In the 30th year of our marriage, Franco Maxwell's company declared bankruptcy.

And the first thing he did?

He asked me for a divorce.

I refused.

Instead, I spent every waking hour looking for over a dozen jobs, working nonstop.

At night, I went around collecting bottles, scrimping and saving every penny to pay off his debts. I didn't spend a single cent on myself, not even when I ended up in the hospital from sheer exhaustion.

Until one day, the restaurant where I worked was booked by the wealthiest man in town for a proposal.

I was running around frantically, trying to keep up with the pace, and had to slip into the back to hide my sweaty, worn-out face from the guests.

When I looked up, I saw my husband.

Franco was kneeling on one knee, holding a three-hundred-million-dollar diamond ring, proposing to his adopted sister, Ingrid Foster.

And there, standing with them, were my two children and grandchildren, the ones I had raised alone.

God, they were joyfully celebrating.

"Aunt Ingrid is really amazing. To be with our dad, she had to lie and say she had cancer and only had a month to live. That's when our dad finally overcame his psychological barriers and proposed to her."

"Only Aunt Ingrid is good enough for a man of our father's stature. I can barely even admit I know Mom outside. She's always stuck in the kitchen, so plain-faced and pathetic!"

"Aunt Ingrid is not only beautiful but also successful, unlike Grandma, who only knows how to cook and clean at home. We don't want Grandma anymore. We want Aunt Ingrid to be our grandmother!"

Their harsh insults felt like a punch to the gut.

Right then, I realized Franco's bankruptcy was nothing but a lie. He hadn't cared about the business; he just wanted to get rid of me to be with Ingrid—the first love he couldn't have when he was younger.

All my sacrifices for this family, everything I did, had turned into a cruel joke. Overwhelmed by the weight of that cold, hard truth, I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in thirty years.

"Thirty years ago, you said you'd take me around the world. Does that promise still count??"

...

Suzy's POV

"Suzy, of course it counts! Every word I said to you back then still counts for life. It's been thirty years, and you finally turned back to look at me."

His deep voice came through the phone, still full of excitement, like a man who couldn't believe his luck.

Right away, he asked, "Where are you now? I'll come pick you up."

I gently turned him down. "I can't go with you just yet. Give me a week. I need to settle a few things here, and then I'll come find you."

On the other end of the line, the man replied with a grin I could almost hear.

"Okay, I'll wait for you. But, Suzy, if you dare go back on your word, I'll come over myself and drag you away! You'll never get away from me!"

Just as the call ended, the door opened.

Franco walked in with the kids, and Ingrid was with them.

When Franco saw that the table wasn't filled with food like usual, his face immediately darkened.

"Look at the time, Suzy! Why haven't you made dinner yet?" he said, complaining, "Can't you stop being lazy for once?"

I glanced at the sad, pitiful vegetables and meat my daughter-in-law, Marian, had brought back. The vegetables were the ones no one else wanted, all bruised and damaged, and the meat was leftovers, emitting a foul odor.

Every mealtime, Franco and the kids would refuse to eat, claiming they weren't hungry. So, I would eat it all myself.

It wasn't that I found life difficult, but I worried about their health.

After work, I would collect bottles to buy fresh meat for them so that they could eat well.

In reality, they secretly ate large fish and meat every day, while the spoiled food in the kitchen seemed to mock me. It felt like cotton needles stabbing my heart, a persistent, sharp ache.

But this time, I didn't walk into the kitchen like usual.

I sat on the sofa and refused to do what Franco asked.

"I've already eaten. I'm too tired to cook. If you want to eat, go out and get something."

The moment I said it, Franco's face turned bright red with anger.

He slammed the ashtray down by my feet and snapped, "You're purposely doing this, aren't you? You know we're broke and heavily in debt, yet you still want us to spend money on eating out. You just don't want me to turn things around, do you?!"

Andrew, my son, looked at me in disbelief and chimed in, "Mom, do you really think we have a lot of money? Aren't you worried our debtors will come knocking at our door and threaten us? We even bought the ingredients for you, and you couldn't bother to cook a single meal? How lazy can you get? You're nothing like Aunt Ingrid. She's way more diligent than you!"

Karla crossed her arms and jumped in.

"Exactly! Why can't you be more like Aunt Ingrid? She knew we were broke, so she went to the market and bought us cheap clothes—at least we had something to wear. But you, Mom? You waste food and blow what little money we've got left!"

My daughter-in-law, Marian, and son-in-law, Dylan, said nothing, but their eyes were filled with reproach.

In an instant, I became the villain.

