After I finished tidying up, I took a quick shower and returned to the bedroom.

Derrick was still awake. He glanced at me and immediately moved over, making space behind him.

Silently and out of habit, I began massaging his shoulders.

After a while, he turned around, his expression displeased.

"Did you not have dinner? Why are you so weak?"

I simply stared at him wordlessly.

He grew irritated and snapped, "Did you lose your tongue?"

This was a sign that Derrick was about to lose his temper. He always liked to pick fights over small things and wouldn't stop until I admitted I was wrong.

I couldn't help but reply sarcastically, "How would I dare eat? I was too busy waiting for you to show up, Mr. Wickham."

Derrick fell silent for a moment, then cleared his throat.

"Couldn't you go and find something to eat yourself when you were hungry? Did you have to just wait around? How stupid. Forget it. You don't need to give me a massage tonight. Rest up."

Derrick's expression seemed to imply that he had granted me some enormous favor, but that sat well with me, and I turned my back to him, quickly settling into bed.

For a long moment, there was no movement behind me. Then, after a deep breath, he turned off the light.

This was the first time I hadn't tried to curl up in his arms to sleep.

…

By the time I woke up and went downstairs, it was rather late. For once, Derrick hadn't gone to the office. Instead, he was reading on the couch.

He wore glasses with a light-colored frame, which, paired with his casual clothes, gave him a gentle, calm appearance. He looked very much like how he did when I first met him. For a fleeting moment, I thought the old him had returned.

But the illusion shattered as soon as he looked up and spoke.

"What are you standing there for? Can't you see I'm waiting? Hurry up."

His eyes were full of impatience and condescension.

I nodded and quickly finished the breakfast that had long gone cold on the table. After tidying up, I stood beside him.

Derrick scanned me from head to toe and frowned at my attire. I was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and long pants.

"If you know that you're ugly, can't you at least try to dress up better? I'm the only one who would want you because of how lazy and hideous you are."

Now that I was free from the illusion of love, I realized just how disgusting his frequent remarks truly were. In the past, I had treasured them, taking them as proof of his affection. But now, I rolled my eyes inwardly and nodded in silence.

When the usual shy blushing or coy reaction he expected from me never came, Derrick stayed silent for a moment, then said, "Whatever. Considering I'm making it up to you today, I'll let it slide."

We soon got into the car. Silence hung between us, broken only by the constant ringing of Derrick's phone.

The only person daring enough to call so incessantly was Jessica.

Derrick showed no impatience. Instead, he pulled over and immediately answered the call.

I leaned against the window, gazing out at the scenery, while fragments of his soft, gentle murmurs reached my ears.

The person on the other end of the line seemed to be whining, and Derrick's tone grew increasingly indulgent.

It was the first time I had heard him use that tone with anyone. He had never spoken to me like that. It was so cloying that it made my stomach turn.

After coaxing Jessica, Derrick still had a fondness in his voice that hadn't entirely dissipated when he asked me to get out of the car.

"I'll come get you later."

Abandoned by the roadside, I watched Derrick start the engine and drive away. A bitter feeling rose within me. He wasn't going to come back, just as he never had in the past 99 times he stood me up.

Ten minutes later, a good friend of mine, Crystal Belrose, whom I hadn't met in a long time, pulled up sharply. She rolled down the window, looked at me, and scoffed.

"I told you right from the start. Being a full-time housewife never ends well."

Everyone knew that back in college, I had pursued Derrick relentlessly for three years, and in the end, he had no choice but to marry me, only because we had slept together.

I had a rare talent for design and had even had the opportunity to further my studies in Crestver. But I gave it up without a second thought to marry Derrick, choosing instead to become a full-time housewife. I even picked up skills I never bothered with at home, like cooking and giving massages, for him.

I ignored my teachers' and parents' stern warnings, and even my best friend's frustration at my stubbornness. None of them mattered. All I cared about was staying by Derrick's side.

I shook my head, pushing those memories away, and smiled at Crystal.

