Everyone says Scott Kennedy, the young heir to one of California’s most influential families, married a fool.

Unfortunately, I’m the so-called fool they can’t stop talking about.

I never truly understood the meaning of "first love" until someone said, "Scott’s first love is the love of his life. And you? You’re just the fool he was forced to marry."

I couldn’t hold back. I broke down, bawling my eyes out and throwing myself onto the floor like a tantrum-throwing child.

Because, really, what else could I do?

I am a fool—or at least that’s all anyone seems to think. But even after all that, he still brought her back.

"You’re so pure and kind-hearted," he said, almost pleading as if he were asking for a favor. "Please, let her stay. Okay?"

Everyone calls me a fool, but even a fool like me knows one simple truth—my husband is supposed to belong to me.

If Scott starts falling for someone else, then… I don’t want him anymore.

...

During dinner, Scott Kennedy kept serving plate after plate to his first love, Jessica Smith.

For the past month, this had become our routine—him lavishing attention on her while I remained on the sidelines. Despite witnessing it repeatedly, I couldn’t stop myself from admiring her. Jessica was breathtaking—sparkling eyes, flawless teeth, and jet-black hair that flowed like a waterfall.

Every smile, every slight frown, seemed to captivate everyone around her. As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, Jessica noticed me staring.

She smiled warmly, her voice as light as a breeze. "Nadia, why aren’t you eating?"

Then Jessica looked at Scot, who was sitting beside me, and said, "Don’t worry about me, Scott. I’ll get something if I need it. You should take good care of Nadia. What if she doesn’t eat enough?"

Scott glanced over at Jessica and said, "It's fine, Jessica. She can’t handle spicy food. She’ll just stick to her small bowl."

Then he turned back to me, the same indulgent look on his face, and ruffled my hair like I was a child. "Nadia, is something wrong? Don’t you like today’s dishes?" Scott asked gently, his voice tinged with concern. "If you don’t eat well now, there won’t be any desserts tonight, okay?"

The tone he used—soft and coaxing, as though speaking to a child—stung more than it should have. I kept my gaze fixed on the small bowl of food in front of me, the sadness in my chest growing heavier with each passing second.

There was a time when I didn’t mind the way Scott spoke to me. Back then, I found his care and attention comforting, even sweet. But now? Now it grated on me.

I didn’t want to be treated like a child anymore.

Ever since Jessica moved into this house, everything seemed to revolve around her, including the meals. The table was always filled with her favorite spicy foods that overwhelmed my palate.

I had grown up eating light, mild foods, and my stomach couldn’t handle anything too intense. Although we all sat at the same table from that day on, my meals were separate from theirs.

The sight of my small, plain bowl next to their vibrant, aromatic dishes only deepened the divide I felt between me and the rest of the household. It was as if the table itself mirrored my place in their world—apart, isolated, an afterthought.

Jessica raised an eyebrow, smiling playfully. "Auntie, you really don’t have to go all out for me. Nadia’s not used to this kind of food." She turned to Scott’s mom, Martha, and added, "Let’s keep it simple for Nadia. I like mild dishes too, so it’s no trouble."

Martha shot me a glance before looking back at Jessica. "You’re too kind, Jessica. What does a fool like her know, anyway?"

Then, with a sigh, Martha’s tone softened further. "I’ve always liked you, my dear. Seeing you with Scott makes me so happy." She let out a small laugh, dripping with thinly veiled affection. "I still don’t know what his grandfather was thinking, making Scott marry her…"

Scott slammed his utensils on the table with a loud clang, startling everyone.

"Mom," he addressed her sternly, his voice cutting through the room. "I’ve told you—stop calling her a fool. She’s my wife."

He then turned his attention to me, his gaze gentler. "And stop making vague comments. Nadia and I are married. That’s the end of it."

I bit down on my lip, fighting back tears. Without a word, I pushed back my chair and moved to the sofa, not wanting to stay at the table any longer. Martha’s dislike for me wasn’t new. I’d always known she didn’t approve of me.

