"Andrea, I forgave you."

But what she didn’t know was—I would only forgive her once.

So when I saw them together today, I knew our marriage had reached its end.

With my thoughts slowly settling, I turned around and headed to the law firm. I drafted the divorce papers myself.

By the time I got home, it was already evening.

Andrea rushed to open the door and pulled me into her arms.

“Peter, where did you go? I called and called, but you wouldn’t answer.”

As she leaned in, I caught a strong whiff of perfume on her body—the exact sandalwood scent I despised.

Without a word, I sidestepped her embrace and replied calmly, “Nothing much. I just stopped by the law office on the way.”

Her brows furrowed. “Next time, just have Eric run that kind of errand. No need for you to bother—”

Before she could finish, I cut her off coldly. “Andrea, let’s get a divorce.”

She looked up at me in disbelief. “What did you say? You want a divorce?!”

“Just over this? I told you, what happened with him was just an accident. Now that he wants to keep the baby, I thought—since you have a low sperm count anyway—we might as well keep it. Once the child is born, we can bring it back for you to raise. And when things settle down, we’ll send him abroad. It’s not too late.”

Hearing her suggest I raise a child that wasn’t mine—one she had with another man—my chest tightened, and my fingers unconsciously clenched around the medical report in my bag.

“I’m not joking. This is the divorce agreement. Take a look,” I intoned coldly.

Andrea’s face instantly turned frosty. “Peter, are you throwing a tantrum? I’ve explained everything. Nothing will change between us. We’re even having a child now—what more do you want?”

“I’m really tired today, Peter. Can you stop making a scene?”

I almost laughed.

She cheated, yet somehow I was the one being unreasonable?

I shook my head and placed the divorce papers in front of her. “This isn’t working.”

“Andrea, you disgust me.”

That sentence lit a fire on her.

“Disgust? Do you know how many men out there would kill for a night with me? And just because of one mistake, you can’t be a little forgiving?”

As she shouted, she tore the divorce agreement to shreds.

“I’m telling you, I’m not agreeing to a divorce. Absolutely not!”

“And look at yourself, Peter—you’re thirty, you’ve got a low sperm count. Who else would even want you besides me?”

“I'll pretend this never happened. And from now on, you’re not allowed to bring it up again!”

With that, she slammed the door and stormed out.

I stayed behind, quietly picking up the torn pieces of paper from the floor.

Just as I finished cleaning up, my phone buzzed.

A message came in with two images of engagement rings.

I glanced at them and replied. [The one on the left.]

Then, I took off the wedding ring I’d worn for seven years and tossed it into the trash.

—

The next morning, I went to the office and handed over my work. I was just about to leave when my assistant, Joseph, ran in, flustered.

“Sir, one of our previous clients insists on seeing you. They’re waiting at the club.”

I followed him there. As the door opened, I froze.

Standing in the center of the room was Andrea, holding a large bouquet of roses.

Surrounding her were all too-familiar faces—even her mother, who had never liked me, was present.

Andrea stepped forward, guilt written all over her face.

“Peter, it was my fault. I panicked yesterday and said the wrong things. Today is our seventh wedding anniversary. Please, forgive me.”

When I didn’t respond, her mother walked over and whispered sharply in my ear, “Enough already. So what if she’s pregnant with someone else’s child? It’s your own fault for being useless. What's more, she already apologized—what more do you want?”

"Peter, a real man knows when to advance and when to retreat," my mother-in-law added.

I gave a bitter smile and was just about to say, “I don’t want anything—I just want a divorce,” when Andrea's eyes caught the bare skin of my ring finger and asked, “Peter, where’s your wedding ring? Did you forget to wear it? Well, It’s okay—I actually got you a new one.”

She started rummaging through her bag, but before she could find it, a man's voice sounded from behind.

“The ring’s with me.”

I turned around, but Andrea reached him first.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t you say you were busy with work today?”

The man gently wrapped his arm around her waist, and replied, “I saw the ring on the nightstand, and thought you might need it today, so I brought it over.”

“Andrea, I’m a little thirsty. Could you get me a glass of water?”

Without hesitation, Andrea hurried off to find a server. On the other hand, the man stepped right up to me.

“Hello, Peter. I’m Harvey.”

I didn’t respond.

Seemingly unbothered, he opened a small ring box in front of me.

I glanced down and smiled wryly. What a coincidence. It was identical to the one he wore on his finger.

“Peter, this is the custom ring Andrea had made for your seventh wedding anniversary.”

Then, he held it out for me to take.

I didn’t reach for it. The next second, the ring dropped to the floor, and Harvey knelt down right in front of me.

“Peter, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have slept with Andrea, even if I was drunk. I swear, it wasn’t intentional.”

“I don’t want anything. I just beg you—please let her keep the baby. I’ll even let you adopt the child as your own if that’s what it takes...”

His eyes were filled with tears, like he was the one suffering some unbearable injustice.

Just then, Andrea returned and saw the scene—Harvey kneeling before me.

The glass in her hand slipped and shattered on the ground.

She rushed to Harvey and gently helped him to his feet. Then she turned to me with a look I had never seen from her before—cold, and guarded.

“Peter, if you’ve got a problem, take it out on me. Why are you making things hard for him?”

The affection in her eyes was unmistakable.

And I realized—even though I had done nothing wrong, in her heart, I had already been convicted.

