At our wedding ceremony, Rose Lane's assistant, Zachary Zimmer, accidentally projects the wrong photo on the screen.

The huge screen initially shows a wedding portrait of Rose and me. But suddenly, it turns into a photo featuring Rose and Zachary in wedding clothes. Both of them held hands with each other while looking into each other's eyes lovingly. It was clear that they looked very happy together.

Everyone gasps in shock.

Zachary begins sobbing quietly and asks if I can delay the wedding.

Rose remains calm and collected as she starts throwing out suggestions to me.

"The guests are already here, so it'll be embarrassing for us if we delay the wedding ceremony. Besides, it also spells ill luck for us if we do that. No one recognizes the groom's face anyway. Why don't we let Zachary replace you in this ceremony for now?"

All of our friends are stunned, to say the least. They think I'll go ballistic and get incredibly jealous because of Rose's suggestion.

Instead, I nod and claim that it's a great idea.

Noting my composed manner, Rose smugly declares that we've already registered our marriage, so she promises me that she will hold another wedding for me when she's free enough.

But she seems to have forgotten that she's signed a divorce agreement just now.

I plucked the groom's boutonniere and handed it to my wife, Rose Lane, then didn't bother with the subtle looks she and the people around us were exchanging. I just walked out of the hotel.

Rose didn't come after me.

Behind me, the hall erupted in applause as Rose and Zachary Zimmer took the stage, surrounded by the celebrating crowd.

I knew this wasn't an accident. It was Zachary's way of poking at me.

Too bad Rose couldn't—or wouldn't—see it. Maybe she saw and was deliberately letting it slide.

In the past, I might've felt upset, but now, surprisingly, I felt nothing but calm.

I went home and took a much-needed nap.

Rose hated fuss, so the entire wedding had fallen on me. From start to finish, I was running around making sure nothing went wrong.

I'd been preparing nonstop after work, carefully selecting hotels and staying up late to choose invitation card designs and party favors. Yesterday, I even rehearsed until the early hours, and my chest still ached from the stress.

Looking back now, it felt hardly worth it.

I should've just gone through the motions.

Just as I was drifting in and out of sleep, Rose's call jolted me awake.

"Marcus, the wedding's over. Where are you?"

Hearing her cheerful voice on the line made me chuckle—I'd been home for hours, and she hadn't even noticed I was gone.

Or maybe she had noticed, but she didn't care enough to check.

I yawned. "At home."

For a split second, there was nothing but silence.

"Marcus, are you still upset about the wedding?" she asked, knowingly, like she always did.

This time, she was wrong. I wasn't angry, just uninterested.

"I'm not," I answered truthfully.

Rose didn't believe me. "I know you're holding some resentment, but I did it for the company's sake. Many of today's guests were business partners. If they saw us messing up even our photos, they'd doubt our competence. I just didn't want you to look like a joke.

"And Zachary was under so much pressure today—you have no idea how many drinks people piled on him. He took the hits for you. You should be thanking him."

I was amused. I started to suspect that in the chaos of the wedding, someone had slipped off with her brain.

Before I could answer, Zachary's gentle voice cut in. "Rose, don't say that. I was just doing what I was supposed to do."

"Nonsense. You handled the unexpected situation perfectly. I'll soon tell the financial department you're getting a raise."

"Thank you, Rose," Zachary replied.

A chorus of mutual praise, exactly as I expected.

I felt nauseated, but I was used to it by now.

Rose had always coddled Zachary endlessly. In the office, everyone had to call her Ms. Lane—only Zachary could call her by her first name. Anyone else who made a small mistake would get chewed out mercilessly, but Zachary? No matter what chaos he caused, she'd turn a blind eye.

A month ago, Zachary had blown a deal worth tens of millions of dollars. Everyone in the company was furious. And yet, to calm the uproar, Rose didn't even consult me—just shoved the blame on my shoulders and docked a year of my pay.

I stormed at her, furious. She just shrugged and said, "After all these years together, you're still hung up on trivial matters? This money is nothing to you, but Zachary's in a different position. If we docked his salary, how would he get by? If you want, I can make it up to you."

So, this wedding was her idea of "making it up to me".

When I stayed silent, Rose sighed and said on the phone, "Marcus, can't you take a page from Zachary's book? He's younger than you, but he's more sensible. When something goes wrong, he's proactive. He even flew his parents in just to make sure the wedding went smoothly.

