My husband, Elijah, lied that he was trapped in the mountains behind my hometown and called my father for help. Despite the storm, my father rushed to his aid, but he was caught in a flash flood. His body was swept away for miles, and by the time rescuers found him, he was unrecognizable.

The rescuers told me that my father's last words were, "My son-in-law is still trapped in the mountains. Go and save him..." Even in his final moments, he was thinking of Elijah's safety.

Desperate, I called Elijah repeatedly. When he finally answered, he laughed and said, "Honey, say you love me three times right now."

Angry and confused, I demanded, "Why did you lie to my dad?"

Then I heard a woman's voice—his ex-girlfriend, Jianna. She giggled and said, "I'm sorry, I lost a bet. Elijah was just helping me out by making that call. Don’t be mad at him. It wasn’t his fault!"

I said coldly, "Tell Elijah to come back. I want a divorce."

Elijah sneered, "Over something so trivial? You'll never measure up to Jianna!"

I handled my father's funeral alone. Relatives urged me to cry if I was sad, but not a single tear fell. No one asked about Elijah's whereabouts, and I didn’t care.

For two days, I wandered aimlessly around the house, numb. Then, Elijah finally returned. He kicked off his leather shoes, loosened his tie, and collapsed onto the sofa, looking exhausted.

"Go run the bathwater!" Elijah barked. When I didn’t move, he frowned, "Why are you still standing there? Are you deaf? Did you not hear me?"

When did he start speaking to me like this? I can’t even remember. I used to think of the man who knelt on one knee to propose, crying like a fool, promising that after marriage, he'd earn the money while I'd be responsible for being beautiful. But now, I had become a tired, worn-out woman, and he looked at me with increasing disgust.

In the living room, the most prominent wall still displayed a scroll he’d written: Marriage is a thousand lights, and there is always a light left for you. I used to find that phrase romantic. But as he came home later and later, sometimes not at all, the words began to feel painfully ironic. He might have returned physically, but his heart and soul were with another woman.

"Are you still mad? It's just a small thing. You're not over it yet, are you?" Elijah’s patience wore thin, his tone sharper.

I didn’t want to argue, but his dismissive attitude made my blood boil. "A small thing? It was pouring rain, and my father’s legs weren’t strong. How could you be so heartless, playing such a cruel trick on him? How can you call yourself human?"

He killed my dad—over a bet! The thought of my father, even in his final moments, worrying about saving Elijah tore me apart. The pain was so overwhelming, I could barely breathe. My only family in this world, a man who had endured so much suffering, met his end like this. How am I supposed to accept that?

Elijah finally noticed my red, swollen eyes. He tried to pull me into an embrace, but I shoved him away.

"Are you this upset because Dad complained to you? I already explained everything—what more do you want from me? Honestly, Dad blowing up over such a small thing..."

"Shut up!" I snapped, my voice trembling with rage. "You have no right to even mention my dad!"

As Elijah tried to approach me again, I noticed faint lipstick marks on his shirt collar—Jianna’s favorite red pear color. The image of them embracing intimately flashed through my mind, making me feel sick. I stumbled to the bathroom and retched for a long time.

Elijah leaned against the doorframe, his brow furrowed. "What’s wrong with you? Are you pregnant?"

His tone held no expectation or surprise, only a hint of panic. He didn’t want me to be pregnant; a child would interfere with his pursuit of freedom.

I stood up and looked at him coldly. "Are you afraid?"

"Look at what you’re saying. Why would I be scared? It’s just that my career is taking off, and with you being pregnant, I don’t have the time or energy to take care of you!"

He pulled out an exquisite silk box from his pocket and tossed it to me. "Here’s the custom necklace I promised you, with your name engraved on it."

I opened the box and recognized the necklace immediately. Jianna had posted a photo of it on Twitter, accompanied by a caption: He said that a gift of at least seven figures would be worthy of me.

Jianna’s necklace featured a blood diamond, while mine did not. As a jewelry design major, I knew the market value of these two necklaces differed by hundreds of thousands. After eight years of marriage, I had dedicated myself to him, yet I didn’t even rate a seven-figure gift.

I picked up the necklace with my fingertips and said flatly, "I'll consider this necklace a divorce gift."

Hearing the word "divorce," Elijah was taken aback. His face darkened as he said, "Is this still not enough? I’ve been trying to placate you for so long. If you want a divorce, call your dad. If he agrees, I won’t stop you."

When I didn’t respond, he assumed I’d eventually back down, as I had before. But this time, I stood my ground.

"I’ve been too lenient with you, letting you get away with everything. Reflect on that," I said coldly. "I have other things to do, so I’ll leave now."

