Once a beautiful marriage became flawed, a once-strong relationship might gradually disintegrate.

Our marriage entered a silent treatment, with neither side yielding.

I stopped cleaning for him and focused on myself.

In the painting room, he made a mess with his paints, and I remained indifferent.

One day, returning from the grocery store, I overheard Ayden getting out of a luxury car with a woman in a colorful dress.

It was Lydia.

Although we were the same age, she looked exceptionally well-maintained.

Judging from her appearance alone, she looked no different from a 40-year-old woman.

I had to admire how money could enhance appearances.

I looked down at my hands, callused and worn, dressed in simple clothes I mended to save money for the family.

In comparison, she was a luxurious woman, and I felt like a simple grandmother from the countryside, the gap between us felt vast.

No wonder Ayden couldn't forget her.

But did that diminish my youth?

I walked past them without a word.

Ayden followed, saying, "Don't overthink it. We just happened to be on the same path. She's just giving me a ride."

I stayed silent, uninterested in his lies.

That night, Jeffrey and Zoey came for dinner.

Jeffrey, a perpetual bachelor, was aimless, while Zoey, married to an outstanding civil servant, was pregnant.

I prepared a nice dinner for them.

At the table, Zoey, sensing tension, asked, "Mom, there is nothing unpleasant between you and Dad, right?"

I paused with my hand picking up the food and said nothing.

Jeffrey, impatient, said, "Mom, you and Dad are older now. If this gets out, it'll be a joke to the neighbors. Just stop."

He indiscriminately blamed me for everything.

Noticing my frozen expression, Zoey subtly pulled at Jeffrey's sleeve, urging him to stop.

But Jeffrey slammed his fork on the table, exclaiming, "You know how much Dad has done for this family.

"I have met Aunt Lydia. She's nice and generous. She helped with half the down payment for my car and gave Zoey several new outfits.

"Dad is an honest man, not good at speaking. He hides his feelings in his paintings. It's not what you think.

"Mom, don't complicate things. Just make up."

I realized I had been the only one who was kept in the dark about the whole thing, and they had already had contact with Lydia.

Zoey looked down, perhaps out of guilt.

After all, one should be grateful for what one had received.

I looked at Jeffrey as if seeing him for the first time.

I remembered raising him through tough times and how he was once attached to me.

But time changed everything.

I wiped my mouth and whispered, "I'm full, you guys eat."

I ignored Jeffrey's pleas for reconciliation.

Seeing my indifference, he angrily stood up, saying, "Mom, you're really senile and stubborn."

After saying this, he slammed the door and left.

As for Ayden, he remained silent, perhaps unsure of what to say.

What should have been a pleasant meal turned sparse and tense.

After the silent treatment, I slept in a separate room from Ayden.

My room was next to his drawing room, and the old house had poor soundproofing.

One night, I was awakened from a deep sleep by the sound of a brush moving across paper.

I got up, put on my clothes, and through the crack in the door, saw Ayden working at his desk, writing something furiously.

When I opened the door, his white hair shone brightly in the light.

Seeing me, he paused and said, "Sorry to disturb your sleep," smiling as he raised his hand.

He then held up a painting, revealing a youthful and beautiful woman with long hair and a gentle smile.

It was an image of my younger self that he had captured.

He sought my forgiveness with this painting.

"Camille, I'm sorry for hiding things from you."

There was a gleam in his eyes. "Give me another chance; I will treat you and this family well."

I hesitated before replying, "Ayden, let's separate."

He suddenly looked up at me, and the light in his eyes dimming.

*****

Ayden and I met in college.

That year, we were 20 years old, in the prime of our lives, and full of vigor and vitality.

He majored in fine arts and I majored in music.

Initially, we seemed incompatible, but a chance encounter sparked a romance.

He was heartbroken after a breakup and he wanted to hide somewhere where no one was around to vent.

Unfortunately, the place he chose was my piano practice room.

I seemed to be a beacon of light in his life, illuminating his helpless heart.

As we got to know each other, I learned about his ex-girlfriend, Lydia.

After graduation, we became a couple and went on a trip to T City, where we had a car accident.

At the critical moment, Ayden shielded me with his body, preventing serious injury.

And that moment became his lifelong get-out-of-jail-free card as long as it was not a matter of principle.

We soon married and built a happy family.

I never doubted his sincerity, but sincerity could change.

I once thought we would live happily ever after, but by age 60, our fate had crumbled.

The next morning, I took all the family documents and went to the court.

We exchanged silence as we drove, the atmosphere heavy.

The waiting area of the court was filled with a cold atmosphere.

My phone buzzed with messages.

Jeffrey's insults were nothing more than words of disdain for me, such as being shameless and betraying the family.

Zoey sent me a long and heartfelt message, trying to keep me.

I ignored them, having made my decision after our last meal.

Looking at the divorce certificate, I knew that signing it would end everything.

Ayden asked, "Do we have to sign? Can we not separate?"

I closed my eyes and sighed, "Sign it."

After nearly 40 years together, our separation took only ten minutes.

I walked out of the court alone, a weight lifted from my heart, feeling relieved.

I inhaled the fresh air and watched the bustling street, finally reclaiming my life.

When a couple divorced, their shared property was typically split in half.

Ayden, feeling guilty, offered me more property, but I firmly rejected his good intentions.

Since I chose to separate, no one owed anyone anything.

Each of us must follow our path.

I moved to a villa in the suburbs, the place I once planned to share with Ayden in our old age.

Now, it was mine alone.

The villa was spacious, but living alone could be lonely.

Fortunately, there were many stray cats and dogs in the suburbs, and I've adopted several stray cats and dogs to keep me company.

I used to hesitate to buy new clothes, but now I purchase whatever I like, regardless of the cost.

After wasting half my life, I was determined to enjoy the latter part.

I shared my daily life on social media, where Ayden often commented on my posts, praising my new clothes and my pets cute.

Sometimes, he would send me private messages to ask how I was doing and express his concern by asking me how the weather was getting cold and asking me to keep warm.

Belated affection was cheaper than anything.

I forgot it as soon as I read it, let alone reply to his messages.

*****

One day, a luxury car unexpectedly parked in front of my villa.

Lydia stepped out, adorned in expensive jewelry that caught the sunlight.