“Jackson, is this all you ever think about?”

Yessenia’s voice cracked, raw with frustration.

“Our son has been with us for a year. How many times have you changed his diaper? Do you even know how often he drinks formula? Do you care at all?”

The room went quiet, then the judgment came, swift and sharp.

“You walk around acting like some respectable man, but you can’t even handle basic fatherhood. Pathetic.”

“He made such a fuss about wanting a son, like he had some kingdom to pass down. Now look, he won’t even lift a finger for his own kid.”

“No wonder Yessenia is depressed. If I had a husband like that, I’d lose the will to live too.”

I raised my head slowly, eyes scanning each of them before letting out a cold laugh. “Say whatever you want. Yessenia, tomorrow morning, we're getting a divorce.”

“So you admit it?” Yestin lunged forward, fist pulled back. “You bastard. You don’t deserve her. I should beat the crap out of you!”

I didn’t move. Just stared at him.

“Stop!” Yessenia’s scream cut through the tension.

She rushed forward, shielding me with her arms. “He was in a car accident not long ago. He can’t fight back. If you hurt him… it would break my heart!”

The fist froze in mid-air.

Then, Yestin's smile turned bleak. "Jackson, did you see how much Yessenia loves you? The moment she saw someone about to hit you, she rushed over without thinking. It was instinct.

"You're in a wheelchair now and still, she never once looked down on you. So what right do you have to complain?

"I'm asking you one last time, are you really sure you want a divorce?"

“Divorce.” I turned to Yessenia, my expression flat.

Tears welled in her eyes as she grabbed my arm and whispered, “Jackson… I know I’ve neglected you this past year. It’s my fault. I’ll make it right. I’ll change, I promise.”

I sneered and shoved her hand away. “Save the act. Just get out of my sight. Divorce is happening, whether you like it or not.”

I turned my wheelchair, ready to leave. Then suddenly, someone dropped to their knees in front of me.

Yessenia, sobbing, shoved her hand into the spokes of my wheelchair. If I rolled forward, she’d be hurt.

I frowned. “Move your hand.”

She shook her head through her tears. “Jackson, I’m begging you. Please, can’t we just talk? Don’t do this here, in front of everyone... My family will worry.”

"You’re upset about me sleeping in the closet every night?" Yessenia cried, her voice trembling with emotion. "Fine, if you don’t like it, I’ll sleep with you! I’ll sleep in your bed from now on, even if I can’t fall asleep..."

After her tearful promise, the crowd around us began pointing and whispering.

"Such a coward."

"He’s making a fuss over something so small. Whoever marries him is doomed."

"Poor Yessenia. Look at what she puts up with. If the kid wasn’t so young, they’d be divorced by now."

To them, I was already the villain. Judging by their eyes, they looked ready to skin me alive.

I sneered. “Then why don’t you tell them, tell everyone, why you’re really sleeping in the closet?”

Yessenia froze. Panic flickered in her eyes, only to disappear a moment later.

My mother-in-law stepped up, scoffing. “Didn’t I explain this already? Yessenia has postpartum depression. That little closet makes her feel safe and calm. She just wants a quiet, enclosed space. And you think that’s something to pick a fight over?”

Yestin finally lost it. “She already said she’d stop sleeping in the closet! She’s trying! What more do you want?”

I didn’t bother to respond to either of them.

Instead, I said coldly, “I want divorce.”

My in-laws, who had stayed quiet until now, stiffened. Just as they were about to speak, a knock came at the door.

Three slow, deliberate knocks. “Anyone home?”

Yestin gave me a sharp look, then rushed to answer it.

Standing there was our next-door neighbor—Connor Xenon. Towering at 6'6", handsome and polite, he held a bag of candy in one hand and a sack of bread in the other.

Sensing the tension in the room, he paused, then stepped inside carefully.

“Uh, my wife just found out she’s pregnant,” he said, offering a small smile. “We ended up with way too much candy and bread, so I thought I’d share some with the neighbors. Y’know, spread a little happiness.”

As he spoke, Connor’s gaze finally landed on Yessenia.

She lowered her head in silence. I wasn’t sure if it was just my imagination, but a faint blush crept across her face.

Too bad no one else seemed to notice.

My father-in-law and mother-in-law’s expressions softened a little as they accepted the candy and bread from him.

“Thank you so much! Not many neighbors would think of us like this,” they said gratefully.

But Connor made no move to leave. He glanced around, then cautiously asked, “Did you guys have a fight?”

“Divorce!” Yestin snapped, shooting a glare at me.

