Congratulations! You have been accepted into the Interior Design program at Kensington University, London.

I could hardly believe that the dream I had kept buried for so long was finally coming true.

I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to scream to the world that I had made it. But when I thought about the first person I wanted to tell—Bobby, my husband of five years—my smile instantly faded.

Bobby wasn’t here. He wasn’t by my side to celebrate this moment. Instead, he was having fun with his friends at a luxury hotel downtown. I knew this because my coworker, Amelia, had shown me a social media post.

There was Bobby, his charming smile wide as ever, standing in the middle of his group of friends. But what shocked me the most was the presence of Grace, Bobby’s coworker, who had been coming up in our conversations a lot lately. In the photo, Grace was leaning intimately against Bobby, and in the next slide… there was a video of them passionately kissing.

I immediately turned my face away from Amelia’s phone screen. Deep down, I had known something was wrong for a while, but seeing the proof with my own eyes still felt like a dagger to my chest. Tears began streaming down my face uncontrollably.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. Bobby had always belittled me, treating my dreams as something too grand for someone like me—a waitress.

“You know, Irish, prestigious universities like that don’t take people like you,” he had once said, his condescending tone barely concealed.

But I did it. I proved him wrong. Yet strangely, this victory felt hollow when I realized that the person I always thought would support me was the one who doubted me the most.

That day, I decided Bobby didn’t need to know about my acceptance. He didn’t deserve to hear this good news, just as he didn’t deserve me. I was going to leave Bobby and all the bad memories that came with him. I would go to London and start a new life.

---

The restaurant was winding down as Uncle Jack, the owner of the place and the only family I had left, finished his work for the night. I handed him my acceptance letter, and his soft blue eyes immediately lit up.

“I knew you could do it, Irish!” he exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

I smiled, even though my heart felt heavy thinking about the goodbye that was soon to come. Uncle Jack was the only person who had always believed in me, who had always supported me, even when the world seemed against me.

“Are you going to go with Bobby?” he asked gently.

My smile faded, and I shook my head. Uncle Jack let out a heavy sigh, his expression one of quiet understanding. He had probably known this would happen.

He handed me an envelope. “This is the address of the Mitchell family. They’ve been waiting to hear about this. Remember, they once offered to arrange a match between you and their eldest son. But you chose to marry Bobby instead. Even so, they’re still willing to take you in while you start your studies there.”

I bit my lower lip, a wave of discomfort and guilt washing over me. “I don’t want to burden them, Uncle. I can stay in a dorm and find a part-time job.”

Uncle Jack shook his head, his expression firm. “At least for now, stay with them. You’ll need support as you begin your life in a big city like London.”

“Harry, their eldest son, is a professor at your university. He’ll help you.”

I was silent. The name Mitchell took me back to my childhood. They were my late parents’ friends. I remembered meeting Harry, their eldest son, years ago when they visited our home. He was older than me, and back then, he was a troublemaker who always made me cry.

I suppressed a small smile as I recalled how annoying Harry had been. Now, I heard he was a professor at the university I would be attending. The irony was astounding, considering I had once sworn I never wanted to see him again.

“All right, Uncle,” I finally said. “I’ll stay with them for now. But as soon as I’m independent, I’ll move out.”

Uncle Jack smiled in satisfaction and patted my shoulder. “That’s the Irish I know.”

---

That night, Bobby showed up at the restaurant. He stood at the door, wearing the smile that used to warm my heart. But this time, his smile felt like thorns.

“Irish, let’s go home. I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, as if nothing was wrong.

But he wasn’t alone. Grace stood beside him, wearing a tight red dress that hugged her figure perfectly. She smiled at me—a victorious smile.

I stared at them, my heart pounding. I knew what they had done. I knew.

But I said nothing. I just gave a faint smile, nodded, and followed them to the car.

During the ride, I sat in the back seat. Bobby kept glancing at my somber expression.

“You didn’t get into the scholarship program, did you?” he guessed. He knew today was the announcement.

“Hmm…” I responded briefly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make you some hot chocolate to cheer you up.”

“Hmm…” I repeated the same answer, giving him no reaction. Then I closed my eyes. I wasn’t really asleep. I was trying to suppress my anger.

But I heard something that made my blood boil.

“Is she asleep?” Grace asked, her voice low but teasing.

“Of course,” Bobby replied casually. “Irish always falls asleep quickly after a long day at work.”

Grace chuckled softly. “Then can I tease you now?”

Bobby laughed. “Be patient, darling. Wait until we get to your apartment.”

“I can’t wait…” Grace murmured, leaning closer to Bobby. From the corner of my barely open eyes, I saw her unbutton the top of his shirt, her hand stroking his chest flirtatiously.

I clenched my fists, trying hard to hold back my tears. They talked as if I wasn’t there, as if I were a lifeless doll.

When we arrived at my apartment, Bobby tried to act sweet. He made me hot chocolate, just as he had promised. But I didn’t care. I only stared at him coldly, saying nothing.

