At the peak of my career, my husband slapped me in public. 

With a look of disgust, he said, “Tess, you’re pathetic. You made Grace fail the class because you’re jealous. Don’t you know she’s applying for a scholarship?”

Caught off guard, I stumbled and fell to the ground, clutching my stomach as pain surged through me. I knelt there, begging him to take me to the hospital. 

However, all he did was swat my hand away and sneer. “Quit the act! Aren’t you just a useless woman who can’t get pregnant?”

At that moment, my heart felt like it had shattered into a million pieces. It wasn’t long before bystanders intervened, insisting on taking me to the hospital. Unfortunately, it was too late to save the baby.

Once the surgery was over and the reality of what had happened sank in, I turned to him and demanded a divorce.

The surgery had just ended, and my phone wouldn’t stop ringing.

“Tess, where the heck are you? Why haven’t you sorted out the academic warning with the administration yet?” Eric’s irritated voice came through the receiver.

I licked my dry lips before responding, “I’m at the hospital. And by the way, I want a divorce.”

The empty feeling of losing the baby and the searing pain of the procedure spread through every bone in my body.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before he broke the silence.

“Tess, are you serious right now? You’re too old to be playing these jealous, manipulative games. I’m taking Grace for a little getaway. Maybe you should use this time to think things through.”

I stared at the screen as the call disconnected, still heartbroken. There was not a single word of concern or even a question about why I was at the hospital—nothing to comfort me. We felt like strangers now, and I couldn’t help but wonder, what did our seven years together even mean?

Due to my health, it has always been hard for me to conceive. In the beginning, whenever his mother would pester us about having kids, Eric always had my back.

“Mom, I’m not ready for kids yet. My career is just taking off,” he used to say.

Thinking back, it was almost laughable. As I couldn’t get pregnant, we decided to sponsor a child in a rural area, and somehow, that led to Grace becoming a part of his life. Over time, he stopped defending me and started echoing his mother’s demands, pressuring me to take fertility pills every day.

“Tess, we’re not getting any younger. It’s time we have a child.”

He was the reason I forced myself to swallow the pills for six long months. Even though I had always hated anything bitter, I endured it. Then, when I finally got pregnant, before I could even tell him, he had the baby taken away.

Returning to the home I had painstakingly decorated and built, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of irony. All the time and effort I had poured into this marriage felt like one big joke.

I unlocked my phone, only to see a new message from Grace, filled with pictures from her vacation in the Maldives.

[I heard this place is the city of romance. Big thanks to Mr. Gardner for bringing me here!] she wrote.

The pictures showed her and Eric together, close and intimate, kissing in almost every shot. The look in Eric’s eyes as he gazed at her was all too familiar. It was the same loving expression he used to have when he looked at me, but now, he didn’t even spare me a glance when we talked.

The word “Maldives” echoed in my mind, reminding me of the early days of our relationship. I once playfully told him while cuddling in his arms that I wanted our honeymoon to be in the Maldives.

He chuckled, playfully tapping my nose. “Alright, whatever my lady wants.”

However, when our honeymoon came, he canceled the trip for work, and we never went.

Years later, when I brought it up again, hoping we could finally go, his response was laced with mockery. “Tess, we’re not kids anymore. Let’s not waste time on pointless things.”

His words had left me speechless, the color draining from my face.

As if to make things worse, Grace followed up with another message. [Oops, sorry, Tess. I thought I was writing on my notes!]

I knew it was deliberate. She had always pulled little stunts like this, even before things escalated between her and Eric.

One time, I had been up for hours making bolognese for Eric. I wanted to surprise him since he was working late.

Grace had just graduated and had come to the city for college, so she was staying with us for a while. Without thinking, she knocked over the entire pot of bolognese I had been simmering for hours.

Already exhausted from pulling several all-nighters, my frustration got the better of me, and my tone was sharp.

Grace pouted and stuck out her tongue. “Sorry, Mrs. Gardner. I’m just so clumsy,” she said, her voice dripping with fake remorse.

Her words sounded apologetic, but her expression was anything but. She smirked at me, a look of triumph dancing in her eyes as if daring me to react. I clenched my fists, anger boiling up inside me as I watched her pretend to be innocent.

My voice was cold and sharp as I spoke, "When you're staying in someone else's home, you should at least remember you're a guest."

Just then, Eric rushed in, not even bothering to take off his shoes, dragging the chill of the outside snow with him. I shivered, stepping back from the cold air.

The first thing he did was check over Grace in a flurry, clearly panicked. "Are you okay, Grace? Did you get burned?"

His voice was filled with worry, something I had never seen in him before.

He quickly ran her hand under cold water, his face tense with concern. Then, he applied burn ointment with such care that it made my heart ache.

Watching them, my eyes started to sting with unshed tears as I instinctively pulled back my own hand, which had been burned by the bolognese Grace had spilled.

I was still standing there, frozen in place, when Eric finally looked at me with irritation, his brow furrowed. "I never thought you'd turn out so mean."

"All Grace did was accidentally knock something over, and you go off on her like that? It makes me wonder how you treat her when I'm not around. No wonder you can't get pregnant. You’re too evil!"

He pointed at the mess on the floor, his voice harsh. "What are you still standing there for? Clean it up before Grace steps on it and gets hurt!"

I stood there, dumbfounded. I wanted to wipe the tears from my eyes, but when I reached up, the burn on my skin had stuck to my sleeve.

At that moment, my heart sank. I bit down hard, trying to endure the searing pain as I carefully peeled the fabric away from my injured skin. However, Eric had turned away, walking over to Grace without sparing me a second glance.

I don’t know when it started, but his attention was always on Grace now. He didn’t see me at all anymore.