"You don't have parents—fine. But when problems arise, you can't just throw a tantrum, refuse to talk, and run away, leaving a mess."

I snorted when she mentioned my parents.

Rose's house caught fire when she was a child, and she was alone at that time. My father had rushed in to save her and was fatally burned. My mother, crushed by grief, died soon after.

The night my mother died, Rose held me as I cried, promising over and over that she'd never leave me.

And now, barely eight years later, in her eyes, my parents' deaths were just another reason I didn't measure up to Zachary.

In the past, I would've lost it and yelled at her. But by now, after witnessing Rose do countless absurd things for Zachary, I was mentally prepared. Surprisingly, I felt calm.

"You're right. I was wrong," I said softly.

Perhaps sensing my calm, Rose softened her tone. "It's okay to make mistakes. As long as you acknowledge it and improve… Just apologize to Zachary, and this matter will—"

"You misunderstand," I said, cutting her off flatly. "What I mean is, I shouldn't have gone to you, shouldn't have registered the marriage first, and I definitely shouldn't have had my dad save an ungrateful person like you."

Rose froze, anger flaring. "Marcus, what are you saying?" she fumed.

Hearing her rage, I didn't grovel like before. I stayed calm. "Rose, let's get a divorce."

Rose was stunned. "What did you just say? Marcus, you've become so petty. Over this? You want a divorce?"

I expected her to blow up and agree to it right after. After all, a few nights ago, I heard her calling Zachary's name in her sleep.

She liked him that much—if I divorced her to clear the path, she'd probably be delighted.

But to my surprise, Rose exhaled deeply, her voice unusually calm. "Marcus, I know you're just saying that in anger. I'm not going to hold it against you. Stop joking around, okay? Talking about divorce like that is hurtful. And after all these years, we can't split up just like that.

"I'll pretend you never said those things, so don't repeat them again. Oh, by the way, we got a last-minute notice. I have to go on a business trip for a couple of days. I'm giving you a month off. Take some time to cool down."

With that, Rose hung up.

Just before the line went dead, I heard Rose explaining to Zachary softly, "I can't. Divorce is complicated—property, finances—"

I didn't hear the rest, but I got the gist. She was worried I'd claim part of her wealth if we divorced.

I scoffed and was momentarily speechless.

Rose told Zachary everything—from the trivial, like what she ate, to the company's sensitive information. I had warned her to be careful, but she didn't listen. She trusted Zachary and reserved all her suspicion for me.

However, none of that mattered anymore.

I contacted a lawyer to draw up a divorce agreement. To speed things up, I chose not to claim anything from the divorce.

I also submitted my resignation to the HR department. They didn't know my relationship with Rose, so they quickly replied formally, "Ms. Lane and Mr. Zimmer are on their honeymoon. I won't disturb them now. You can bring this up in a month."

I wasn't surprised. I'd already guessed Rose's "business trip" was a lie. Her wedding was the talk of the town—there was no way work would actually get her.

"I can't wait. Go ahead and process it. Just inform her after her honeymoon. If anything goes wrong, I'll take care of it," I replied.

The HR staff hesitated but agreed after I reassured her.

Rose and I had signed an eight-year contract back then. It expired two years ago, but she never renewed it—forgotten or indifferent, I didn't know.

For the past few years, her attention had been mostly on Zachary anyway.

That ended up working in my favor. Now, I didn't need her approval to resign.

Next, I called a friend who was out of town. When he heard what I had in mind, he was thrilled and insisted I come join his company immediately.

A while back, he had started a new company and had everything in place—except for a strong technical lead. He'd asked me several times to join him, but I'd refused without a second thought.

The company Rose owned now had started out as something we built together. Back then, we rented a tiny cubicle to save money, and it was just the two of us. Now, it was on the verge of going public, spanning an entire building.

I'd poured myself into it as if it were a child of mine, and even though she'd never given me a dime in equity, I had no complaints.

Now, thinking back, all that effort seemed wasted.

I accepted my friend's offer unhesitatingly and booked a flight to Haddon.

When I arrived at the airport, I saw him waiting in the terminal. The moment he spotted me, he rushed over, took my luggage from my hands, and fussed over me, checking if I was tired, hungry, or needed anything at all.