The exaggerated performance fueled even more laughter.

Catherine, seated beside Vance, collapsed onto his shoulder in hysterics. The man remained silent.

Aiden turned, still grinning. "Vance, is it like..."

His words died as he caught sight of Rebecca standing in the doorway. His smile faltered, and his tongue twisted. "R-Rebecca?"

The others followed him to look over, all freezing.

Catherine got up from Vance's shoulder, grinning. "Oh, this must be the legendary Mrs. Bradford. Come on in. I'm Catherine Welch, Vance's friend."

Rebecca scanned the room, her blood running cold.

Finally, Vance stood up and walked over to her. "Rebecca? What are you doing here? They were just joking. Don't take it to heart."

She stared at him, feeling utterly alienated. For the first time, he seemed a stranger. In the face of mockery toward his wife, he sided with them.

Aiden put down his glass, apologizing, "Y-Yeah, it was a joke. I'm sorry, Rebecca. Please don't be mad."

Vance moved closer, attempting to embrace her. "Rebecca."

But Rebecca recalled Catherine leaning on him earlier, his masturbation in the bathroom, and the name he uttered in the climax.

That hand, the one reaching for her now, felt utterly filthy. She quickly stepped back, avoiding him.

"Rebecca?" Vance stared at his empty hand in confusion, then sighed. "I apologize on their behalf. Don't be upset, okay? I'll get a gift to make up for you. Anything you want."

Catherine shot Aiden a playful glare. "This is your fault, Aiden. Apologize properly. Not everyone's like me, clumsy and thick-skinned, laughing off your jokes."

Rebecca sneered at her cheeky speech, but these men didn't even sense the manipulation.

Aiden grumbled, "I already did! Didn't know she'd show up. It was just a joke."

"A joke is only funny if the target laughs," Rebecca retorted, her voice shaking with newfound courage.

For five years, this curse of her unworthiness of Vance had confined her. Mocking glances made her shrink, retreating like a quail to lick her wounds alone.

Aiden winced, "But I already apologized."

"I-I don't accept it!" Rebecca trembled harder, defying mockery for the first time.

Aiden mumbled, "Then what do you want?"

Rebecca shook her head, having no answer. She just rejected their ridicule and Vance's alignment with them.

"Enough, everyone." Vance intervened, positioning himself between her and Aiden.

He was the leader of the group, his words carrying authority. After graduation, his business savvy had built their empire.

The room fell silent, and he nodded, turning back to Rebecca.

"Hey," he said evenly, his gaze as detached as ever, unlike the warmth in Catherine's video. "These are my longtime friends. They didn't mean to hurt your feelings. No malice, just banter. Forgive them this once. I'll have the driver take you home."

"Rebecca," Catherine pouted, sidling up to Vance. "If you have to blame someone, blame me. This gathering is for my return. Vance, invite her to stay. I'll toast her with an apology."

Her phony tone only disgusted Rebecca further and drove her to squint at Vance with resentment. It was his very indulgence that fed Catherine's boldness.

"I'm fine," she said, holding back her bitterness. "I don't drink, especially not sour alcohol."

"Vance, is she insulting me? I..." Catherine wrinkled her nose, choking back her tears. "She misunderstood me, but it's fine. Don't blame her."

Vance's jaw tightened. "Catherine meant well. Why are you being sarcastic?"

"Meant well?" Rebecca snorted.

Only a fool would think those words were spoken with good intentions, but Vance wasn't foolish.

He simply showed bias, siding with whom he favored rather than who was right. That side was always the one closest to his heart.

Rebecca eyed the pair and their friends, feeling as though an insurmountable chasm lay between them. They formed a solid unit, while she was an intruder in their world.

She was forever extraneous. Even lingering on the periphery felt out of place.

She swallowed her bitterness, gave a cold laugh, and turned to leave. Behind her, Catherine's voice rang out. "Vance, she..."

"It's fine. I'll talk to her when I get back," Vance said, waving it off. "Let's continue."

Secretly, he glanced at the retreating figure, texting the driver to escort her.

Rebecca yearned to walk gracefully, but every step she took felt more unstable. Agitation only worsened her limp, her frantic exit mirroring Aiden's mockery.

That would definitely make them laugh even harder.

She wiped her tears with a trembling hand, hastening and wobbling more. The driver chased after her, but she was nowhere to be found outside the restaurant.

The driver reported it to Vance, who frowned and called her. Rebecca rejected it and turned off her phone at the next one.

Aiden was irked. "Her temper is just too short. You spoil her too much, man. With your status and looks, any wife would worship you. Yet she sulks? You're too soft."

Vance stayed silent, but the others piled on.

"Aiden is right. You sacrifice too much for her and the family, working tirelessly. She doesn't appreciate or support you. Throwing a tantrum over the smallest things. Worth it?"

"Marrying her was charity. Who else wants a cripple? Without you, she'd wed another disabled person."

Catherine, reading the room, interjected timely, "Don't mind their harsh words, but as your long-time friends, we're truly concerned about you. We're blunt, but it's nothing personal. Don't take it to heart."

