Irish's POV

"Don't be like that. Now that Irish is here, let's take a photo together," Grace said in her sweet yet manipulative tone. Her hand gripped my arm firmly, ignoring the clear resistance written all over my face. She dragged me toward the altar, ensuring that all eyes in the room focused on me.

The room buzzed with murmurs that pierced through me like daggers.

"Is Bobby's wife really just a caterer? Goodness, look at her—how embarrassing." "Grace is so much better—beautiful, elegant, a true woman of class. How could Bobby end up with someone like her?" "Maybe he married her out of pity. They’re clearly from different worlds."

Each word felt heavier than the last, but the smirk on Grace's face told me this was her intention all along. She wanted to humiliate me in front of everyone. The worst part? Bobby—my husband—stood there, doing nothing. He looked uncomfortable, as if being near me was a disgrace.

I couldn’t take it anymore. With steady steps, I returned to my spot behind the catering table. But Grace, her smirk never faltering, followed me.

"What do you want?" I asked, trying to sound professional, though my voice trembled with suppressed rage.

Grace's smile turned sweeter, yet her eyes were filled with malice. "Just a small favor. Would you mind delivering that cake to the altar?" She gestured toward the towering, intricately decorated cake being pushed in by one of my colleagues, who looked visibly nervous.

This was another trap, I knew it. But for the sake of professionalism and Paman Jack’s reputation, I stepped in for my colleague. Pushing the cake-laden trolley toward the altar, I moved through the crowd that didn’t hesitate to throw more hurtful remarks my way.

"Wow, she’s really professional. Still delivering the cake for her husband and his mistress!" "Shameful. If it were me, I’d have run out of here long ago."

I clenched my fists tightly, fighting the anger bubbling inside me. It took everything not to shove the trolley over and watch the cake crash to the ground. But I couldn’t let myself or Paman Jack’s name be tarnished.

After positioning the cake on the stand, the CEO of Bobby’s company took the stage. His voice boomed through the room as he congratulated Bobby and Grace for winning the biggest tender of the year. But then his next words shattered my already fragile world.

"This celebration also marks the engagement of Bobby and Grace!"

Cheers erupted, filling the room. Grace feigned shyness, while Bobby, ever the charmer, playfully tapped her nose. Grace giggled before throwing her arms around him.

"C’mon! Kiss! Kiss!" the crowd chanted.

Under their encouragement, Bobby and Grace shared a deep kiss right before my eyes.

I froze. The air seemed to leave my lungs. Everyone knew Bobby’s status—they knew I was his wife. Yet no one cared. For the first time, it hit me just how far apart Bobby and I really were. He thrived in this glittering world, while I was nothing more than a caterer in an apron. But it was me—me—who had stood by him through everything.

Paman Jack approached me, his comforting hand resting on my shoulder. "Do whatever you need to feel better, Irish. Don’t worry about me."

His words lit something in me. Gripping the cake knife like it was a weapon, I marched toward the altar. Every step silenced the crowd. The knife in my hand felt like a samurai’s blade, poised to cut through everything standing in my way.

When I reached the cake, I sliced it into rough pieces with deliberate intensity, not caring about ruining its pristine appearance. I picked up a large slice and smeared it across Bobby’s face.

"Congratulations on your engagement!" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Then, I turned to Grace and did the same, smearing another slice across her flawless makeup.

The room fell into a shocked silence. The sound of the knife clattering to the floor echoed sharply, breaking the stillness. Without another word, I turned and walked away, head held high. Behind me, my fellow caterers followed suit, leaving the party in solidarity.

Back at the restaurant, my friends enveloped me in a warm hug. Their comfort unraveled the tight knot of emotions inside me, and I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. My chest ached, as though my grief had seeped into my very bones.

But my anguish wasn’t over yet. Bobby stormed into the restaurant, his face twisted with fury. He grabbed my arm, dragging me outside.

"You ruined everything, Irish!" he yelled, his voice venomous. Without warning, he slapped me hard across the face.

I held my stinging cheek, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my heart. With a bitter smile, I met his eyes. "What was I supposed to do, Bobby? Stay silent and still while watching my husband propose to another woman?"

"It was just a joke!" Bobby snapped defensively. "You didn’t see me give Grace a ring, did you? I did it to get ahead in my career! The CEO thinks Grace and I are a couple—that’s the only reason I played along!"

