My ex-husband and I were invited to participate in a live variety show about divorced couples.

On the day of the broadcast, I unintentionally caused a scene.

Under the gaze of numerous cameras, my ex, Titus, shouted, "Ariana! I told you more than once not to interfere. Are you deaf?"

Netizens quickly reacted with comments like, "With such a temper, it's no wonder you got divorced."

"I can't imagine how hard Ariana's life was before. Maybe she even suffered domestic violence."

As a result, Titus faced significant online cyberbullying, earning the nickname "Grumpy."

However, by the end of the program, public opinion shifted.

——

I had planned to travel but rushed back to the office after my agent's call.

"Luna, you weren't like this before. You used to discuss announcements with me, so why did you take on this variety show without my consent?"

Frustrated, I threw my sunglasses onto Luna's desk, and my breathing was even a little rapid.

She awkwardly laughed, placed the sunglasses back on my nose, then pulled me to the sofa. "This variety show is not my choice. It's Mr. Collins'."

I frowned, "Is Titus sick? He didn't want to publicize our marriage before, yet now he's participating in a divorce show?"

Luna quickly covered my mouth, fearing I'd be overheard.

"Don't be angry."

"Mr. Collins anticipated your reaction and promised to send you two tickets to your favorite musical as compensation halfway through the show."

To convince me, she showed me the chat records.

My anger faded, and I smiled, "Alright, I'll reluctantly attend."

After all, those tickets were highly sought after.

Since he was so sincere, I had to agree.

On the day of filming, I discovered it was a live broadcast.

In addition to the two of us, the program team also invited another divorced couple to participate.

I knew Natalia. We used to be in the same crew. Her ex-husband Atlas was a famous director.

Their divorce stemmed from a similar breakdown to ours in their relationship.

The first task was to prepare dinner together.

Besides being a clumsy person and a kitchen destroyer, I had never stepped foot in a kitchen.

Titus was busy with the task, and I stood behind him, at a loss as to what to do.

The chemistry between Natalia and her ex drew praise from viewers.

"They work so well together."

"Yeah! Look at the other side, it's totally different."

"Why doesn't Ariana go to help?"

...

My agent off-camera gestured for me to assist.

I hesitated for a moment, then walked over to Titus who was washing vegetables, and asked, "Do you need help?"

He paused, turned to look at me and said, "No need."

"Okay." I smiled awkwardly.

The screen filled with comments.

"Is this still the social butterfly Ariana? She gets humiliated."

"Anyone with a bit of common sense wouldn't ask if they need help. The smarter ones would have already helped."

"I guess the divorce was because she doesn't do housework."

The viewers all shared the same thoughts.

I felt a rush of embarrassment, fearing rumors about me would surface after the show.

"How about I help you wash the vegetables?"

"No need."

"Or I can cut the vegetables."

"No, I don't want to add to my workload."

It wasn't that I didn't want to help, but he didn't need it at all.

I noticed Titus' sleeves were wet and suggested, "Why don't you change your clothes first?"

Titus glanced at his sleeves and agreed. Before leaving, he instructed me not to touch anything in the kitchen.

While he was away, I quickly set the pot to boil oil.

The oil was hot, but I hadn't had time to wash the vegetables.

Seeing the oil spurting out, I grabbed a bag of frozen chicken from the refrigerator, cut it open, and poured it into the hot oil.

I hurriedly turned down the heat but was burned on my arm by the splattered chicken.

Just when I was panicking, Titus appeared, swiftly covering the pot and turning off the stove.

He looked down at me, his voice stern, "Ariana! Didn't I tell you not to do this? Didn't you hear me?"

The surrounding staff were startled, and even Natalia paused to look.

I covered my injured arm and lowered my head, softly apologizing, "I'm sorry."

A surge of emotion threatened to bring me to tears, but I wiped my eyes just in time.

Noticing the tension, Natalia chimed in, "Why don't you go treat your burn first, Ariana?"

Titus stiffened, his gaze on my arm, but he remained silent.

I nodded and walked upstairs, head down.

The live broadcast chat exploded with comments.

"With such a bad temper, no wonder he got divorced."

"Ariana must have had a tough past, maybe even suffered domestic violence."

"Why be so mean? He could just talk nicely."

"I can feel the oppression through the screen; if I were Ariana, I would divorce him too."

The comments were filled with accusations against Titus.

Titus had not looked at the comments on the screen since the live broadcast began, and he ignored those malicious comments.

In order to increase the popularity, the program crew switched the camera directly to my room.

I sat alone in the dim light, forgetting about the cameras.

A knock came at the door. "Ariana, open the door."

It was Titus' voice, and his tone seemed to have softened a lot.

After a moment's hesitation, I opened the door.

Titus handed me a bag of ice cubes and said, "If you don't want to leave scars, apply it."

After that, he paused and continued, "I'll come up and call you when dinner is ready."

I said nothing, placed the ice on my burn, and closed the door.

I couldn't understand why he was participating in this show, seemingly enduring internet backlash.

He clearly needed to adjust his behavior.

The room was silent, only the sound of leaves rustling outside.

Meanwhile, the comments continued. "What a hypocrite."

"He must have realized the scene was broadcasted, so he came to put on an act."

"Does Titus have a performing personality? His acting skills are better than his company's artists."

...

I fell asleep without dinner, ignoring knocks during the night.

When I woke up the next day, I found out that the program team had assigned a secret mission to Titus and Atlas last night, and they went out early in the morning.

I thought Natalia and I were free, but the team arranged for us to collect seashells at the beach to make DIY gifts for our ex-husbands.

The beach was just a short walk away.

Collecting shells was easy, but turning them into gifts was challenging.

Natalia quickly finished making a dreamcatcher while I hesitated over my pile of shells.

The viewers on the screen were much more positive than I was. "Ariana looks lifeless."

"She must be thinking, who understands? After being scolded, she still has to make him a gift."

"She's too funny."

...

I was just a clumsy person who didn't know what to do.

I decided to string the shells into a bracelet.

He would throw it in the trash after the show anyway.

I finished the bracelet just as they returned.

Natalia presented Atlas with a dreamcatcher, and he handed her a beautiful gift box.

She sneezed upon opening it, revealing red roses, then hugged him in gratitude.

When the camera turned to us, the atmosphere became awkward.

I clenched my teeth and handed my humble bracelet to Titus.

"Just something I made." I wanted to add, "Take it as a formality," but held back, fearing more backlash.

Titus hesitated but accepted the bracelet.

I looked at him expectantly, hoping for a gift in return, but he went straight upstairs after accepting it, leaving me alone.

I coughed in frustration.

The comments continued. "Titus is hard to evaluate."

"The production team arranged for both parties to prepare gifts for each other without their knowledge. I think he went to play."

"It's really disappointing, even though Ariana's gift wasn't that great either."

"I'm so angry. Why is he like this?"

"I'm so angry! Titus is irresponsible at all. Their relationship was exposed by paparazzi. They won't make it public until they are discovered! Don't tell me it's for Ariana's career."

I glanced at the comments, each one hitting me like a stone, making it hard to breathe.

Back in my room, I noticed the light on in Titus' room, a hint of loss in my eyes before I lowered my gaze.