I was done explaining, so I turned to leave. But before I could get far, her mother stormed up and slapped me hard across the face.

“Useless trash! I thought you were at least sensible. Turns out you’re nothing but a petty, vindictive man—how dare you make him kneel!”

“I’m telling you, that baby—Harvey and Andrea’s child—will definitely be born into the Hayes family. And if anything happens to it, I won’t let you off!”

The sudden force of the slap knocked me backward into a towering pyramid of wine glasses.

In an instant, glass shattered all around me—dozens of sharp shards slashing my skin as they fell.

Andrea froze, instinctively wanting to come help me.

But the moment Harvey clutched his stomach and cried out, “Ah! My stomach... it hurts so much, Andrea, help me, I don’t feel well...”

She hesitated only a moment—then turned away from me, crouched beside Harvey, and helped him up without even a second glance back.

I lay on the floor, bleeding, and dazed, staring up at the giant screen where our wedding photo was still displayed.

Back then, Andrea whispered to me, “Peter, I will marry you. And if I ever make you bleed or cry, I’ll repay it with my life.”

But now—at thirty years old—even as I bled and wept before her, I was nothing more than a stranger in her eyes.

How ironic.

Eventually, I forced myself up, swallowing the pain, and hobbled out to catch a taxi to the hospital.

During the wound dressing, every sting of the alcohol-soaked gauze made my whole body tremble.

Beside me, two nurses were chatting casually.

“Did you hear? Up in the luxury suite on the top floor—Miss Hayes is spoiling that guy like crazy. He just said he was in pain and bam—she had people bring half the city’s luxury brands to the hospital room so he could pick something out.”

"Yeah, of course I know. I was there when the pregnancy was first confirmed. Miss Hayes cried on the spot—they must really be in love."

I looked down at the countless wounds on my body and let out a bitter laugh.

So this... was the difference between love and indifference.

But it didn’t matter anymore. If she no longer love me, I didn’t want her either.

Because the hospital was crowded, by the time my injuries were treated and I made it home, it was already past midnight.

I opened the door—and saw Harvey sitting comfortably on the living room sofa—the one I had personally picked out.

Upon seeing me, he stood up quickly and beamed, "Peter, you're back! Andrea is in the kitchen making bird’s nest soup for me. Want a bowl?"

Before I could answer, Andrea came rushing over.

"Peter, the doctor said I’ve been showing signs of prenatal depression and having trouble sleeping, so I asked him to stay here for a few days to keep me company."

“I promise, once the due date arrives, I’ll take him and leave. You—”

Before she could finish, I pulled out a blank divorce agreement from my pocket and handed it to her.

“You can. But I want your signature first.”

She froze, hesitated for a moment, and was just about to flip it open when Harvey called out behind her, “Andrea, I’m hungry. When will the bird’s nest soup be ready?”

In his words, she signed the papers in a hurry, turned around, and went back to the kitchen.

I stood there in silence, watching her carefully stir the soup with hands I had once done everything to protect.

Seven years of marriage, and this was the first time she'd ever stepped into the kitchen.

"Are you jealous, Peter?" Harvey suddenly asked beside me, his voice laced with smugness.

"Andrea said she'll take care of everything for me and the baby from now on."

I turned to see the provocation in his eyes—the gleam of pride and victory.

It made my stomach turn.

This house, which Andrea once swore would belong to just the two of us, had clearly changed.

Without another word, I turned and headed straight upstairs, determined to pack and leave for good.

But when I reached the bedroom door, I was stunned.

All my personal belongings had been thrown into a messy pile at the door.

And the wedding photo that used to hang on the wall had been ripped to shreds and tossed into the trash.

"Andrea said I could choose any room I wanted," Harvey said from behind me, practically gloating. "This one seemed the biggest, so I picked it. She just threw out the extra stuff."

He paused for a moment, as if savoring my reaction.

"Wait... was this yours and Andrea's wedding room? Oh no, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I’ll move my things out right away...”

If this had been in the past, I would have argued with Andrea on the spot.

But now, I am determined to leave. Who stayed in this room no longer concerned me.

I replied flatly, “No need. You can keep it.”

Then, without another word, I dumped the entire pile of my belongings into the trash in front of him.

I turned to retrieve the photo of my late mother and leave.

But when I opened the drawer, it was empty.

Panicked, I dropped to my knees and began searching the floor.

Harvey stood beside me, looming over me like a victor watching the defeated.

"Looking for this, Peter?" he said.

I looked up—and saw him holding the familiar photo frame.

Just as I was about to stand and take it, he let go.

The frame hit the floor and shattered into pieces.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry—slipped right out of my hand,” he said, feigning guilt.

“I thought that photo looked kind of unlucky, you know? I was afraid it might upset the baby, so I told Andrea. She said I could deal with it however I wanted.”

He crouched slightly, examining the broken frame. “So, who’s the dead person in this photo? Do you know them?”

His tone was innocent, almost curious.

However, I couldn't take it anymore.

I raised my hand, ready to slap him across the face—but before I could make contact, he suddenly threw himself backward and tumbled dramatically down the stairs.

“Ahhh—Andrea! Help me!”

Clutching his stomach, he groaned in pain.

Andrea came running from the kitchen, saw him on the floor, and immediately lost it.

She stormed up the stairs, furious, and with a single kick, knocked me to the ground as she screamed.