Sydney returned and said a lot of apologetic things, but only one sentence stuck in my mind.

“Can you stop being unreasonable? If I still had feelings for Kya, we would’ve already gone to the courthouse and divorced long ago.”

The next day, I went to the beauty salon with my best friend for a treatment. To my surprise, I bumped into Kya.

I glanced at her expensive clothes and jewelry, then at the beauty salon’s nameplate and felt a pang in my heart. Sydney was really generous.

Kya, noticing my displeasure, sneered, “Sorry, Florence. I accidentally slept with your husband yesterday. Hope you're not upset about that.”

She laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “You still love him, don’t you? I can see why Sydney’s so sure you’ll forgive him. He was so confident about it last night.”

“You know,” she continued, “When Sydney found out that the baby isn’t mine, he was ecstatic. Treated me like I was some kind of treasure he’d just rediscovered.”

“What does that make you? A trophy wife, or just a trash to throw away?” She raised her eyebrow in mockery.

I put my hand on my stomach and chuckled. “I’m the one holding the marriage certificate here. What does that make you?”

I couldn’t help but keep going. “You really don’t have a clue how to be a mistress, do you? No one who’s actually smart about it flaunts themselves in front of the wife. They usually end up getting a reality check.”

Kya's face drained of color and she snapped back, “The mistress is the one who isn’t loved!”

Her eyes dropped to my slightly rounded belly and then she laughed again. “Which one do you think matters more to Sydney? Me or the baby you're carrying?”

I froze. How did she know I was pregnant?

Just as I was lost in thought, Kya charged at me in full speed, elbowing me hard in the stomach. I didn’t take it lying down. I grabbed her hand and kicked her in the knee. She fell to the floor and her clumsy, pitiful appearance made the staff snicker despite themselves.

That only made Kya angrier. She grabbed whatever bottles and jars she could find and hurled them at me. I dodged most of them, but one hit me squarely on the forehead and warm liquid dripped down my face. I didn’t care about my dignity at that point. I grabbed her by the collar and raised my hand to slap her.

But my wrist was suddenly caught with great force. I turned around to find it was Sydney. So they’d come together.

“Florence, have you lost your mind?” he said through gritted teeth. “Where’s your grace and dignity? Do you not realize you’re humiliating yourself?”

The words hit me like a slap. It was laughable, really—Kya had started this whole mess, yet he had the audacity to accuse me of causing a scene. At that moment, clarity struck me like a bolt of lightning. I’d been lying to myself all along. I realized how unworthy Sydney was of the nine years I wasted on him. He didn’t deserve my true heart.

I was thinking of booking an appointment for an abortion. I didn’t want to love him anymore. I wanted a divorce. I bit my lip, remaining silent, but my grip on Kya’s collar tightened. Every fiber of my being wanted to slap him now, but the strength disparity between us was too great. With no other choice, I released Kya’s collar and only then did Sydney loosen his grip on me. I jerked my hand free, wincing as pain radiated from my reddened wrist. I bit back tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

Sydney turned to Kya, rushing to her side like the doting hero. Once he was sure she was fine, he shot me a withering glare. But just as he seemed ready to berate me further, his gaze landed on the bleeding gash on my forehead. His expression shifted in an instant, darkening as he turned to Kya.

“Did you do this?” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

Kya paled, her confidence faltering. “I-i…. she started it!” she stammered. “She hit me first and called me a homewrecker in front of all the staff. I was only defending myself! Do you know how embarrassing this would be if word got out? So many wealthy women come here. I’d never live it down!”

Sydney didn’t say a word, his face still clouded with anger. Kya, sensing the tension, clung to his arm, her tone shifting to one of saccharine sweetness. “Okay, okay,” she cooed, swaying slightly against him. “I’ll apologize if it makes you happy. Just don’t be mad, alright?”

They looked so intimate, so oblivious to my presence, as if I were nothing more than an unwanted shadow. I stood there, feeling utterly foolish.

“Forget it. This isn’t a big deal,” Sydney muttered, dismissing it all as though nothing had happened.

