At my high school reunion, everyone looked at me as if they had seen a ghost.

“Sophia Carter? Didn’t your husband say he was widowed—that you died three years ago?!”

I froze in place.

My husband works overseas with Doctors Without Borders. They don’t know him, and there’s no way they could have contacted him. Unless… I frowned.

“Which husband are you talking about?”

The class president’s face went pale, her voice trembling.

“Who else? Daniel Hughes!”

“Oh.” My tone was flat. “He’s my ex-husband.”

Daniel Hughes was my first love.

We were together for ten years, but only married for three months before divorcing.

Because of me, his assistant jumped from a building and broke her leg.

He said he had to pay my debt by taking care of her for the rest of her life—and demanded that I disappear forever.

I was certain—the widow he claimed to be wasn’t me.

The class president’s expression turned horrified, her words stumbling.

“Sophia, are you human or a ghost? I’d rather believe you’re a ghost than believe you two actually divorced!”

“Why can’t we get divorced?” I asked calmly.

She looked at me with a mix of shock and disbelief, as if the idea was impossible to accept.

“You two were the top of the class—the number one and two! Even our homeroom teacher joked after graduation that when you married, he’d demand a toast for being your matchmaker!”

“You turned down an Ivy League offer just to follow Daniel to Columbia University!”

“On your wedding day, he held you and cried his eyes out. The star of Roosevelt High, the untouchable genius, was so shaken he couldn’t even speak.”

The more she spoke, the more agitated she became.

“Even now, Roosevelt High still tells your love story. On the campus wishing wall, there’s still writing that says, ‘Sophia Carter and Daniel Hughes, forever.’”

I curled my lips faintly.

Yes, we had once loved each other deeply—but love fades with time.

And divorce? It’s never that complicated.

People grow tired, or one of them finds someone new.

Daniel was no exception.

After our wedding, he began hinting that I was dull—whether in daily life or in bed.

He said marriage was a man’s grave, and he had no intention of being buried alive.

Not long after, he was already with his young, lively assistant, Emily Brooks.

“Sophia?”

The class president waved her hand in front of me.

I came back to my senses.

“When love fades, if it doesn’t work anymore, you separate.”

Seeing my lack of interest, she dropped the subject.

But once the box was opened, my classmates grew animated, their chatter circling back to Daniel again and again.

He had been a legend at Roosevelt High, and even a decade after graduation, he was still the star everyone followed.

“Daniel Hughes went straight into a top investment bank after graduation. Within a year he was promoted to director. His salary ranks among the top three in the industry. He’s basically a financial legend.”

“And just recently, he gave an interview to an international finance magazine. His fluent English and calm aura got him labeled the ‘most charismatic financial elite.’”

“But he’s practically celibate! All these years, aside from Sophia, he’s never been seen with another woman.”

“Right! Just the other day, some influencer confessed to him during a livestream. Daniel coolly replied, ‘I have a wife,’ and hung up immediately.”

Before long, the conversation circled back to me.

“He really loves you. Claiming to be widowed—that’s just his way of denying the divorce.”

“Look at him, he’s clearly still in a cold war with you.”

“What a pity he didn’t show up today. Otherwise, maybe you two would have reconciled right here.”

The only reason I came was because I saw him reply in our Facebook Alumni Group.

The way they talked about Daniel Hughes—successful, devoted, the perfect husband—made him sound like some flawless romantic hero.

But to me, he was nothing but disgusting.

For the rest of my life, I never wanted to see him again.

My expression stayed indifferent, and I didn’t respond.

But the class president wouldn’t let it go.

“The divorce—was it you who brought it up? Don’t tell me you betrayed him?”

Her words immediately stirred whispers among the classmates.

“Sophia, I never would’ve guessed. Back in school you were the quiet, well-behaved girl.”

“Exactly. And Daniel has been posting photos and videos of you on Instagram every single day, mourning you. We all thought he was widowed.”

I snapped my head up. “What?”

The class president quickly handed me her phone.

“Look, see for yourself. Every day. Photos of you in school, your wedding pictures, even videos from your honeymoon.”

I scrolled through the posts, fury boiling inside me.

Each post came with captions.

“Baby, today is your birthday. Did you get the gift I sent you?”

“Baby, it’s been 365 days since you left. I miss you so much I can’t sleep.”

“Baby, you once said you wanted a child who looked like both of us. If you were still here, our baby would already be two years old.”

“…”

I clicked on his profile picture—it was our high school graduation photo.

He was kissing me on the cheek, and I was laughing brightly.

The memory suddenly came alive again.

That day, he whispered in my ear:

“Sophia, don’t keep smiling at me like that. I’m afraid I won’t be able to resist kissing you.”

It was one of the rare times he had spoken sweetly, making me laugh until my eyes curved.

My eyes dropped lower. His username read: Daniel Hughes (Widowed).