I looked at the children I had raised, now siding with the mistress, and the fire in my chest flared up.

I asked coldly, "If Ingrid is so great, then let her do it. Why enjoy the fruits of my labor while criticizing me? Who raised you? Ingrid or me?"

At these words, their faces froze, speechless.

"Everyone, calm down. Suzy isn't doing this on purpose." Ingrid stepped in with a gentle voice, playing the peacemaker. "She must be tired. It's fine. Tonight's dinner is on me. Order whatever you want."

As she made that remark, Ingrid discreetly showcased the large diamond ring on her left-hand ring finger.

I had seen that diamond ring a month ago when I found it in Franco's pocket while cleaning his coat.

When we got married, we didn't have much, so I could only afford a $9.99 ring. Franco promised me that when our lives improved, he'd buy me an actual wedding ring.

Naturally, I believed the ring was meant for me. Every day, I waited with my heart pounding, dreaming of the moment he'd place it on my finger.

But on our anniversary, it never came.

I was then told the Maxwell family had gone bankrupt.

I thought Franco had sold the ring to pay off the debts, but now I realize that he never intended to give it to me at all.

Hearing that Ingrid would treat everyone—my children, their partners, and my grandchildren—all looked at me with even more disdain.

My grandson Tommy pointed right at me and sneered, "Grandma's useless. She doesn't do anything and won't even cook! Why should we bring her along? People like her don't deserve to eat!"

My granddaughter, Thalia, nodded in agreement, throwing her lollipop at my face.

"Grandma is useless. Grandma is embarrassing. Only Aunt Ingrid deserves to be our grandma!"

I looked at the grandchildren I had raised, feeling my nails digging into my flesh.

I couldn't hold in their insults anymore.

I snapped back at them, "Fine, since you all like her so much, from now on, let her be your grandmother."

Franco saw I was upset and scoffed, "You now feel wronged, Suzy? Isn't what Tommy and Thalia said the truth? If you can't handle it, just divorce me, Suzy! Do you really think we're gonna feel bad for you after all this?"

I looked at the man I had loved for thirty years and felt a profound sense of unfamiliarity.

Suppressing the bitterness in my chest, I calmly told him, "You're right. I do regret it. So, Franco, let's get a divorce."

Suzy's POV

As soon as I said that, the entire room fell silent for two seconds.

I could see the fleeting joy on their faces as if they couldn't wait to kick me out of the house the very next second.

Franco's look was resigned, as if he'd expected this moment all along, his eyes nearly cold, though I could still see the faintest trace of something I couldn't quite identify.

"Alright, fine. You said it yourself. Don't regret it, Suzy," he warned, his voice colder than it should have been.

I didn't flinch.

"Oh, I won't regret it," I replied, my voice calm, almost detached.

I didn't expect him to be surprised by how quickly I agreed, but Franco was. His face twitched, his confidence faltering, like a weight had suddenly fallen on him. He couldn't quite understand it, but I could.

After all, I had already made my peace with this.

Of course, he already had a plan. He took a divorce agreement from the drawer, gave it to me, and instructed me to sign it, as if it were a business deal. With their hopeful expressions fixed on me, I leaned down and signed, feeling the full force of their gaze.

Franco followed suit without hesitation, his signature almost a reflex.

Then, he spoke, and the words felt like cold metal.

"This is just a fake divorce. Over the next month, I'll use all my resources to fix Maxwell Group. I'm divorcing you to spare you the downfall. You have to understand. I have good intentions. After a month, we'll remarry."

'Good intentions?' I repeated inwardly.

I wanted to tell him that there was no such thing as a fake divorce, only a real one.

But what good would that do?

The truth wouldn't change anything. I could see it in Franco's eyes.

This wasn't about saving me. It was about saving him.

As I turned to head back to my room, I heard Tommy's excited voice from the door.

"Great! Now, Grandpa and Aunt Ingrid can finally get married! Aunt Ingrid will be our grandma from now on!"

His words immediately quieted, and I knew why.

Andrew probably held Tommy's mouth shut to prevent him from speaking further.

I smiled, but tears suddenly slipped down my cheeks without warning.

For thirty years, I had sacrificed my dreams, set aside any career ambitions, and poured everything into being Franco's wife.

I had raised our kids, and when they were too busy to care for their children, I had raised my grandchildren, too. I never took a day off. I thought my efforts, my heart, my endless giving would somehow earn their love, but now it hit me—how foolish I had been.

In their eyes, I was just the lazy woman who never did anything but hang around the kitchen.

Why should I keep trying?

Why should I keep investing myself in a family that preferred Ingrid?

