In the seven years of marriage to Wilson, he never allowed me to mention our relationship in public.

Even when attending various banquets, Celeste was always by his side. I was nothing more than a woman under the title of his wife.

For seven years, apart from living in the same house, we were no better than strangers.

But I didn't blame him, because I was the one who betrayed him first.

We were each other's first love, and I pursued Wilson first during college.

It was a cliched story. I got his favor and we became a couple, but my father disapproved of me being with a poor guy.

I had a falling out with my family over Wilson, believing that love could conquer all.

Until my father's threats and Wilson's decision to give up his chance to study abroad...

I knew we were about to part ways.

I thought of myself as the tragic heroine in a drama, hiding my troubles and humiliating Wilson with my self-righteousness.

I let him leave and went abroad with hatred.

Years later, while my family had fallen into obscurity, Wilson had risen to prominence.

When Wilson, now incredibly wealthy, appeared before me, my first thought was not joy but fear. I feared he might still hate me.

Yet Wilson proposed to me. While I hesitated, my father impatiently agreed.

At that moment, I even wondered if Wilson knew all the hidden truths from our past. We went to the Family Court to get married, and I smiled brightly.

"The groom shouldn't look so stern." Wilson only managed to get through the process after the photographer's reminder.

After getting married, Wilson took me to the villa. "Mrs. Burch, you will live here from now on."

"And you?"

He looked at me with a fierce gaze, pressing me against the wall. "Cierra Rowland, do you really think I would fall in love again with a woman who humiliated me?"

At that moment, a chill overwhelmed me, and I couldn't bear to meet his eyes.

As he had said, in the seven years of marriage, he seldom came home, and even when he did, he never stepped into my room.

Then rumors of his affair with Celeste Mack surfaced. Later, every new drama I was cast in had Celeste as the lead, leaving me with only supporting roles.

I withdrew my thoughts and gave Abby Kramer a slight smile. "My family members are quite busy."

The manager sneered at my excuse but didn't press further.

Finally, I didn't get admitted to the hospital. With my examination report in hand, Abby took me home.

Before parting, I asked her to keep my illness confidential. Abby didn't understand why I wanted this but agreed, generously giving me a month off.

I smiled, considering it a silver lining in the misfortune.

The home was still cold and silent. I sat on the couch, clutching my report.

After some thought, I decided to text Wilson: [When will you be back?]

If I was going to leave the world soon, I hoped to reconcile with Wilson. I wanted to make one last effort.

Still, there was no reply.

It was fine. I could wait.

Late into the night, I heard a noise at the door.

When the light was turned on, I instinctively closed my eyes, adjusting for a few seconds before slowly opening them.

A familiar voice asked, "Why isn't the light on since you're home?"

I looked towards the voice and, about to stand up, saw a woman walking in with Wilson.

It was Celeste, his beloved.

In recent years, whatever I wanted and could get, he would give them to Celeste.

When I saw them together, my chest felt like it was being filled with a large dose of sour soda, painfully bitter.

Wilson had never brought anyone women home before.

I lost my temper at that moment.

"Get out!"

I yelled from my seat, like a beast defending its territory.

Celeste's eyes were immediately filled with tears. "I won an award today. Mr. Burch was so happy that he got drunk. I specifically brought him back. Cierra, please don't misunderstand."

I scoffed at her blatant show-off, no longer willing to suppress my jealousy and bitterness. "Since you've brought him back, you can leave now."

The next moment, Celeste's tears fell, her red lips pressed together stubbornly.

Wilson looked at me with growing impatience. "Cierra, have I been too nice to you lately, making you forget your place?"

In that instant, it felt like a thousand arrows pierced my heart. My anger surged uncontrollably.

"What is my place? Wilson, tell me, what is my place? Mrs. Burch? A Mrs. Burch who can be bullied by anyone?"

Wilson's face darkened, his eyes filled with disdain, and his mouth twisted into a mocking smile. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

His words devastated me. He hated me. To him, my grievances were just melodrama.

Instantly, I felt utterly defeated and exhausted. I no longer wanted to argue. I hid the report in the couch cushion and closed my eyes, resigned.

"Wilson, let's get a divorce."

The fatigue that ran deep in my heart had sapped me of the strength to even defend myself.

After seven years, I had not warmed his heart, and my passion had been completely drained.

Now that I was about to die, so be it.

Whatever.

The sound of footsteps approached. In the next moment, he was in front of me, leaning down to grip my chin, his voice cold.

"Divorce is never something you decide."

I looked into his angry eyes and smiled lightly, "But Wilson, I'm done with this marriage game. I don't want to play along anymore."