After stopping Kya from apologizing, he pulled me outside. “Can’t you just stop making trouble?” he said, exasperated. “She just got back from abroad. This place had become foreign to her. She helped me back in school and I’m just trying to repay her kindness. You’re overthinking everything.”

Sydney’s words were like a dagger to my chest, dismissing Kya’s actions so nonchalantly it felt like he had forgiven her on my behalf. In the end, somehow, it was always me who ended up in the wrong. Love and indifference—was there ever a clearer contrast?

My throat felt dry and raw, but I swallowed back the torrent of tears threatening to spill.

Just then, my best friend returned from the restroom and upon seeing Sydney, she exploded in rage. “You piece of trash! How dare you treat Florence this way? I swear, I want to stab you both, you disgusting scumbags!”

She stepped closer, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Florence is your wife! Instead of standing by her, you’re defending this skank? Where is your brain?”

“And don’t forget,” she continued, voice dripping with venom, “everything you have today is thanks to Florence. You’re nothing but a freeloading loser, Sydney. Don’t act like you’ve forgotten how Florence’s dad helped you when no one else would. Mr. Lancaster just went abroad to meet his business partner, he’s not dead.”

The mention of my father shattered the last of my composure. Tears streamed down my face as I thought of him—the one person who had always loved me unconditionally, who would never let me suffer in silence.

Sydney smirked, his laugh filled with mockery. “So what if he helped me? Forcing his daughter on me back then wasn’t exactly a noble act, was it?”

“I’ll say it one last time,” he continued coldly, “I’m not cheating. Once I get Kya settled, I’ll come back to the family.”

His words ground my self-esteem into the dirt. As if his “return” was some kind of charity I should be grateful for.

But he wasn’t an emperor and I wasn’t some concubine reliant on his favor to survive.

I grabbed my bag and hurled it at his face. “Sydney, let’s get divorced. I hope you and Kya get together and rot in hell.”

Sydney froze for a moment, then wiped at the blood trickling from the cut on his face. “Florence, do you think you’ll ever find someone who loves you more than I do?”

My best friend scoffed. “Love? You’ve treated Florence like dirt and you have the nerve to talk about love? She’s the best thing that ever happened to you and you’re too blind to see it.”

She bent down to pick up my bag, but her gaze fell on a document peeking out from inside. Her expression turned to shock as she turned to me. “Florence, is this—”

Before she could finish, I yanked the paper from her hands, crumpled it up and tossed it into the trash.

“Let’s go,” I said, forcing a smile. “My treat for the concert tonight.”

Sydney’s brow furrowed as he grabbed my wrist. “Florence, are you hiding something from me?”

I let out a cold laugh and pried his fingers off me. “And what does that have to do with you?”

His gaze darkened as he searched my face for answers, but I gave him nothing.

He strode toward the trash can, determined to fish out the paper, but Kya blocked his path, clutching her stomach. “Sydney, my stomach hurts so much. It’s probably from when Florence kicked me earlier. Please, take me to the hospital.”

Sydney shot me a look before taking her hand. “I’ll deal with you when I get back.”

I watched their retreating figures disappear, my heart hardening with resolve. Picking up my phone, I dialed my father’s number.

I was done with Sydney. This marriage was over and I wouldn’t look back.

I made up my mind—not only would I leave him, but I wouldn’t keep the baby, either. It was time to cut ties, completely and irreversibly.

Ever since Kya returned, Sydney had made her his top priority. He seemed to have conveniently forgotten everything that happened at the beauty salon. His visits home grew increasingly rare, but I didn’t mind the solitude. It was liberating to be free of his presence.

Quietly, I went to the hospital and terminated the pregnancy. Afterward, I stayed at home to recover, finding solace in the peace that came with Sydney’s absence.

Yet, he misinterpreted my silence as submission, convincing himself that I had finally learned my “place.” His audacity with Kya only grew—publicly parading their relationship as if I no longer existed.

He began taking her to lavish galas, using his influence to help her expand her social connections. With him backing her, no one dared criticize her, at least not openly.