If they wanted her, then fine. They could have her.

In a week, I'd be gone.

Forever.

...

The next morning, I quit all my jobs, except for the cleaning position at the music hall.

My manager told me a big-time client had reserved the entire venue for a private concert to celebrate his wife. He needed everyone working, and since I was the one he trusted, he asked me to stay for the day with the promise of three times my regular pay. I couldn't refuse, so I agreed.

What I didn't expect, though, was that the man who had rented out the entire music hall was none other than Franco.

It turned out Ingrid had an interest in music and wanted to hold her own concert.

Franco spared no expense to make it happen. He even invited hundreds of prominent figures to witness her 'big moment.'

Years ago, I stumbled upon an online post about one of my handmade bags.

To my surprise, it went viral, and people begged me to open an online store. I felt such pride knowing others were loving something I'd poured my heart into.

So that night, I talked to Franco about it, eager to finally pursue something I cared about.

But instead of excitement, his face turned red with anger.

"Suzy, you're thirty years old and have a family! Can you stop thinking about yourself? If you spend all your time on this, who will take care of the kids and me?"

Then, Franco even said, "Don't be so selfish. You're my wife and the kids' mother. You need to take responsibility for this family."

And so, my dreams of doing something for myself were once again crushed.

Now, months later, as I watched them hand in hand at the music hall, the crowd was buzzing with excitement.

"Mr. Maxwell never brings a partner to events. This must be Mrs. Maxwell, right? She's so beautiful."

"And she's also a famous musician, truly a strong woman!"

"I heard Mr. Maxwell and his wife never had a wedding. He recently proposed to her again, and they're flying to Grandshire soon for their wedding."

I could hear their voices all around me, and every word hit me like a slap in the face.

I had repeatedly asked Franco to take me to events like this, to meet his friends, and to show the world we were a couple. But he always refused.

"It's our life. What's the point of showing off our love to others? Don't you know that the more you flaunt it, the quicker it fades? Stop being so vain, Suzy."

So, all this time, he didn't dislike bringing a partner to events. He just didn't want to bring me. The difference between love and indifference was huge, and I finally saw it so clearly.

Then Ingrid saw me and called out, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Suzy, what are you doing here?"

Franco turned to look at me. His face, once warm and gentle, now froze into something cold and distant.

"Suzy, are you stalking me?" Franco sneered. "You really can't change, can you? I told you before that nothing is going on between Ingrid and me. She's my sister. Why can't you let us go after the divorce?"

I wanted to say something, but before I could even open my mouth, Ingrid stepped in front of me, grabbing my hand and looking up at me with her best-injured expression.

"Suzy, you don't lack food or clothing at home," Ingrid castigated. "Why are you working as a cleaner? Are you trying to make people think you're being mistreated, living a hard life, while letting us live comfortably?"

Her voice was full of grievance, and the guests around us started to whisper. I suddenly became the focus of everyone's attention, and for the first time in my life, I felt embarrassed and exposed.

Ingrid didn't stop there.

Twisting the narrative, she continued, "Suzy, don't treat yourself like this. Come back home with me. If you're upset, take it out on me. Don't ruin your health, okay?"

Her tone was mockingly sweet, but her grip on my arm was firm, digging in and causing me to wince.

I shook her off, not with much force, but enough to send her stumbling backward.

As a result, she collided with a nearby table corner, and blood flowed down her forehead.

"Ingrid!"

Franco rushed over to her, shoving me aside in the process. I wasn't prepared, so I stumbled and fell five steps, twisting my foot at an awkward angle.

But Franco didn't even look at me.

He picked Ingrid up and carried her out like I wasn't even there.

I watched them leave, my lips curling bitterly.

It didn't matter. I was leaving soon, and whether he cared or not, it was all irrelevant.

In six days, I would be gone for good.

Suzy's POV

When I went to the hospital alone to get a cast, I was used to being by myself.

But when the doctor noticed there was no one with me, he asked, his voice almost too curious, "Ma'am, did you come by yourself? Why didn't you bring any family members?"

I was just about to answer him when I overheard two nurses gossiping as they passed by the door.

"Mr. Maxwell really dotes on his wife. He called all the top doctors in the hospital and booked the entire floor to make sure no one disturbed her while she rested."

The other one said, "You should have seen how anxious he was when he brought her to the hospital. It was as if anything happened to her, he'd go with her."

The nurse with her concurred and even added to it. "And their son, daughter, and grandchildren? Even their daughter-in-law and son-in-law stayed right by Mrs. Maxwell's side, not leaving her for a second, just in case anything happened."