"I'm not upset," Vance replied, pocketing his phone. "Doesn't matter. She won't stray far. Let's go on."

In five years, home was her only refuge. He was not worried because she had nowhere else to go.

Aiden eyed Catherine, muttering, "Catherine is the bigger person here. If you two hadn't split..."

"Don't talk nonsense." Catherine glared. "Keep your mouth shut for one night. Vance is married now. That's inappropriate."

Her gaze turned wistful toward Vance. "I don't want much. Just want to be accepted by you guys and stay by your side. That's enough."

"Silly talk." Aiden thumped his chest loyally. "You're forever our princess, and we will never let anyone bully you. Vance, right?"

Vance swirled his wine, the scene evocative of old times. He'd sit back, watching his crew banter with Catherine, not intervening unless things got out of hand.

Now queried, he smiled faintly. "Of course."

...

Rebecca didn't go home. Instead, she settled into her booked hotel.

All the pent-up grievances and pain were unleashed the moment she closed the door behind her. Aiden's limp-mocking replayed endlessly in her mind, and their laughter haunted her like a curse.

She had known all along their whispers behind her back, but she had never told Vance.

She understood his work's toll, so she avoided conflicts, unwilling to add to his burdens or strain his bonds with his friends.

Now, she saw her folly. He'd never clash with them over her; their friendship trumped everything.

To him, she was nothing more than a debt—a burden that dragged him down. Without her, his life would be so much easier.

"She is a cripple. Who else would want her?"

"Yet she still expects so much from Vance?"

"I'd rather be the crippled one than wed one and face ridicule."

"Other CEOs flaunt elegant partners; Vance? He doesn't even have someone he can take out in public."

...

The gossip and ridicule that Rebecca had heard over the past five years came rushing back like a tidal wave.

She felt like she was being dragged under, drowning in it all. She couldn't breathe, the pain so intense it felt as if her chest and lungs were being torn apart.

Trembling, she accessed a locked album on her phone—something untouched for five years. It contained photos and videos from her school days, documenting her dance practices and shows.

Post-injury, she sealed these relics, set a password, and forced herself not to open it.

Now her shaky finger tapped on a random video. The music played; she spun, flipped, and performed a mid-air split.

She was vibrant, agile, and applauded thunderously.

Was saving Vance wrong? But even then, marriage wasn't her aim.

He insisted, orchestrating a grand proposal and kneeling before her with a huge diamond ring that sparked hope.

She turned off her phone and collapsed in sobs. It was the first unbridled cry in five years.

She wept until her tears ran out, but pain remained burning in her chest, licking at her from the inside like fire. But it was that very pain that brought her a moment of clarity in the suffocating whirlpool of emotions.

The more it hurt, the more lucid she became.

She rushed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face to calm down. The mirror reflected her dulled self, and she bit her lip. "Rebecca, one good cry is enough. No more. Now, eat well, rest well, and tomorrow, focus on your exam."

The one thing she could be thankful for was that, during those long five years, she had spent her time studying to kill the boredom.

Not because she had grand ambitions. She just had so much time and had nothing to do.

Waiting for Vance to come home had been her whole life, but he always came home late. At first, she thought it was because of work. Later, she realized that he just didn't want to face her too soon. She had overheard it herself.

Back then, she understood how hard he worked. She even gathered the courage to show concern for him, making him special meals and delivering them to his office, only to overhear the hard truth.

He was talking with a friend who asked why he hadn't gone home yet. There was hardly anyone left in the office, and yet he, the CEO, was still working overtime.

Vance had replied, "I don't know how to face my wife's enthusiasm."

Simple-minded back then, Rebecca didn't understand the implication, but that friend did.

He gasped, "No way! Don't tell me you haven't slept together yet."

Vance fell silent because that was the truth. He never touched her, even though she had hinted or taken the initiative. Every time, he found excuses like her condition or his tiredness to reject her.

She wasn't stupid. Gradually, she realized he simply didn't love her, and that was why he didn't want to touch her. But hearing it from his mouth hurt her deeply, the pain almost suffocating.

His friend, half-jokingly, half-seriously, asked him, "You don't mean to tell me you have no physical reaction at all, do you? Anyway, she's pretty."

Vance's reply was the needle that pierced deep into her heart, and for the following years, it continually wounded her. Every time she thought about it, the pain would gnaw at her.

"I've tried," Vance replied. "I wanted to have a normal married life with her, but every time I look at her leg, I lose all interest."

So, that was how it was. Her leg, the one scarred and atrophied from saving him, in his eyes was disgusting, revolting. It was something that turned him off and killed his desire.

She never knocked on the office door that day. The meal she had prepared with such care was thrown into the trash can.

From then on, she never set foot in his company again.

After that incident, Rebecca turned to books.

She hadn't planned far ahead; she simply wanted to infuse her empty life with quiet pursuits. Keeping busy might dull the sting of those words.