"I called you here today because I need your help to draft a divorce agreement."

Shocked by my words, Crystal immediately pulled me into her car.

I listened as she rambled on, saying she would help me fight for more rights and free myself from that jerk as soon as possible. For the first time, I felt a sense of relief. Even the hurt of being abandoned by Derrick on the roadside slowly faded away.

Crystal took me out to celebrate my impending freedom and refused to let me go home until the early hours of the morning. She also wouldn't let me keep my phone.

By the time I finally checked my messages, Derrick had nearly blown up my phone with calls, along with countless texts.

When I replied to his texts, I saw that none of my messages went through. He had blocked me.

But I wasn't bothered in the least. I blocked and deleted him right back. I wanted him out of sight and out of mind.

…

When I returned home the next morning, I saw Jessica there.

She was holding a plate of breakfast, and the moment she saw me, she rushed over and grabbed my hand.

"You're here! Come, have a seat!"

She behaved as though she were the lady of the house.

Jessica leaned close to me and whispered, "I should thank you, Clary, for not coming home last night. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been here. But then again, even if you were home, I would have come over sooner or later."

With that, she looked at me smugly.

She was charming and pretty, while I, after years as a housewife focused solely on Derrick, had grown pale and wan.

Had it been in the past, seeing her would have made me bitter and insecure. But this time, I did not react with anger as she had hoped. I simply smiled faintly back at her.

"Is that so? Well, you're welcome to visit. Make yourself at home."

I had the divorce papers that Crystal prepared for me in my bag, and all I wanted was to give them to Derrick as soon as possible.

But Jessica clung to my hand, refusing to let me leave, chattering on about wanting me to teach her how to make breakfast, so she could cook for Derrick.

At some point, Derrick had come downstairs. He strode over quickly, placing himself between Jessica and me.

Dark circles hung under his eyes, and his expression was dark. "Clarisse, just what are you trying to do to Jessie again?"

Jessica shook her head. "Don't be like that, Ricky. Claryboo didn't do anything to me."

The sickly sweet way she addressed me disgusted me.

I took a step back and said, "You heard her. I didn't do anything."

But Derrick's expression only darkened further. He pointed at me and rebuked, "Do you think I'd believe you? I just saw you trying to push her. You've always had it out for her.

"She hasn't shown up in front of you for so long, and now you're at it again. You even dare to lay hands on her in front of me? You've really been spoiled rotten!"

All I had done was try to free my hand from Jessica's grasp, and I received a scolding from Derrick for that. It was ridiculous. Even Jessica stood smugly behind him, looking at me triumphantly.

This wasn't the first time he had taken her side. I was reminded of the hand-sewn fabric charm I made him back then. That had been my first attempt at sewing something, and it had taken me a whole week of effort just to produce the charm.

I had wrapped it carefully and delivered it to Derrick during work hours, only to be met with scorn. "It's as ugly and tacky as you are. Take it away."

I had felt incredibly upset and secretly vowed to make a better one next time. But before I could take it back, Jessica snatched it away.

She looked so innocent and sweet, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at the charm. "I think it's adorable! May I have it, Clary?"

Derrick had agreed on my behalf right then and there.

But mere hours later, I saw Jessica casually toss it into the trash.

Furious, I had rushed over and slapped her across the face, right in front of Derrick's assistant, Luther Doyle.

Afterward, Jessica had covered her face, sobbing. "Clary grabbed the charm from me, threw it in the trash herself, and then hit me! I don't know why she hates me so much when I've never done anything to her!"

Even Luther, the only other witness, had backed her up, saying I had been vicious.

Utterly disappointed in me, Derrick had ordered me to get out and forbade me from ever setting foot in the company again.

Back then, all I could do was cry and beg him not to shut me out. But he hadn't yielded one bit, turning instead to order Luther to send me home immediately.

Looking back now, I wished I could slap my past self.

I remained calm. I saw no point in explaining anything to Derrick. Instead, I produced the divorce agreement from my bag.

"Since you're home, you might as well sign this."