Hearing their words, I looked at my phone and felt my heart sink as I saw that there were no messages or calls.

Then, I turned back to the doctor and forced a smile, even though it felt like my heart had broken a little.

"I don't have any family," I said, my voice soft.

The doctor immediately softened, looking at me with sympathy.

But before he could say anything else, the door slammed open and Franco stormed in. His face was tight with worry, but when he saw me, his expression changed, turning into something colder. He grabbed my wrist roughly, pulling me toward him.

"Ingrid's lost too much blood and needs a transfusion. You both have rare blood types, so you're going to donate to her."

I couldn't believe it.

My head spun as he pulled me toward the operating room.

The doctor looked at me, taking in my pale, worn-out face, and then frowned.

"Ma'am, your health is in poor condition. I'm afraid you can't donate blood."

Franco scoffed, his voice cutting through the room. "Ingrid got hurt because of her. She has to take responsibility."

The doctor looked stunned, his eyes wide. "But if we push her to do the transfusion, she could die from this, Mr. Maxwell!"

Franco didn't even flinch. "Then let her die. I don't fucking care!"

Finally, I was pulled into the operating room, my mind dazed as I watched helplessly while the doctor transfused 1000cc of blood from me into Ingrid's body.

The whole time, I felt like a bystander in my own life, just going through the motions, too numb to stop anything.

For the next three days, Franco didn't check on me once.

He stayed glued to Ingrid's side while Andrew, Karla, and the grandchildren visited her in the hospital. They didn't visit me at all because they simply couldn't be bothered.

...

On the fourth day, I was finally discharged, still feeling lightheaded and exhausted.

As I was paying the bill alone, I ran into Franco and Ingrid in the lobby.

Of course, Franco was helping Ingrid walk, cradling her like she was made of glass.

Meanwhile, Andrew, Karla, Dylan, and Marian trailed behind, all doting on Ingrid like she was the queen of the world.

When they saw me, Franco stopped and walked over.

His face was grim, his words colder than I expected.

"We're divorced now. It's not good for you to stay in the house anymore. Pack your things and move out today."

I didn't even hesitate as I said, "Okay."

Franco looked taken aback by how quickly I agreed, as if he had expected more resistance. Maybe he thought I'd make a scene, try to change his mind.

But I was too tired for that and too tired to fight for someone who'd never fought for me.

Right there, I saw the confusion flicker in his eyes, a slight twinge of guilt maybe, but he quickly covered it up.

He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when Ingrid winced, clutching her head.

"Franco, my head hurts so much," she said, her voice trembling.

Without even sparing me a second glance, Franco rushed to her, the rest of the room frozen in concern.

I didn't wait for him.

I spun around and left the hospital immediately, feeling both burdened and oddly free.

When I got home, I started packing my belongings.

I had lived in that house for thirty years, but as I looked around, I realized I didn't have much—just a few clothes and a few memories.

The rest of the house was filled with things for Franco and the kids. They had their needs and wants, and I had given them everything.

As I began sorting through the things I once thought were so important—memories of our kids growing up and small gifts Franco had given me—I discovered a metal box under the bed.

I opened it, and inside, there was a fake rose worth $15 and a pull-tab from a soda can.

I picked up the items, looked at them for a long moment, then went directly to the trash and threw them all away.

I threw away the album, the one I had carefully compiled with all our memories.

When Franco came home, he saw what I was doing.

He frowned, like he couldn't understand what was happening.

"I just asked you to move out. There's no need to throw everything away. After all, we're going to remarry."

I didn't even look up as I replied, "These are old things. They're useless. I threw them away to make room."

Franco looked like he wanted to say something, but before he could, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He pulled it out and glanced at it.

Ingrid's message.

Suddenly, he seemed to remember why he'd come back.

He turned to me, his voice a little softer, though still guarded. "Ingrid's been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. She has only a month to live. Before she dies, she wants to see the snow mountains in Grandshire. The kids and I are planning to take her there."

Franco paused, his eyes flickering with something unreadable, and then added, "We're divorced now, and if I bring you along, people might gossip. Just stay here. After I fix Maxwell Group, I'll take you anywhere you want to go."

I shook my head, my voice low, but firm. "No need."

Franco furrowed his eyebrows, clearly not hearing me correctly. "What did you say?"

I didn't repeat myself. I just smiled, the kind of smile that didn't reach my eyes.

"Nothing," I said softly.

I wanted to tell him that we no longer have a future together and that he didn't need to explain himself.

That there was nothing left to save between us.

But I couldn't bring myself to say it aloud. It didn't matter anymore.

I had already made my peace.