Not long after that, he rented Grace her own apartment. From that point on, he came home less and less, often just rushing in to grab a few things before leaving again, like he was checking in at a hotel, not coming home.

One day, I couldn't take it anymore and confronted him. “Eric, what is the meaning of this? Do you even remember that you have a family?”

He glanced up from his phone, the smile on his face fading the moment he saw me. “Don't start this again. I'm busy with work, can’t you understand?”

With that, he pulled open the door and walked out. I reached for him, but the door slammed shut, catching my hand painfully. I gasped in pain and pulled back my hand.

It felt like my world had frozen over. The physical pain was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

Just then, my phone buzzed with another message from Grace, her words filled with mockery.

"Ms. Smith, are you mad at me? You really shouldn't have failed me on purpose. Now poor Eric has to take me on vacation to help me relax. All of this is your fault, you know."

I let out a bitter laugh and replied, “Have fun.”

I barely had time to put my phone down before it rang again. It was Eric calling.

"Tess, are you seriously threatening Grace from miles away? Great job. Now she feels guilty and wants to come back. Are you happy now?"

His voice was filled with anger. "You're so disgusting. I’m the one who insisted on taking her, and it’s all because I’m trying to make it up to you. Now hurry up and apologize to her!"

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything, he hung up.

Make it up to me? What exactly did I need an apology for? I hadn’t done anything wrong.

I sat in our empty home, my heart churning with a mix of emotions I couldn’t calm. I glanced up at our wedding photo on the wall, the image of us smiling on that happy day now felt like a cruel joke.

I reached for the knife on the table. Staring at the knife in my hand, I was lost in thought.

Eric had built his wealth through real estate, but the elites always looked down on him, seeing him as a nouveau riche. In his desperate attempt to fit into the upper class, he forced me to eat half-raw steak over and over again, even though I had chronic gastritis. Every time, I’d suffer for days in pain, but all he did was shoot me disapproving looks, silently tormenting me.

As such, I fought hard to learn the proper table etiquette, trying to meet his impossible standards. However, when I finally mastered it all, he just scoffed and said, "Why would I bring you around to embarrass me again?"

Those words crushed me, leaving me breathless. Yet now, his words didn’t have the power to hurt me anymore.

With a swift motion, I sliced through the wedding photos, shredding them all into pieces.

After everything was done, I felt like all the strength had drained from my body. I collapsed to the floor, hesitating for a long moment before finally calling the number I hadn’t contacted in over a week.

I tried to steady my voice, choking back the tears. “Chris, remember the archaeological dig you mentioned in Riverdale? Do you still need more people?”

A light and teasing voice came through the phone. “Of course! Is the brilliant Tess coming to join us?”

His playful tone made me smile, even though I had just been crying. We agreed to give me a week to sort out things here before heading out.

Chris and I had grown up together, and now he was a key member of the National Historical Artifact Group. Years ago, I had given up the chance to join him on that ancient tomb dig because of Eric. Back then, Eric’s career was taking off, and if I had left for the field, I wouldn’t have been around to support him.

More importantly, Eric didn’t like me working in archaeology. He thought it was dirty and undignified. He wanted his wife to be more like a professor, not someone who worked in tombs. Eric, the great CEO, thought it was beneath him to have a wife who spent her days around ancient relics.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back my emotions, but the tears came anyway, streaming down like a flood. How much had I sacrificed for someone like him?

I sat on the couch, sleepless through the night. Early the next morning, the door opened.

It was Eric, and he looked pleased with himself. However, as soon as he saw me, his expression soured.

“Why do you look like a ghost?” he sneered.

I glanced at my phone screen, catching a glimpse of my reflection. My face, pale and swollen from crying, still bore the marks of recent surgery, and my eyes were puffy, so yeah, I probably did look a little scary.

As I stood up, intending to head to the bathroom to wash my face, he spoke again, as if trying to make up for his earlier tone. “Hey, could you make that bolognese you made for me last time? I bought all the ingredients.”

He held up the grocery bags, gesturing with a smile.

Numbly, I nodded.

‘Fine.’ I thought, ‘This will be the last thing I ever do for you.’

I busied myself in the kitchen, while Eric, surprisingly, stayed nearby to help. He even started washing vegetables and handing me ingredients, as if he were trying to learn how to make the soup himself.

Then, his phone buzzed, and he wandered off to the other side of the kitchen to grab some spices. Without thinking, my eyes drifted to his phone screen.

It was a message from Grace. [Eric, is the bolognese ready yet? I’m starving.]

The color drained from my face, and my body went cold. So that was why he was learning to make bolognese—for her.

I clenched my teeth, holding back the storm inside me, and coldly called out, “Your phone’s ringing.”

Eric hurried over, clearly flustered. He didn’t even grab the spices he’d been reaching for; he just shoved me aside.

My stomach hit the edge of the marble counter, sending a sharp pain through me. It felt like a thousand needles were stabbing into my belly all at once.

Cold sweat poured down my face as I doubled over, clutching my stomach, praying the pain would subside.

Eric’s face twisted in anger as he barked, “Why were you snooping on my phone? Do you not trust me at all anymore?”

He kept going, ranting, completely oblivious to the agony I was in. My body trembled as I sank to the floor, pale as a sheet.

When he noticed I wasn’t responding, he nudged me with his foot.

“Hey, quit faking it.”

Only when I didn’t move did he realize something was wrong. Fear flashed in his eyes as he crouched down beside me.

“Tess, are you okay?”

I licked my dry lips, barely able to whisper, “Take me to the–”

However, just then, his phone rang again. It was that same ringtone, and his face shifted awkwardly. He glanced at me, torn.

“It’s Grace. She probably has something important to say. I’ll just take this call really quick.”

I let out a bitter laugh. What did it matter what I said? Would my opinion even change anything?