in. "Fighting with Kevin again? Roberta, if our son really wanted that Adela girl, you think he'd have married you?"

"I'm not trying to be harsh, but you've always been petty. No vision. If you'd just kept your mouth shut back then, Kevin wouldn't have lost his job. He'd still be collecting dividends every month instead of working himself to the bone."

Jemima Swanson pulled out her phone with a theatrical sigh. "Roberta, a man as successful as Kevin is bound to attract attention. That's just how it is. You need to give him a son—lock down his heart. Otherwise, you'll really have something to cry about."

She shoved the screen in my face.

Kevin had posted on social media last night, after he left.

In the photo, he had his arm wrapped tight around Adela, wiping her tears, his face soft with tenderness.

Traveled a thousand miles, just to see you one more time.

I opened my phone, but I couldn't find Kevin's post anywhere.

Then it hit me—he'd blocked me.

I called him again and again. Every single one went unanswered.

After the last rejected call, I asked quietly, "Are you sure he went to see Adela?"

Jemima's face lit up with smug satisfaction. Right in front of me, she pulled out her own phone and dialed Kevin.

He picked up instantly. "Mom, what's up?"

Her voice turned honeyed. "Sweetheart, where are you? Did you and Roberta have another fight?"

Through the speaker, Kevin's flat tone carried a hint of disdain. "Wouldn't call it that. She just went crazy on her own. Probably bored out of her mind sitting at home all day."

"I'm in Harbor City, Mom. Don't tell Roberta. I'm seeing Adela one last time, then I'll be back soon."

The call lasted less than a minute.

So he really had rushed there overnight.

My chest felt hollow, carved out—and yet, strangely, something loosened.

When I didn't react, Jemima clicked her tongue. "Did you hear that? Kevin's always complaining to me about how dull and stupid you are. All you do is pick fights with him. If it weren't for the baby, he'd have left you ages ago!"

"This Adela girl seems quite nice, actually. I heard both her parents are teachers—more than good enough for my Kevin. Unlike some people, with no mother, no father. Who knows, maybe you're just bad luck walking!"

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. If someone has a taste for rotten cucumbers, let them have it."

I delivered that line without flinching, then picked up Poppy and walked out without looking back. The old couple's curses faded behind me.

I'd always known they didn't like me. That's why I'd bent over backward for them after marrying Kevin. But not anymore.

Since Kevin wasn't in town, I'd go to him myself.

I stopped by a law office first and picked up divorce papers, then caught a cab to Harbor City.

Using the photo from Kevin's mother, I headed straight for the hotel where they were meeting.

Inside the grand lobby, Adela stood in a wedding dress, about to exchange rings with her groom.

Kevin watched from the audience below, looking like half his soul had been ripped out.

His voice was thick with restrained longing. "Adela, I hope you'll be happy."

Adela's eyes glistened with tears.

One on the stage, one below—they looked like star-crossed lovers torn apart by fate.

I walked in from outside, stopped right in front of Kevin, and raised my voice. "Since you and Adela are so desperately in love, let me do you both a favor!"

"Kevin, let's get divorced!"