After disconnecting the call, I silenced my phone, tossed it aside, and cocooned myself in the comfort of the blankets. My daughter was nestled close. Sleep claimed us once more.

Pick him up? Not a chance.

This time, my focus was singular: to shield my daughter and myself from harm.

Half an hour later, my phone buzzed incessantly.

Yet, sleep held me in its gentle grasp.

Dawn broke, and I awoke to the natural light, refreshed. After the morning rituals, I checked my phone.

Eighty-seven missed calls from Henry lit up my screen, accompanied by an avalanche of text messages.

He demanded my whereabouts, questioning my delay.

Eventually, his frustration and embarrassment fused into anger, and in one heated text, he lashed out with curses. Henry: [Are you fucking messing with me?]

I pondered his words, struggling to reconcile this man with the tender husband I once knew.

It was a stark reminder: people could wear masks.

Love could be feigned.

After breakfast, I crafted a reply to Henry.

Nicole: [I'm sorry. My car broke down on my way to you. It's only just been fixed. Where are you now? Should I come to get you?]

Daylight now bathed the world.

Even the remote road would be alive with activity.

The likelihood of him lashing out at me once more seemed nearly insurmountable.

As expected, Henry swiftly replied. Henry: [No need. I've managed to hail a taxi.]

A smile played on my lips as I set the phone down.

Henry wouldn't be coming home just yet.

He sent yet another message, informing me that there were matters at the company demanding his attention, and only after wrestling with those would he make his way back home.

Ignoring his excuses, I ventured downstairs to the supermarket, where I purchased two cameras and two voice recorders.

The cameras were strategically placed in the living room and bedroom, and their feeds were linked directly to my phone.

The recorders, one in my bag, the other in my pocket, were my constant companions, ready to capture any evidence.

Not content with passive measures, I reached out to a private detective, Jerry Short, offering a substantial sum for his services.

His mission was clear: to watch the private villa and document any intimate moments between Henry and Selena.

This was my new battlefield, and Henry was my adversary.

I would ensure he left this house with nothing but disgrace.

Upon Henry's return, I was perched atop a stool to delicately remove the wedding photograph that had once proudly hung at the heart of our bedroom.

The moment his eyes caught my action, a frown of displeasure creased his brow.

"It's perfectly fine where it is. Why are you taking it down?"

His voice, laced with impatience, reached my ears as I steadfastly refused to turn and face him.

"It's gathered dust. I thought to clean it," I replied.

The wedding photo slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor and fracturing into two pieces.

My gaze lifted to meet Henry's, only to find him casting an impatient glance in my direction. "You're clumsy! If it's broken, just throw it away."

Turning on his heel, he strode towards the bathroom with a towel in his hand.

Indeed, I had let it fall on purpose.

I yearned to witness how Henry would react to the shattering of our wedding photo.

As expected, his indifference was palpable.

Bending down, I gathered the broken shards of our wedding photo, preparing to discard them in the trash can downstairs.

Yet, as I did, memories flooded back unbidden.

To capture that perfect set of wedding photos, I had endured days without sustenance, starving myself until I shed three kilograms, all for the sake of fitting into that exquisite wedding gown.

Henry had been unable to tear his eyes away. "Nicole, you are so beautiful. I will always love you and protect you."

During our courtship, my family was mired in poverty. To support them, I worked tirelessly, taking on odd jobs by night.

One fateful night, as I made my way home in the dead of night, I was accosted by the sudden appearance of a thug. My refusal to comply resulted in a brutal beating.

I was assaulted with such ferocity that I ended up in the hospital with a fractured bone. The news reached Henry, who, in the midst of his game, cast everything aside. With urgency in his steps, he rushed to my side at the hospital.

His eyes were rimmed with red, and his body trembled with fury.

He berated himself for not being there to protect me.

I laughed off his words, calling him a fool. After all, he hadn't been with me during those part-time jobs, and beyond the physical harm, I was fine. I wondered why he carried the weight of guilt upon his shoulders.

Yet, Henry shook his head vehemently. The towering boy of six feet broke down in tears.

He knelt by my bedside, clasping my hand with a fervor promise.

"Nicole, no more night work. I'll provide for you. I'll give you all the scholarships and all the living expenses I earn!"

At that moment, his love for me was undeniable.

He lived sparingly, even forgoing breakfast during the leanest times while lying to me that he had already eaten.

It was then that I resolved to marry him.

Yet, the only constant in this world was change. People's hearts were the most fickle of all.

Perhaps, in his wildest dreams, Henry could never have envisioned the turn our lives would take five years hence.

Five years later, driven by the lure of a wealthy woman, he orchestrated a despicable plot, framing a homeless man to tarnish my innocence and resorting to any means necessary to divorce me.

All those vows of eternal love were scattered by the winds of time.

We could never reclaim the innocence and love that once defined us.

As Henry retreated to the shower, his cell phone lay abandoned on the living room's coffee table.

An invisible force seemed to draw me towards it.

In five years of marriage, I had never once snooped through his phone, a testament to the trust I believed should exist between partners.

But that trust had been shattered the moment he chose to harm me.

I unlocked the phone, and my eyes were immediately drawn to a pinned chat labeled "Ms. George."

The latest exchange was a chilling revelation.

Henry: [Failed.]

Ms. George: [Henry, if you wish to join my family, you must prove your sincerity.]

Henry: [I'll file for divorce as soon as possible. Just let her go, alright?]

A voice message from the other end dripped with disdain, "I want to see your sincerity, not just in loving me but in not loving her. I want her to suffer. Do you understand?"

My fists clenched involuntarily.

The depth of their deceit was staggering.

Their affair had begun a year ago at a cocktail party. Selena, smitten with Henry, had orchestrated a drug-induced one-night stand with Henry.

Since then, she had held this over him, summoning him at her whim.

Gripped by the dread that I might uncover his affair with Selena, Henry had reluctantly complied.

After a year of being entangled in the relationship with Selena, Henry fell for her. He even harbored thoughts of severing his marital bonds with me for her.

When I read the final message, a chill was settled in my heart.

Henry: [I understand.]

The cascade of water from the bathroom ceased abruptly. With a surge of panic, I hastily returned the phone to its original place.

As if on cue, a fresh message blinked into existence on my screen.

It was a warning from Jerry. Jerry: [Don't attend the dance in three days. They're plotting against you.]

My heart raced.

Henry's ominous "I understand" echoed in my mind.

In my past life, they had succeeded in destroying my innocence and reputation through a homeless man.

This time, I had evaded their scheme, only to find a larger one looming.

Henry emerged with a bathrobe clinging to his muscular frame. His hair was damp.

He exuded an allure of maturity and confidence.

"Nicole."

He addressed me nonchalantly while towel-drying his hair.

"There's a dance party in three days. The company insists on family attendance. It's been a while since you've been to such an event. You'll accompany me, won't you?"