He glanced at his phone, where the screen displayed "Jianna." He was going to see her again!

I threw the prepared divorce agreement at him. "Don’t leave yet. Sign this!"

He bent down to pick up the divorce agreement, his expression twisted in rage. "You’re asking for trouble," he growled.

"Fine, if that’s what you think, then just sign it!" I shot back, completely out of patience.

For a few tense seconds, the room was silent. Elijah turned off his phone, walked over to me, and asked with forced calm, "Addison, you don’t have someone else, do you?"

The question was ludicrous. How could he even think of such a thing? Our connection ran deep.

I remembered how we first met: Elijah had been stranded in the mountains while conducting research, his car stuck in the mud. My father happened to drive by and helped him out.

From a distance, I saw Elijah misinterpret my father’s gesture. My dad had held up two fingers, but Elijah thought he was asking for twenty dollars. When my father shook his head, Elijah’s frustration mounted, and he angrily scolded my dad for what he perceived as a problem with his character.

The scene made me furious. It looked like Elijah was bullying my father, so I stormed over and shoved him hard. I then turned to my father to find out what was really going on. My dad had held up two fingers to indicate he needed to return to the village to get two more people to help.

Realizing his mistake, and knowing that my father’s vocal cords were damaged and that he couldn’t speak clearly, Elijah was deeply embarrassed. He insisted on making things right and ended up staying in our village for more than a month to assist us and show his sincerity.

As my father and I saw Elijah every day, we gradually grew accustomed to him. After completing his survey, Elijah insisted on taking my dad to the hospital for a check-up on his vocal cords. The doctor’s diagnosis was hopeful: the condition could be treated.

At that point, I needed to return to school, but Elijah was adamant about staying at the hospital to care for my father. His attention to detail and considerate nature impressed us both. He treated my dad with such kindness that other patients in the ward believed he was my father’s biological son.

It was clear that Elijah had developed feelings for me, but I was aware that we were not well-suited for each other. I maintained a façade of indifference, pretending not to notice his affections. Despite my father’s encouragement to embrace love and be brave, I remained resolute in my decision. My focus was on my studies and ensuring a better future for my father.

When my father was finally discharged from the hospital, the elevator broke down. Without hesitation, Elijah carried my father on his back, descending the 16 flights of stairs. His back was drenched with sweat, and his steps were uneven, but he refused to put my dad down. Once we reached the car, he retrieved a blanket he had prepared in advance from the trunk, gently draping it over my father and reminding him to keep warm and not catch a cold.

After we arrived home, Elijah shared something personal with me. He revealed that his current father was actually his stepfather, who had always been distant and unkind. His mother, a driven career woman, had been so absorbed in her work that Elijah had never really known the warmth of family affection.

Although my father and Elijah hadn’t known each other for long, my dad had shown him genuine kindness and care, making Elijah experience a warmth he had longed for. Seeing the emotion in Elijah's eyes, slightly reddened with unshed tears, my heart was finally touched.

Whether it was out of pity or a deepening love that I could no longer contain, I reached out and hugged him. “From now on, your dad is my dad too. Let’s honor him together and make him the happiest dad in the world, okay?”

The sincerity and solemnity in his eyes, along with the radiant glow that seemed to envelop him, were unforgettable. He looked at me with a profound sense of gratitude and resolve.

“Okay,” he replied, his voice trembling with emotion.

We laughed and laughed until tears streamed down our faces. The joy of our new relationship was overwhelming. When my father learned that Elijah and I were officially dating, he was genuinely happy. His laughter was so hearty that it seemed to smooth out the lines of his face.

His only concern was whether Elijah’s family would approve of our relationship. Elijah reassured him, stating firmly that he was committed to marrying me and would never consider anyone else. He assured my dad that his family would ultimately respect his decision, so there was no need for worry.

After a year of dating, we began discussing marriage. When our families met to discuss the arrangements, Elijah’s mother and stepfather treated my dad with great respect and politeness, even inviting him to take the lead in planning the wedding.

I later discovered that Elijah's family had initially opposed our union. To show his dedication, Elijah had even threatened a hunger strike to persuade them. Learning this, I felt deeply touched. It was clear that Elijah’s commitment to me was profound and sincere, and I felt it was worth everything for someone to go to such lengths for our love.

After our marriage, Elijah officially launched his own company and became incredibly busy with his work. To support him and ensure that everything at home ran smoothly, I decided to quit my job and become a full-time wife.

Even though Elijah’s days were filled with meetings and deadlines, when he did have free time, he made sure to spend it at home with me. We shared every moment together—washing clothes, cooking meals, and tending to our flowers and plants on the balcony. Our conversations seemed endless, and it was often late into the night before we finally said goodnight, reluctant to close our eyes and go to sleep.

