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?

His eyes, which had been locked with mine as he knelt to my level, suddenly darted around the room, avoiding my gaze. He stood up so quickly that he didn’t even notice when he bumped into the corner of the table.

I had never heard him speak to me in such a gentle, soothing voice before.

"Okay, okay, don’t move, Grace. I’ll be right there!"

He grabbed his keys from the table and shot me a quick, apologetic look. "Tess, you’ll be fine, right? Grace has twisted her ankle, and she’s out there alone. I need to take her to the hospital."

"I’ll be back in no time!" he repeated, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

He even bent down to kiss the top of my head, like he used to when we were close. The once familiar gesture disgusted me. He was rotten to the core, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.

I don't know where I found the strength, but I shouted after him, "If you walk out that door, we’re done, for good."

He paused, just for a second before he hurried out the door.

I already knew it would come to the. I had known it for a while but couldn’t help asking, hoping for a different answer. As I lay there on the cold, marble floor, the chill pressed into my stomach, mocking me for my naivety.

Sweat drenched my body despite the icy floor beneath me. My arms felt like they were weighed down with lead, too heavy to lift. The pain, far from subsiding, was growing more intense with every passing second. My eyes flicked to the clock on the wall as the hands slowly ticked forward, but there was no sign of him returning.

The wound burned even though it was the middle of winter. I was sweating from the pain, my body betraying me. Desperate, I reached for my phone, but as soon as I unlocked it, a notification popped up, showing me a new post from Grace.

[Stargazing with the Big Guy,] it read, with a picture of them both camping on a mountainside.

I let out a bitter laugh. The algorithm sure knew exactly how to twist the knife when I was at my lowest.

I scrolled through her posts, my fingers trembling. She was a small-time influencer, documenting her everyday life with her “Big Guy.”

Little did I know, they had been traveling across the country together, visiting almost every corner. All those times Eric claimed he was away on business trips, he had been on vacations with her.

Where was I? At home, taking care of his sick mother, consoling his heartbroken sister, and playing the perfect wife while my marriage was falling apart behind my back.

What a fool I was. I thought my marriage was still intact, but it had been broken beyond repair for a long time.

I couldn’t tell if the pain in my chest was worse than the physical pain, but oddly, after a while, the sharpness of my wound seemed to dull.

For the next few days, I stayed in the house, waiting for him to return, but he never did. He didn’t even remember the promises he made. It was just like how he had forgotten all the promises he made back when we first got married. I didn’t have to worry about work since it was winter break, so there was no need to request leave.

When I finally got the divorce papers ready, I left. The house, which I had lovingly built from the ground up, was no longer my home, and packing was harder than I expected. Every brick and piece of furniture had been chosen by me. In the end, I decided to travel light. I packed only the essentials—a few seasonal clothes—and headed to Riverdale.

As soon as my flight landed, I received a message from Eric.

"Where are you? Don’t tell me you’re pulling a runaway-girl stunt."

I scowled at the screen, then blocked him.

Riverdale was a warm city, even in the depths of winter. The chill didn’t bite the same way it did back home. Chris was already waiting for me at the airport.

Years had passed, but he still looked the same, like the kind, gentle boy I remembered. His sharp features were softened by the gold-rimmed glasses he wore, giving him a scholarly air.

We had lost touch over the years, mostly because Eric didn’t like me keeping in contact with other guys. Chris, always respectful, had backed off, only sending polite greetings during holidays.

Seeing him again after so long, the joy was undeniable. He pulled me into a tight hug the moment he saw me.