But honestly, it wasn’t just her. Everyone around Scott said the same thing—that he married a fool. A genius and a fool. That’s how they saw us—a mismatched pair in every way.

And unfortunately, I’m the fool.

There was a time when Martha hid her disdain, at least in public. After all, my marriage to Scott was arranged by his grandfather, Donald Kennedy.

Ever since Jessica came back, Martha’s dislike for me had grown more blatant with each passing day. She completely disregarded Scott’s earlier outburst and shot me a cold, scornful look.

“Would you look at that, just look at it!” she sneered. “This stupid woman dares to show me attitude!”

As if that wasn’t enough, she kept going. “What, am I not even allowed to say a word about her anymore? Just look at that face—it annoys me just to see her!”

Her words hit me hard, a sharp sting spreading through my chest. I hadn’t shown her any attitude at all. It felt like my very existence at the table was enough to ruin everyone’s mood. Not wanting to cause more tension, I quietly got up and moved to the sofa.

Scott, as usual, ignored his mother’s sharp remarks. Instead, he followed me, crouching down in front of me, his eyes locking with mine.

"Nadia, what's wrong? Not feeling well?" he asked gently. "If you're not hungry, you don't have to eat. I'll get the maid to bring you some desserts later. Tell me if something's bothering you?"

I kept my gaze down, sulking, refusing to meet his eyes or say a word.

Jessica’s voice chimed in from the table. "Scott, please come back and eat. I'll stay here with Nadia," she said, smiling warmly. Then, with a sisterly tone, she added, "It's normal for her to have tantrums. Don't push her. I'll handle talking to her gently."

I glanced past Scott’s shoulder and saw Jessica rising from her chair.

‘I’m not a child. I’m Scott’s wife!’ I screamed inwardly.

Straightening up, I looked Scott in the eye and declared, “I want to attend tomorrow’s event.”

Scott froze, his surprise evident.

In the three years we’d been married, I had never attended any party—large or small. I knew I wasn’t the brightest, and the whispers about me always found their way back to my ears. So, I stayed in the background, away from public scrutiny.

But when Jessica mentioned it would be her first event since returning to the country, I couldn’t get the image of her and Scott standing together out of my head. They were so perfect—beautiful, poised, flawless. The thought of them together felt unbearable.

Scott stared at me for what felt like an eternity, his lips twitching like he wanted to argue.

But finally, he nodded. “Alright. If Nadia wants to go, then we’ll go.”

I noticed Jessica froze for just a moment before resuming her movements. But I couldn’t waste time worrying about her.

After Grandpa passed, Scott was the only person left in my world.

I couldn’t lose him.

...

When we arrived at the event hall, the room briefly fell silent.

Scott led me to a quiet lounge area, handing me a small plate with a delicate slice of cake. His expression softened as he smiled.

“Be good, Nadia,” he said gently. "I'm going to meet some people. Please stay close and don't wander off. I'll come back soon."

As soon as Scott left, a group of women approached me, Jessica at the center of them. My chest tightened as panic started to creep in, and I darted my eyes around the room, desperate for an escape.

One of the women crossed her arms, glaring at me with pure disdain.

“What are you looking around for? Do you even know what you’re seeing?” she sneered. “Honestly, I have no idea what Scott was thinking, bringing you here. People like you belong in a mental hospital. What if you lose it and start attacking someone?”

Her words hit me like a slap across the face. My hands instinctively clutched the hem of my dress, as if it could shield me from their cruel remarks.

"I… I’m not mentally ill," I stammered, my voice trembling. "Grandpa always said I’m just not smart, not sick. What are you doing right now? Are you trying to bully me?"

That only made them laugh louder, their mockery echoing in the room.

“Not smart? So you're just saying she’s a fool in a nicer way?” one woman mocked.

“Guess the gossip was spot on,” another interjected, smirking. “Scott’s wife really is stupid!”

“Look at her! She’s about to cry. This is hilarious!”

A chorus of laughter erupted, sharp and cruel, cutting through the elegant ambiance of the event hall.

Another woman stepped forward, looping her arm around Jessica’s like they were some sort of united front.