Anyone who saw those posts would believe I was long gone, and that he was still mourning me day and night.

And I faintly remembered why.

During our wedding vows, he had said that for us there would never be divorce—only death.

The irony was that in the end, he was the one who coldly filed for divorce.

At that time, he and Emily Brooks were no longer even hiding.

They wore childish couple’s outfits, holding hands as they strolled down the streets.

On weekends, they went hiking and camping, lying under the stars to talk about the universe.

He took her overseas to see her favorite singer’s concert, kissing her in the front row as the camera projected them onto the big screen.

That night, Emily updated her Instagram:

“I want starlight and sunlight, I want the world to surrender, but most of all, I want you by my side.”

The photo showed two hands tightly intertwined.

Those long, pale fingers with clean knuckles—I recognized them instantly as Daniel’s.

The next day, Emily sent me a video of them kissing passionately.

She was young and bold, utterly unashamed. She thought she had done nothing wrong.

“Sophia, I’m just dating Daniel. It won’t affect your marriage at all.”

“My love for him is no less than yours. For him, I don’t even need a title.”

That night, I sat in the study all alone until dawn, unable to swallow the bitterness stuck in my throat.

At sunrise, I stormed into the bedroom, eyes red, and confronted Daniel.

“How far have you gone with her?”

He buttoned his shirt slowly, face blank.

“You’re overthinking. It’s just fun between colleagues. I know my boundaries.”

The color drained from my lips, like punching into cotton—strength wasted, with nowhere to go.

Numb, I went to prepare breakfast: avocado toast with black coffee.

But he didn’t take a single bite.

“Sophia, I’m tired of this kind of breakfast. Emily once bought me bagels and coffee—I thought it was great, light and refreshing.”

But avocado toast with coffee isn’t heavy.

It wasn’t the food he was tired of.

It was me.

I clenched my fists so tightly my knuckles turned white, forcing my voice to stay steady.

“Daniel, when you’re with another woman, do you really feel no guilt toward me at all?”

He leaned back in his chair, his tone still gentle, but every word cut like a knife.

“Sophia, I thought you’d understand me.”

“The finance world is stressful. Everyone needs some way to release it, or else they’ll go insane.”

“Besides, what successful man spends his entire life with just one woman? Promising you the title of Mrs. Hughes forever—shouldn’t that be enough?”

As he spoke, his confidence grew.

“You spend all day orbiting around me, without a single real hobby. Dull. Boring.”

“You have no family background, no advantages to help my career.”

“Sophia, all you ever do is take from me. Be honest—what have you ever given me?”

I stared at him in shock. “What does any of this have to do with your affair?”

His pupils narrowed, lips curling faintly.

“You call this an affair? Don’t make me sound that bad, alright?”

My strength gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor, icy numbness spreading from my feet all the way up my body.

My parents had died early. To me, Daniel was not only my husband—he was my only family.

He once said he loved my quiet nature, loved the way I depended on him.

Now, those very traits had become the reasons he despised me.

I had checked Emily Brooks’s background. Her parents were just ordinary teachers.

What help could she possibly offer him in the world of finance?

In the end, it was just an excuse—he didn’t love me anymore.

As soon as he left for work, Robert and Margaret Hughes rushed in.

“Every marriage has bumps along the way. Daniel just lost his head for a bit—it’s not unforgivable.”

“Sophia, maybe you should reflect on yourself. Have you met his expectations in this marriage?”

“You’ve been together so many years. He must still have feelings for you.”

Margaret clutched my hand.

“You have to find a way to get rid of that other woman. Once she’s gone, Daniel will come back to you in no time.”

I treated their words like noise in the wind.

What I couldn’t accept was that ten years of love had been destroyed by a woman who appeared only a month ago.

And I wasn’t about to let her win so easily.

So I sent that video of their kiss to Emily’s parents.

As educators, they were furious their daughter had become a mistress. They dragged her to my house to apologize, insisting they would take her out of Seattle.

Just then, Daniel walked in holding a birthday cake.

And Emily and her parents arrived.

Emily glared at me, eyes filled with venom.

“Sophia, I was only secretly in love with Daniel. I told you I wouldn’t ruin your marriage. You’re truly despicable.”

Before anyone could react, she suddenly leapt out the window.

The cake crashed to the ground, Daniel’s face turning ghostly pale, as if his soul had been ripped away.

He went insane, trying to rush out the window after her, but his parents grabbed him tightly.

Thankfully, it was only the second floor. Emily didn’t die, but she broke a leg.

Daniel dragged me straight to the hospital.

My arm, forehead, and knees kept smashing against the stairwell as he pulled me, blood streaming down my face.

But he didn’t care.

He threw me in front of Emily’s hospital bed, forcing my head down, shoving me to my knees to beg her forgiveness.