Our friends often teased us, calling us a couple of gods because of our seemingly perfect relationship. My heart was filled with a sweetness that seemed to come from the depth of our love.

Elijah was incredibly considerate of my father. Despite his busy schedule, he always made time to visit my dad, showing his respect and care. We renovated our old house, replacing it with a beautiful two-story villa that stood out as the only one of its kind in the village.

Everyone praised my father for his good fortune and admired the excellent son-in-law he had gained. Elijah, in turn, expressed his gratitude, saying it was his blessing to have such a wonderful father-in-law.

However, my seemingly perfect and fulfilling life took an abrupt turn when Jianna returned from Canada. Jianna was Elijah’s "white moonlight"—his first love. They had been forced to part ways because of the distance between them, but her return reignited old feelings.

Elijah claimed that Jianna was just a good friend to him now, but his actions told a different story. When Jianna needed help moving, Elijah immediately set aside his work to assist her. He was anxious when she had a minor scratch, rushing her to the hospital for treatment. When she suffered from menstrual cramps, he spent the night with her, providing a hot water bottle and ginger tea.

It became clear that Jianna had reclaimed a central place in Elijah’s life. Despite his busy schedule and exhaustion, a call or a message from Jianna could pull him away from anything. On my birthday, Elijah had promised to come home early to celebrate with me. Yet, as the evening dragged on and the food was reheated repeatedly, he was still nowhere to be found.

When Elijah finally returned home, I tried to express my frustration, but my words seemed to set him off. He exploded in anger, accusing me of being ungrateful and overly suspicious. I cried in frustration and hurt, but he didn’t offer a word of comfort. Instead, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

In my despair, I swallowed my pride and called him, apologizing for any misunderstandings. I found myself crying every day, feeling utterly isolated with no one to confide in.

One day, as I stood on the balcony, a disturbing thought crossed my mind: to open the window and jump. The sheer realization of such a thought jolted me into understanding that I was struggling with depression. My medical records lay on the table, but Elijah never took notice or showed concern. It was evident that he had long since forgotten me, leaving me to fend for myself.

Despite my love for him and the home we had built together, the bitterness of the antidepressant pills was overwhelming. Yet, the thought of my aging father, who had always been a source of strength and support, gave me the resolve to swallow the pills and face each day, no matter how challenging it became.

I had always held on to the belief that in a marriage, there would be gratitude and understanding between husband and wife. I was convinced that Elijah would eventually recognize my worth and return to me. I waited patiently, holding onto hope, but with each passing day, my disappointment grew, and the light at the end of the tunnel seemed to fade further away.

Elijah's behavior became increasingly outrageous. He allowed Jianna to post ambiguous messages on social media and took her to various social events. When friends jokingly suggested that he might be having an affair with Jianna, he simply smiled and offered no explanation.

I endured this torment, but the breaking point came when my father died in one of Elijah’s reckless gambling ventures. My grief and rage reached a boiling point, and I felt an overwhelming urge to confront him with a knife. The moment I pushed my father’s body into the incinerator, the last remnants of my love for Elijah were extinguished.

Despite being around Elijah every day, he harbored suspicions that I was unfaithful. “No!” I answered firmly, meeting his gaze with a clear conscience.

“Then why do you want to divorce me?” he demanded.

“Because I don’t love you anymore,” I replied, the words heavy with the weight of my disillusionment.

Despite our past love, I wanted to leave with dignity and avoid unnecessary entanglements. But when Elijah, with a dark expression, confronted me, his voice was thick with resentment. “Addison, don’t you know how much I love you? You’re stabbing me right in the heart, do you even realize that?” His words implied that my decision to divorce him was an unforgivable betrayal.

How could a man be so shameless? I had been blind to fall in love with such a man. I felt a surge of anger as I looked at him. “Do you love me? Ask yourself honestly—do you really love me?” I prodded his chest repeatedly, imagining that my fingertips were sharp blades, stabbing him with imagined wounds.

In the past, I had always been gentle with him, but now I felt like a fierce lioness, driven by rage. He seemed taken aback for a moment, then coldly replied, “Maybe I’ve been too busy lately and neglected you, but you can’t just divorce me!”

“I’ve decided!” I declared firmly. I pulled out the suitcase I had packed long ago and pointed to the divorce agreement on the table. Without another word, I made my way toward the door.

Just as I was about to leave, a sharp knock sounded. I opened the door, only to be startled as Jianna pushed past me, shoving me to the ground. Her face was flushed with anger. “Where’s your dad? Take me to find that shameless old man immediately!” she demanded.