I let out a harsh, humorless laugh, staring at him with disgust. "And how does the CEO know about your ‘relationship’ with Grace, Bobby? He knows you’re married, doesn’t he? He knows your wife is still alive!"

Bobby’s silence was telling. He couldn’t answer. I stepped closer, locking eyes with him. "You sold my dignity, Bobby. You threw away everything we built together for your selfish ambitions."

I turned to leave, but Bobby grabbed my wrist, spinning me back around. "Irish, wait—"

#Irish's POV

"We're not done talking, Irish!" Bobby gripped my wrist tighter. The pressure hurt, but I pulled my hand free with all my strength.

"We're done, Bobby," I said coldly, staring straight into his eyes without hesitation. "You made your choice, and now I'm making mine. I won't let myself be used for your selfish ambitions any longer."

Bobby looked shocked, as if my words had slapped him across the face. But he quickly put on a pleading expression. "You're jealous, I know it," he said, trying to soften my heart. "I'll tell Grace to move out of our house immediately. Come home with me. I'm sorry for being insensitive to your feelings lately. But believe me, I love you. I don’t want anyone else but you."

I wanted to laugh at his words, but all that came out was a tired sigh. Believe him? No. I was just too exhausted to argue. That’s why I went along with his demands.

---

In the days that followed, I lived as though everything was fine. Bobby seemed relieved, convinced that I had returned to being his obedient wife. He had no idea that I was secretly packing my belongings little by little. I only took the essentials, ensuring that when I left, I wouldn’t leave much behind.

At the restaurant where I worked, my friends were the only ones who knew about my plan. They cried as we prepared for our impending farewell.

That night, we went to a bar to celebrate a small goodbye. We shared sweet memories with one another.

"Don’t forget about us when you succeed, Irish!" Maria exclaimed, hugging me tightly.

I gave her a small smile. "How could I forget you? You're such an important part of my life."

Before heading home, I excused myself to go to the restroom. But since I was unfamiliar with the place, I got lost in a long hallway with many rooms. As I tried to find my way back, I heard laughter coming from one of the rooms.

Slowly, I approached. My heart sank when I saw Bobby in the room with Grace and his friends. They were playing cards, laughing merrily.

"Look, Bobby, if you lose, you have to take the punishment!" one of his friends teased, followed by hearty laughter.

I pulled out my phone and called him, wanting to test his honesty.

"Sweetheart, where are you? When are you coming home?" I asked in a calm tone.

Bobby answered the call, his expression immediately stiffening. "Sorry, honey. I’m working late tonight. You should go to bed," he said flatly.

I could hear his friends playing along, pretending to talk about work as if they were really at the office.

"Alright. I’ll go to bed first," I replied, pretending to believe him.

After I hung up, their laughter erupted again.

"Why do you still keep a woman like her around, Bobby?" one of his friends sneered.

Bobby chuckled. "To take care of the house, cook, and clean, of course."

My body went weak instantly. My vision blurred as I held back tears. But I stayed there, watching as Grace clung to Bobby affectionately. She noticed my presence. Instead of feeling guilty, she ran her fingers along Bobby’s neck and kissed him passionately.

I couldn’t bear to watch anymore. With unsteady steps, I left the hallway. Each step felt heavy, as if my emotional burden weighed me down.

---

That night, Bobby didn’t come home. Instead, I received a text from Grace.

[He’s drunk and sound asleep in my bed. Get used to sharing Bobby with me from now on.]

The message was accompanied by a photo of Bobby lying naked on a bed.

[Or you could do the right thing and leave his life.]

I typed a brief reply. [Tell Bobby I left something in the room. If he comes home, tell him to check. It’s a gift from me.]

After that, I blocked her number. I grabbed the suitcase I had already packed in the corner of the room.

---

I visited my parents’ graves before heading to the airport. There, I apologized and asked for their blessings.

"Dad, Mom, I won’t be able to visit you often anymore. I have to leave. But I promise, wherever I go, I’ll keep praying for you and seeking your blessings."

I placed roses on their graves, then walked away with a heavy heart.

At the airport, Uncle Jack greeted me with a container of his homemade food. "You’ll miss this later," he said with a small smile.

"Of course, Uncle," I replied, holding back tears.

Uncle Jack had also reminded me to keep in touch, but for now, I planned to maintain a low profile. I didn’t want Bobby to harass him if he tried to find me.

As I walked toward the boarding gate, my phone buzzed again. A message from Bobby.

[Sweetheart, where are you? Please come back! I promise I won’t cheat again!]