For eight long years, Bryan Millan and I were married, but you’d never have known it by looking at his life. He never once acknowledged our relationship in public. Not a single post, not a single mention of me on his social media.

Then came our anniversary. The day that was supposed to be about us. Instead, Bryan made an announcement on his Instagram account—just not the one I expected.

There he was, hand in hand with his assistant, her draped in a wedding dress. The caption read: [When you're in love, you want the whole world to know.]

The comments flooded in.

[Bryan finally got married!]

[Congrats! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together!]

In that moment, I could no longer lie to myself. Bryan wasn't reserved. He just never loved me.

So, I decided to let go.

But he wasn't ready for that.

He clung to me, desperate now. But I pried his hands off and laughed—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that comes from somewhere deep inside when you realize you're finally free.

Then, I looked him straight in the eye and said the words I'd been holding in, "Don't beg me to come back. Because now that I don't love you, I've never felt better."

I was running into the subway station, drenched and breathless, when I saw Bryan Millan's latest Instagram post.

Today was our eighth wedding anniversary.

We were supposed to have dinner together. I had even taken the day off. But no matter how many times I called, his phone remained unreachable.

With nothing else I could do, I checked out his Instagram.

And in an instant, the blood in my veins turned to ice.

There was a photo of his young female assistant, dressed in a wedding gown, her fingers interlocked with his.

Their faces were turned slightly to the side. They were smiling sweetly at each other.

The caption read: [When you're in love, you want the whole world to know.]

The comments rolled in, all variations of the same shock:

[Bryan finally got married!]

[Congrats! Wishing you a lifetime of happiness together!]

My eyes burned. My hands trembled.

I was his wife.

And yet, his friends had never even known I existed.

I had been the one to chase after him. The moment we got together, I had excitedly announced it to the world, telling every friend and relative.

But he never acknowledged me. No wedding. No public posts. Not a single trace of me on his social media.

I had cried, argued, and begged for a place in his life. He always dismissed it with a simple excuse—he wasn't comfortable sharing personal things online.

I had loved him, so I made excuses for him, too. I told myself he just wasn't the type to show off.

But now, with this bright, glaring declaration of love in front of me, I could no longer deceive myself.

Bryan wasn't reserved. He just didn't love me.

The rain kept falling, relentless, showing no sign of stopping.

And I no longer had a reason to wait.

No one was coming to pick me up.

So, I walked home alone. The downpour soaked me to the bone, the cold seeping into my heart, leaving it numb.

It wasn't until midnight that Bryan finally returned.

But this time, there was no warm welcome, no eager smile waiting for him. Only silence, thick and heavy, filling the unlit room.

He flicked on the light, frowning slightly, as if the emptiness unsettled him.

Then, deliberately, he made enough noise to wake me.

"You called so many times that I had to leave the company party early," he said, annoyed. "And now you have the nerve to be asleep already?"

He tossed something onto the bed—a small box.

"Here. Your present."

His tone carried the weight of someone bestowing a favor, like he expected gratitude. He even leaned down, magnanimously, ready to slip the ring onto my finger himself.

The old me would have cried tears of joy, believing this was an act of love.

But now, all I felt was disgust. I pulled my hand away.

His expression darkened instantly. "Lydia, what's wrong with you? Stop acting crazy."

He studied me for a moment, then sneered.

"You're mad about my Instagram post? That was just the company's wedding venue setup. Peggy and I were only pretending to be bride and groom to test it out. The post was just for fun. Why are you being so petty?"

Bryan had never been a patient man.

When I didn't respond within three seconds, he clicked his tongue in irritation and turned his back to me—his usual way of showing anger.

He knew how much I loved him. He knew how terrified I was of losing him.

That's why he never hesitated to push me to the edge.

In the past, this would have worked. I would've immediately panicked, rushed to apologize, coaxed him back—whether or not I was at fault.

But this time, I said nothing.

Minutes passed. I didn't move.

Eventually, he grew impatient. He turned around, ready to scold me—

Only to find me already asleep, my back to him.

Anger flashed across his face. He grabbed my shoulder roughly and flipped me over, about to yell—

Then, he froze.

My cheeks were unnaturally flushed. My skin burned under his touch.

"You have a fever?"

A pause. Then his voice turned suspicious.

"...You're not faking this to mess with me, are you?"

I felt feverish. My body was aching all over. My limbs were heavy, and I couldn't even summon the strength to argue back.

At least Bryan finally noticed the pile of soaked clothes in the corner. A flicker of realization passed through his eyes—something like guilt, or maybe just reluctant responsibility. Without another word, he rushed to dress me and get me to the hospital.

His phone rang a few times, but for once, he ignored it, too focused on helping me.

Until that one ringtone.

He had just pulled me up when it chimed through the room. Without hesitation, his hands left me. I barely managed to stay upright as he strode into the living room to answer.

A saccharine voice drifted over. "Bryan, the party's over. The rain's so heavy… Can you come pick me up?"

No hesitation. Not even a pause. He simply threw a cursory "I have to go, I'll be back soon" over his shoulder before vanishing out the door.

My mouth tasted bitter. My heart felt even worse.

She had her own custom ringtone, just one chime, and he picked up immediately. Meanwhile, I had called him over and over, stranded in the storm, my calls lost in the sea of unimportant notifications.

Why had I never seen it before?

Love and indifference—it only took one glance to tell them apart.