Suddenly, Bobby’s phone rang. It was a call from Grace. I could clearly see her name on the screen. Bobby pressed the speaker button, and Grace’s voice filled the room.

“Bobby, the AC in my apartment is broken. Can you come over now?”

Bobby glanced at me briefly before answering. “I have to ask Irish first. If she says yes, I’ll come. If not, you’ll have to find someone else.”

I gave him a bitter smile. “Why bother asking for my permission? You always do whatever you want, don’t you?”

“Oh, come on, Irish. Don’t take out your disappointment on others. I’m just helping Grace fix her AC, and then I’ll come right back. Go to sleep, and good night, darling…” he said, kissing my forehead before leaving.

I started at the door he had just closed, fighting back my tears. In a few days, I would be gone. And when that day came, I would never look back.

#Irish’s POV

That morning, the cold air stung my skin as I stepped out of the bedroom. But the chill in the air was nothing compared to the searing heat suddenly burning in my chest. Grace was standing in our living room, her smile bright as she adjusted Bobby’s tie—my husband’s tie.

Time seemed to stop. My eyes locked onto her skillful hands, her fingers brushing against Bobby’s chest with a tenderness that should have been reserved for me. Morning was far too early for a "friend" to drop by, especially for something so intimate.

“Oh, Irish, you’re awake!” Grace exclaimed with a sugary sweetness that made my stomach churn. Her smile was wide, as if nothing was amiss. “I just wanted to thank you for letting Bobby help me last night. If he hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have been able to sleep well.”

I frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Bobby, without hesitation, explained, “I brought Grace here last night. You were already asleep, so I didn’t get the chance to tell you.”

My heart dropped. There wasn’t a trace of guilt in his voice, just a flat explanation, as if I was supposed to accept his unilateral decision.

“I’m only here until the AC in my apartment is fixed,” Grace added. “Don’t worry, I won’t be a bother.”

“Consider this your home too,” Bobby replied with a smile that should have been mine. He even tucked a strand of Grace’s hair behind her ear with a tenderness that made me want to scream.

I couldn’t bear to listen any longer. I felt the anger bubbling inside me, but I swallowed it down. I walked into the kitchen, trying to escape the scene that was tearing my heart apart. My hands busied themselves with breakfast ingredients, but my mind spiraled. Their laughter echoed from the dining room, as if I didn’t exist.

I slammed a pan harder than I intended, the loud clang drawing Bobby’s attention. He came over, wrapping his arms around me from behind, attempting to soothe me. His touch, which used to bring me comfort, now felt cold and filled with pretense.

“Let me cook. You sit down, sweetheart,” he said gently, trying to take the spatula from my hand.

I let it go without a word and walked out of the kitchen, leaving him to finish what I had started. My absence only gave Grace more room to get closer to Bobby. I heard her voice offering to help, but Bobby firmly refused, telling her to sit with me instead.

Grace sat across from me, a small smile on her face. “Irish, if you don’t like me being here, I can leave now.”

I didn’t even have a chance to respond before Bobby interjected, “Grace, don’t misunderstand. Irish isn’t mad at you; she’s just upset because... her dreams haven’t come true yet.”

I glared at him, shocked by his words.

Meanwhile, Grace put on a somber expression, pretending she cared. But I could see the hidden satisfaction behind her act.

To ease the tension, Bobby offered, “I’ll come home early tonight and take you shopping. You can buy whatever you want.” Bobby always thought money could fix everything, but he was wrong. I didn’t need expensive gifts or shopping trips. What I needed was his attention and loyalty—two things he no longer seemed capable of giving.

He seemed to have forgotten how I had accepted him when he was just an ordinary employee, earning a modest salary and living simply. Back then, he gave me his whole heart. His time and effort were devoted entirely to me.

Now, with his high-ranking position at the company, he had started to neglect his loyalty and treat me like a pet—one that only needed to be fed and housed.

“But Bobby,” Grace chimed in, “don’t we have an appointment with Dr. Frans today? I need to get my liver checked.”

I saw Bobby flinch, clearly remembering the appointment. “You’re right. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said to me. “Grace needs support. Her condition is quite serious.”

I swallowed hard, forcing down the pain stabbing my heart. “I understand,” I replied softly.

He smiled, relieved, and pulled out his phone to transfer money to my account. “Use this to treat yourself. Invite your friends, okay?”

I nodded without a word. As he stood and prepared to leave with Grace, I noticed how he no longer kissed my forehead before going—a small gesture that used to make me feel loved. Now, even that was gone.

After Bobby left, I called Uncle Jack, asking for permission not to come to the restaurant. “I have something to take care of,” I said briefly.

I went to the civil registry office with determined steps. When I arrived, I filled out the divorce application form. Each letter I wrote was a small step toward freedom.

The clerk at the counter looked at me sympathetically as I handed her the document. “Are you sure, ma’am?” she asked softly.

I nodded. “There’s nothing left to save.”