She never expected these small, personal distractions would, in the end, become her lifeline.

She needed to ace tomorrow's exam. She had to leave this place, as far away as possible. The thought still brought intense pain to her heart.

She couldn't distinguish if the ache stemmed from Vance or from her five wasted years. But it no longer mattered.

What counted was refusing to wallow in the pain any longer. Even if it lingered for ages before fading, she was committed to saving herself.

She ordered a light meal and a set of disposable clothes. Then she phoned the front desk for a morning wake-up call, and at last, she compelled herself to sleep.

Perhaps due to the previous night's insomnia, she slept soundly.

The next day, she woke up on time and turned on her phone. Messages poured in, the device vibrating incessantly, all from Vance.

She skipped reading them, fearing they'd disrupt her focus on the exam. After breakfast, she left for the exam center, which was a mere five-minute walk away.

As soon as she stepped out of the hotel, her phone buzzed with a call from Vance. In a panic, she nearly dropped it, swiftly rejecting the call before shutting it off again.

Emerging from the exam hall, her heart pounded with exhilaration. She felt satisfied with her performance.

The oral examiner smiled throughout their conversation. She understood most of what she heard, and the written parts felt steady and controlled.

She dared not predict her score, but at least she had completed everything. She wasn't useless after all.

Walking alone on the sidewalk, she kept her head down, mentally reviewing every detail of the exam until a pair of leather shoes appeared in her path.

Expecting no deliberate block, she couldn't retract her step in time and bumped into the person.

Without his steadying grip, she would have fallen. And that person was the last one she wanted to see.

"Rebecca," Vance muttered, his voice strained.

She remained silent, sensing his barely contained anger. He grasped her shoulders and softened his tone, asking in his usual gentle, warm manner, "Why didn't you come home?"

He asked that question while knowing the answer, but it wasn't the time to argue with him.

Her bag had just been knocked to the ground, the flap open, and her exam pen peeked out, which could give away her participation in the exam.

She quickly wrenched free, squatted down, shoved the pen inside, and secured the bag.

"What's that?" he asked, looking at her bag.

"Nothing. Just a pen," she replied, trying to sound natural, though her fingers gripped the bag so tightly they blanched.

"Let me see it," he said.

She clutched it closer. "What do you need a pen for?"

"Give me your phone," he demanded.

After a brief standoff, she extracted it from the bag and handed it over.

He glanced at the dead phone, then handed it back. "I called you so many times and sent countless messages. Why didn't you respond? Still angry?"

She held the phone, relieved he hadn't delved into her emails or discovered the exam-related messages.

If that was his only concern...

She had no desire to argue with him or explain anything. She simply wanted to flee far away, and that urge intensified in his presence.

Mistaking her silence for lingering resentment, he sighed, "You're usually so understanding. Why run off over this?"

Rebecca swore she intended to stay calm, but his words would provoke even a saint.

"Was it my fault? Was I being unreasonable?" she shot back. "Should I have joined in and complimented Aiden on his spot-on imitation?"

Vance's face flushed with awkwardness. "That's not what I meant. You can't control what others say. There is no need to take their words to heart."

"I can't control them, but you could!" she retorted, staring at him. "What were you doing? Laughing with Catherine pressed against you?"

"Rebecca!" His expression darkened, revealing anger for the first time.

She understood that Catherine was his sore spot. What more was there to say?

She hugged her bag, trying to walk past him. His arm extended, wrapping around her waist and pulling her close.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," he murmured. "I just don't want you to misunderstand Catherine. She is a friend, just like the others. I only see her as a sister. She's unmarried, so speaking ill of her isn't fair."

Rebecca couldn't grasp his reasoning. Hadn't they brought this on themselves? Catherine had leaned on him shamelessly, yet they feared commentary?

She managed only a faint "Oh."

"Rebecca..." he paused, detected her detachment. "Why still upset? You stayed at a hotel alone and didn't return home. I haven't even reproached you much, yet your anger persists?"

That was his typical line. In his mind, it was her fault for everything.

"Come on, let's drop it," he cooed. "Lunch first. Then I'll accompany you to the mall, alright?"

Rebecca considered it. That was fine. She had something to tell him anyway.

Vance led her to a nearby restaurant. As they entered, Rebecca instinctively lowered her head, raised her collar, and shuffled behind him to downplay her limp.

It was a habit, though she soon relaxed. If she didn't measure up, so be it. She wasn't planning to match him anymore.

Once seated, Vance placed the order, passing her the utensils, when the food arrived.

"Dig in. These are all your favorites," he said, his voice as soft as ever.

Rebecca eyed the spicy dishes and smiled bitterly. He had no idea she couldn't handle spice; home dinners were always spicy because he preferred them.

"I'm not hungry," she said, not touching the food. "I have something to tell you."

"What is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Wherever you want to go, I'll join you. I have the whole afternoon free. We can hang out, and then we'll go to your parents' house for dinner."

She stared at his barely perceptible smile, her heart flooding with profound bitterness as she contemplated the words she was about to utter.