At an auction, Kya fell in love with the Heart of Africa gemstone. Sydney didn’t hesitate, spending three hundred million to buy it for her and commissioning a designer to turn it into an exclusive jewelry set.

Their public displays of affection became a constant fixture, their smiles and laughter gracing every social event. They were the epitome of a “perfect couple,” or so it seemed to everyone else.

So, this was what Sydney called “returning to family.” The irony was laughable.

Well, good for them—they truly deserved each other.

It was around 10 PM that night when Sydney came home, carrying Kya in his arms.

Kya cast a fleeting glance at me before burying her face against Sydney’s chest, her voice trembling with feigned vulnerability. “Sydney, I was so scared... I really thought something terrible would happen if you hadn’t come in time.”

With that, she burst into tears, clutching Sydney tightly as though the world had wronged her.

Sydney patted her back, his tone soft and reassuring. “Don’t worry, I’m here now. You’re safe.”

“Sydney,” Kya whimpered, tilting her head up to look at him. “Can you stay with me tonight? I’m so shaken and I don’t think I can sleep alone.”

Then, she turned her gaze to me, her lips trembling with mock sincerity. “Florence, you wouldn’t mind, would you?”

I kept a stoic expression, munching on my potato chips without bothering to answer.

In Sydney’s eyes, my silence was yet another instance of my “immaturity” or “unreasonableness.” His face darkened as he tried to justify his actions.

“The hotel wasn’t safe,” he explained. “Someone broke into Kya’s room. If I had been even a little later... I don’t want to think about what could have happened. She’ll stay here for a few days until I find her a secure place.”

Every word was a glaring red flag.

I stepped closer, letting the remaining chips spill from the bag onto both of them. Sydney’s face turned beet red with anger, but I couldn’t hold back a mocking laugh.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” I sneered. “Someone broke into her hotel room and your solution isn’t to call the police but to bring her here? Seriously?”

I crossed my arms, giving them a pointed look. “You expect me to believe there’s not a single safe hotel in this entire city? Or is it that you two find it more thrilling to flaunt your affair in front of me?”

Kya’s eyes welled up with tears and her voice wavered dramatically. “Sydney, just take me away. It’s clear your wife doesn’t want me here.”

She turned to me with a pitiful expression. “I’m sorry for causing trouble, Florence. I only asked Sydney for help because I thought you didn’t mind—since you’ve been so... understanding lately.”

She clung to his neck and whispered, “Let’s go to a hotel. I have a new nightgown I wanted to show you anyway.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Sydney glared at me. “This is my house. She doesn’t get to make the rules.” 

Kya's lips curled up with delight and she turned her head to see my reaction. 

“If she don’t like it, she can leave,” Sydney added. 

When the words dropped, Kya went to kiss him. Sydney returned her kiss, carried her into our bedroom and the bile rose in my throat. I barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting violently.

I was done. This man disgusted me.

***

The next day, I went to the hospital and terminated the pregnancy. I spent two months recovering at my best friend’s place, during which Sydney didn’t call me—not once.

Once I felt physically and emotionally ready, I began making arrangements to end it all. I hired a lawyer and had the divorce papers drafted.

When I finally returned to the house to confront Sydney, I found that the locks had been changed. Calling him was futile; he wouldn’t pick up. Left with no choice, I contacted a locksmith to open the door.

As the locksmith worked on the door, my phone finally rang. I picked it up, expecting Sydney, but instead, a woman's voice greeted me with smug satisfaction.

“Are you looking for Sydney?” she asked, her tone dripping with confidence. “He’s with me at the clinic right now. I’ve been feeling nauseous lately, so he brought me to check. The elderly folks here keep saying I might be pregnant. They think Sydney and I are such a perfect couple—handsome, beautiful and just imagine the adorable babies we’ll have.”

She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing with mock sympathy. “But I get it; you’ve been with him since the beginning, helped him build everything from scratch. Out of respect, he can’t just abandon you, right?”

The locksmith finally clicked the door open. Without another word, I ended the call, cutting off whatever nonsense she had left to spew.

I stepped inside, only to be met with a startling sight. In just two months, everything had been completely transformed into something I couldn’t even recognize.