But my journey didn’t stop there. I continued to the immigration office to change my passport. The name on the form was no longer the old Irish. I chose a new name, a symbol of the new life I would build without Bobby.

“Two weeks from now, you will no longer be a citizen of this country, ma’am,” the clerk said as she handed me my new identity papers.

Irish's POV

When I arrived home, the house was eerily silent. Bobby wasn’t back yet. My eyes were drawn to the guest room door, which was slightly ajar. My steps faltered for a moment before my legs involuntarily moved closer, as if a magnet was pulling me toward it. There, I was met with a reality I had never wanted to face.

The crumpled sheets on the bed immediately led my mind to a conclusion I refused to believe. As I stepped inside, a familiar scent filled the air—Bobby’s cologne mixed with another unmistakable smell. My body trembled violently. The image of them sharing the most intimate act in this room struck me like a blow, leaving me weak. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the cold floor. It felt like every joint in my body had lost its strength.

As my mind spiraled into chaos, my eyes caught sight of something unusual—a phone lying carelessly on the bed. Bobby never left his phone unattended. It was one of his most prized possessions. But now, it seemed as if it meant nothing. Could it be because he felt that everything important to him was already by his side?

With trembling hands, I picked up the phone. I typed in the passcode—my birthday, which for some reason, he still used. However, as I accessed it, my heart shattered all over again. Every memory of me had disappeared from his gallery. The photos were replaced with pictures of him and Grace.

Then, a notification popped up from his work group chat. A surge of curiosity pushed me to open it.

against Grace, obviously.]

And then Grace’s comments pierced deeper, as if she intended to drive the knife further into my heart.

[I’ve even spent the night at Bobby’s house. His wife didn’t mind at all.]

[Haha, what a foolish wife.]

Grace: [Bobby and I are like royalty, and his wife is our maid.]

[Hahaha, Grace, you’re insane! If she ever finds out, you’re doomed.]

Grace: [She won’t. She’s an orphan. She might sulk, but she’ll still stay with Bobby. And Bobby would never leave me. I’m certain of it.]

[Such a sad life...]

My chest felt tight reading those messages. They laughed at my misery. But the most painful thing was that Bobby didn’t defend me—not even once. They all assumed I would stay with Bobby despite all this betrayal.

Suddenly, my phone rang. Uncle Jack’s name appeared on the screen.

"Irish, you’ll still be here on the 25th, right? We’ve got a big catering order, and we need your help."

I hesitated for a moment. The date was too close, but I knew this might be my last job at the restaurant before leaving it for good.

"Alright, Uncle. I’ll do it," I finally replied.

For days, I didn’t go home. After finishing my shifts at the restaurant, I spent my time at the library, gathering materials for my studies in London. There was so much to prepare that I almost forgot about the house.

But one morning, Bobby unexpectedly showed up at the restaurant. His face was filled with anger.

"Have you forgotten that you’re married? You have responsibilities to take care of me!" he snapped.

I looked at him coldly. "Isn’t Grace there? I thought the two of you would be fine without me."

"Irish! Grace isn’t a maid. She’s recovering and can’t do household chores. She needs plenty of rest to prevent her liver from relapsing. You should understand that, instead of running away like this!"

"I’m busy, Bobby."

"Busy? You’re becoming disrespectful! Is this how you repay everything I’ve done for you?"

"Bobby, you’re not the only one with priorities. I have mine too. I won’t always cater to your demands, especially when they involve Grace!"

"Ah… so you’re jealous of her?"

I scoffed. "Not at all."

"Your attitude says otherwise."

"And what then? Will you leave her when the truth comes out?"

"Come on, Irish. We’re married. Grace is just a colleague—nothing more."

I smirked sarcastically. "Oh, really?"

"Fine. To ease your anger, I’ll take you to the party tomorrow. I’ll introduce you to my friends. You want to be recognized as my wife, don’t you?"

"I don’t have time."

Bobby growled in frustration. "Ck! I’ve tried. But if this is how you want to act, then do whatever you want!"

He stormed off, leaving me in a whirlwind of emotions.

The next day, fate seemed to mock me. It turned out the party I was catering for was the same party Bobby and Grace were attending. They stood side by side, wearing matching outfits, looking every bit like a couple.

"Miss, could you please pour some soup into my bowl?" a woman’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I grabbed the bowl and poured the soup. But with my shaky hands and unstable emotions, the soup spilled onto her hand.

"Oh my God! Can you even do your job? My hand is burning!" she yelled.

I quickly apologized, grabbing a tissue to wipe her hand while repeatedly saying sorry. The commotion caught everyone’s attention.

"Isn’t that Bobby’s wife?" someone murmured.

I lifted my head, and Bobby’s gaze locked onto mine. His face was hard, still harboring anger from yesterday. Grace, standing beside him, clung to his arm, flaunting her position in my presence.

"Bobby, is this what Irish meant when she said she was busy?" Grace taunted with a smug smile.

"Let her be. It’s her choice," Bobby replied coldly.

I couldn’t take it anymore.