Connor flinched. “Ouch!”

Then he quickly walked over to try and mediate. “Come on, buddy, couples should try to understand each other. You can’t just get divorced over a disagreement.”

He gave me an earnest look. “My wife’s only a few months pregnant and she’s already in so much pain she can’t sleep at night. I’m up all night too, massaging her back just so she can rest. But that’s what a man’s supposed to do because he loves his wife.”

Everyone turned to Connor with admiration.

“That’s a real man. He knows how to take care of his wife,” someone murmured.

My mother-in-law snorted coldly. “I wish my son-in-law was like that. Too bad he’s just a petty man.”

Tears welled in Yessenia’s eyes as she took another step toward me. “Jackson, I’m not asking you to be some perfect husband like the neighbor. I just want peace. Our son is nearly a year old. Do you really want him growing up without a father?”

I shoved her hand away, sneering. “Don’t touch me. Since when is your son going to be without a father?”

I looked her dead in the eye. “Go ahead, divorce me. You can take him to whoever actually made him.”

Her breath caught. For a moment, she just stood there, silent and stunned.

Then her family lost it.

“Jackson, you monster! How dare you say that now?”

“You don’t deserve to be called a man!”

Yestin’s expression turned murderous. He charged over, grabbed my collar and yanked me up from the wheelchair.

“Break one leg and suddenly you think you’re safe?” he hissed. “Keep talking like that and I swear I’ll break the other one too!”

I didn’t flinch. “Do it. Nothing changes. I’m still getting that divorce.”

Yestin, unable to hold back his anger, punched me hard. Then he grabbed a stick nearby, gritting his teeth as he threatened, “I’ll break your other leg too.”

I scoffed, “Go ahead. Beat me to death if you want. As long as I’m still breathing, I’m divorcing Yessenia!”

Everyone thought I’d lost my mind, but I was set on leaving.

Yessenia, seeing my face swollen and blood dripping from the corner of my mouth, rushed forward in distress to shield me.

“Stop it! Jackson must be going through something. Give him a few days to calm down, please. Maybe we can talk things through. Maybe we won’t get divorced.”

The crowd shook their heads and pointed fingers, calling me a fool.

They said I must be possessed by something evil, throwing away a decent life for no reason.

I just let out a cold laugh and shut my eyes.

Later that day, Yestin posted a short video of me online.

[Look at this cruel man,] the caption read. [He didn’t lift a finger during childbirth, pushed my sister into postpartum depression and now wants a divorce just because they sleep in separate beds. What kind of woman deserves a husband like this? I feel so sorry for my sister.]

Following his lead, the internet exploded into a wave of hate.

They called me the ultimate scumbag; a freeloader who sponged off his wife, only to dump her right after childbirth. A man who thought with nothing but what's between his legs.

They even turned my face into memes, cursing me like I had personally wronged them.

I didn’t bother responding. I just shut off my phone, locked myself in the study and kept working.

“I saw what they’re saying online. It’s vicious,” said my junior, Rachel Sheffield, dropping off some paperwork. “Are you really going through with the divorce? You're still stuck in that wheelchair. Without help, even getting to court won’t be easy.”

I let out a faint sneer. “Isn’t that what Yessenia’s been waiting for?”

Two months ago, I left the house to get her breakfast. On the way, a drunk driver hit me.

I didn’t die, but I broke my leg. Since then, I’ve been in a wheelchair, barely able to move on my own.

Yessenia had to take care of the kids and me. When it got too much, she hired a nanny. But later, I found out the accident wasn’t an accident at all. Someone had planned it.

At first, I refused to believe it.

After all, Yessenia and I had been together for eight years, our love story was practically legendary. From school uniforms to wedding vows, we were the couple everyone admired.

Our wedding photo still hung on the board for outstanding alumni. But the video evidence the private investigator sent me shattered that illusion.

Two months after my leg was broken, I finally understood the truth. The accident hadn’t just taken my mobility, it had turned my life into a cage.

I was stuck in my study, unable to move without help, relying on the nanny for everything.

Only later did I realize the nanny wasn’t hired to take care of me, she was there to keep an eye on me. And Yessenia spent the nights hiding in the closet.

Every time I woke up, the bed was cold.

Ever since that disastrous party, we'd been locked in a cold war. She tried to talk to me a few times, but I shut her out.

Still, every few days, she’d try to soften things, offering me an opening, a hint of vulnerability.

That day, she brought her son over. “Jackson, I just had the nanny give him a bath,” she said softly. “Can you hold him?”