“Do you even know who this is?” she snapped, her voice filled with contempt as her eyes bore into mine. “This is Jessica—Scott’s first love. If she hadn’t left for abroad, do you honestly think you’d have stood a chance with Scott?”

She paused dramatically, relishing the moment before delivering the final blow. “Even a fool should know how to look in the mirror. What could you possibly offer to compare with Jessica?”

I felt my throat tighten and my eyes sting, but I swallowed hard, forcing the tears to stay put. I clenched my fists and held my ground, my voice trembling but steady enough.

“I have a name. My name is Nadia, not ‘fool.’” I straightened my back, meeting their sneering gazes head-on. “I’m Scott’s wife, and you can’t bully me. What you’re doing is rude!”

The words felt strange leaving my lips, almost mechanical, like reciting a lesson I’d memorized long ago. And in a way, they were—Scott had taught me those very words when we were kids.

Back then, when the other kids teased me, called me names, or pushed me around, Scott would always step in, shielding me like a tiny knight.

“You’re not a fool,” he’d say firmly. “You’re Nadia. They’re the ones being rude, not you.”

But today, when I tried to defend myself, my words only made the women laugh louder. Their laughter was cruel, echoing through the room like an oppressive cloud.

“Ha! Everyone, come look—this is Scott’s wife!”

“Oh my God, she’s as dumb as they say!”

“What was Scott even thinking? Marrying someone like her? How does he sleep at night?”

The taunts piled on, one after another until I couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of their ridicule pressed down on me like a suffocating wave.

I shot to my feet, my voice trembling with anger and desperation. “Stop it! Stop saying these things! You’re all horrible people!” I shoved them away, my hands shaking. “Why are you bullying me? I haven’t done anything to you!”

My voice rose higher, cracking under the strain. “If you don’t leave me alone, I’ll tell Scott to deal with you!”

The woman standing beside Jessica scoffed, her expression dripping with contempt.

“Ha, do you seriously think Scott would stand up for you?” she sneered.

“Everyone in town knows Scott is crazy about Jessica. He’d do anything for her.” She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a cruel whisper that cut like glass. “If Jessica hadn’t left for Europe and broken his heart, do you really think he would’ve ever listened to his grandfather and married you?”

Her words struck a nerve so deep that I lost all control. Grabbing the glass of juice in front of me, I hurled it at the floor. The sharp sound of shattering glass echoed through the room, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Go away!” I screamed, my voice raw. “Don’t talk to me, don’t crowd around me!”

Tears streamed down my face as I sobbed uncontrollably, my chest heaving with each breath.

“You’re all horrible people! Every single one of you!”

“Scott! Scott, where are you? Come save me!”

'I’m such a fool. I don’t know how to express my emotions.' The thought echoed in my mind as I sat there, my chest tightening with a familiar, overwhelming sense of helplessness. I didn’t know how to stop the spiral once it began. When anxiety crept in, wrapping itself around me like a vice, I had no idea how to handle it.

Right then, Jessica stepped forward and reached for my hand, her voice soothing, almost maternal. “Nadia, what’s wrong? Nadia?” she said softly. “Don’t cry. It’s okay, it’s okay. Everyone’s just teasing you—they don’t mean any harm.”

She crouched down slightly, trying to meet my tear-filled eyes. “It’s fine, Nadia. Don’t be scared. I’m here.”

But her comforting tone couldn’t drown out the murmurs spreading through the hall.

“Is that Scott’s wife? First time seeing her at an event, and she’s already making a scene," a woman commented.

Another one added, “You don’t know? That’s the woman Donald Kennedy forced Scott to marry. They say she had a high fever as a kid, and it left her… not quite right in the head.”

The one right behind Jessica and Nadia even remarked, “Wow, so it’s true. She really is a fool. What on earth was Grandpa thinking? Jessica seems so much better—reasonable, beautiful, kind…”

Their whispers felt like daggers, each one slicing into me, leaving me raw and exposed. But through my tears, I forced myself to look at Jessica.

At that moment, she leaned in close, her lips brushing against my ear. Her tone shifted, her voice low and dripping with venom, meant for only me to hear.