With the last of my strength, I dialed for an ambulance before the fever dragged me under.

…

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed.

Familiar voices had stirred me awake. Through the crack in the door, I saw Bryan.

He was standing outside, carefully supporting Peggy Westin, his assistant. Even his voice was laced with concern.

"You got a little wet getting out of the car. Let's have a doctor check on you, just in case. I don't want you ending up like Lydia."

As they passed my room, Peggy glanced up. Our eyes met.

A slow, taunting smile curled her lips.

"Oh, Bryan," she cooed, her voice all honey and malice, "Lydia has a fever, but you didn't stay with her?" She pouted. "Is it because I'm more delicate? Because if I got sick, you'd be more worried?"

Bryan hesitated for half a second before brushing it off. "I'll take her to the hospital after I get you checked out."

Just then, a nurse pushed open my door.

"Lydia, you're awake. Has your family arrived yet?"

Bryan stiffened.

But Peggy, unsatisfied with losing his attention even for a second, tugged at his sleeve and whined that they were calling her name.

Once, that would've torn me apart. I would've sobbed, begged, felt like my heart was being carved out of my chest.

But now?

I pressed a hand to my chest and felt… nothing. Or maybe just numbness.

I smiled and shook my head. "No one's coming. I can handle the paperwork myself."

The nurse frowned. "You passed out from a high fever. You should be resting. We can wait for your family—"

"I'm her family." Bryan's deep voice cut through the hallway.

The nurse blinked, glancing between Bryan and Peggy, still clinging to his arm. Then she nodded and told him to go handle my hospitalization.

At that moment, Peggy clutched her forehead and whimpered, "I don't feel well…"

Bryan hesitated.

Then he said, "Give her some medicine first. I'll come back to pay later."

And with that, he swept her up in his arms and walked away.

I stayed seated on the bed, unmoving.

I hadn't expected anything. And when you expect nothing, nothing can hurt you.

…

I called my best friend to the hospital.

She paid the hospital fees, bought me porridge, and sat by my bedside, chatting about anything and everything to keep me company.

Three, maybe four hours passed before Bryan finally texted me.

[Can't make it. Ordered you food.]

It was beef porridge. With cilantro.

I hated cilantro.

Without even looking at it, I tossed the container straight into the trash.

My friend hesitated. "Did you two fight?"

Once, I would have forced myself to eat it anyway. I would have been grateful—treasured every careless scrap of attention he threw my way.

A couple sat in the hospital bed across from me. The girl was hooked up to an IV while the boy fussed over her, running errands, making sure she was comfortable.

That look on his face—that was what love looked like.

But in all my years with Bryan, I had never once seen him look at me like that.

I let out a soft laugh. "No, we didn't fight. I just… suddenly don't love him anymore."

I glanced at my friend. "Know any good divorce lawyers?"

The words had barely left my lips when Bryan's cold, furious voice came from the doorway.

"Say that again."

"Divorce? Don't even think about it." Bryan shoved my best friend out the door and locked it behind him.

Then he kissed me, violent and relentless.

I bit down hard, tasting blood before he finally let go.

His gaze darkened. "Playing hard to get now, are we?"

He let out a cold laugh. "Fine. You've been dying for me to acknowledge you, haven't you? Well, let's go."

He made a quick call to one of his buddies, then yanked the IV from my arm and carried me out, ignoring my struggles.

Peggy's ringtone chimed over and over, but he didn't even glance at his phone. He was too busy keeping me pinned down in the car.

Inside a private dining room, his friends were already gathered.

With a stony face, he ordered, "Guys, meet my wife."

The group exchanged bewildered glances before forcing out a few half-hearted greetings.

Eight years of marriage, endless fights, and only now did he finally introduce me to them.

But I couldn't bring myself to care anymore.

I shook my head. "No need for that. We're getting a divorce soon."

His face turned to ice.

The tension in the room thickened. Seizing the chance, I excused myself to the restroom, stepping out for some air.

That's when I overheard someone ask him, "For real, Bryan? This is actually your wife? Why'd you keep it a secret?"

"And what's the deal with Peggy? Your new girl or what?"

Bryan's voice was indifferent. "Lydia is my wife, yeah. But if she hadn't chased after me so desperately, I wouldn't have married her. As for Peggy, she's just my assistant."

I couldn't say whether he loved her or not.

But he definitely didn't love me.

Otherwise, how could he reduce my years of devotion to something so worthless?

Good thing I'd stopped caring.

I pushed the door open. The room fell silent.

Faces stiffened. His friends looked awkward and uneasy.

Even Bryan looked momentarily thrown off, though he quickly masked it with irritation when he saw my calm expression.

Just as he was about to speak, that ringtone cut through the air again.

Peggy's voice, trembling with tears, rang out. "Bryan, where are you? They're about to give me the injection. I'm so scared…"

The hardness in his expression melted instantly. His voice turned gentle. "I'm on my way."

I let out a quiet breath, thinking he was finally done with me.

But before I could take a step, he seized my wrist in a vice grip.

"Lydia, whether you like it or not, you're mine. Alive or dead, you belong to me. I'm never agreeing to a divorce. And don't even think about running. From now on, wherever I go, you go."

I almost yelled at him.

Instead, I slapped him hard across the face.

"Bryan, are you out of your mind? You're running off to your little lover, and you expect me to tag along?"