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?”

“In the past year since he was born, you’ve been working nonstop. Have you ever actually taken care of your son?” Yessenia’s voice trembled, her eyes red with emotion.

“I know I made mistakes, I pushed you away. But we finally have a family, Jackson. If we run into problems, we should talk, not give up. Can’t we try to make it work?”

I didn’t even look at her. My voice came out cold. “Take your son and leave.”

Yessenia froze. Her face fell and she stared at me in disbelief. “Jackson… he’s your son too. Just ask yourself, how often have you even held him? Changed his diaper? Made him a bottle?

“Yes, you were out working for the first few months, but after that… you stopped trying. Days would go by without a single word from you, without you even glancing at him.”

She took a shaky breath and looked down at the baby in her arms. “Can’t you see how much he wants you? Look at the way he stares at you, he’s waiting for his dad to hold him. He even has your eyes.”

Something stirred in me. I turned, slowly and looked at the child.

Yessenia’s face lit up as she stepped closer, gently holding the baby out to me. “I knew you weren’t that heartless. Whatever we’ve been through… for his sake, we can’t give up that easily. Let’s try again.”

That day, I said nothing, just stared at the boy smiling up at me.

Once upon a time, that smile would’ve melted my heart. But now, my heart was stone.

I had printed several copies of the divorce agreement and without fail, Yessenia tore up every single one.

She refused to sign. For someone so proud, she kept humbling herself, trying to give me a way out.

If I really wanted this divorce, I needed a new strategy.

Three days passed in silence. Then, the moment came.

“Jackson?” Yessenia’s voice called softly through the dark as she tiptoed into the room.

I didn’t respond, just breathed evenly.

She let out a quiet sigh of relief and turned to leave. During the divorce process, Yessenia and I had been sleeping in separate rooms.

After giving birth, she took on most of the childcare, except at night.

The doctor diagnosed her with postpartum depression and insisted she get proper rest. So we hired a confinement nanny and two babysitters.

Every night, after the lights went out, she’d slip into the closet, curl up tightly and sleep there.

That night, I had just shut my eyes when I heard three soft, rhythmic knocks in the darkness.

It felt unreal, like some twisted dream, but I knew it wasn’t.

After waiting a few minutes, I sat up and called the police. “Hello? 911? My wife’s been murdered. Yes, the address is...”

Once I hung up, I called my friends and family one by one, urging them to come as fast as they could.

My father-in-law, mother-in-law and brother-in-law arrived almost instantly.

The moment they heard Yessenia was in danger, panic overtook them. Their eyes were bloodshot and I could tell they wanted to tear me apart. “Where is she? Where did you take Yessenia?”

My mother-in-law’s voice shook. She hadn’t even bothered to grab a coat.

With tears streaming down her face, she turned the whole house upside down. “You bastard! Where’s my daughter? She hasn’t left the house since giving birth! How could she just disappear in the middle of the night?”

My father-in-law glared at me, his expression like stone. “Jackson, if anything happens to my daughter, I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life.”

I was the only one who stayed silent, my face unreadable. “Don’t worry.”

The others, unsure what I meant, continued to flail in panic, searching every corner of the house.

Someone tried calling Yessenia, only for her phone to ring from the bedside table. She was gone, but her phone was still here.

I glanced at my watch. “Not everyone is here yet.”

One by one, the friends and family I had called started to arrive.

Though it was the middle of the night, their curiosity got the better of them. The moment they heard my wife had vanished, they began whispering and gossiping in hushed but excited tones.

Some accused me of putting on a show, pointing fingers to hide my own guilt. Others speculated I’d killed Yessenia for the insurance money.

After all, I had been demanding a divorce just days ago and now she had vanished without a trace. Surely, I must’ve done something to her.

As the tension in the room thickened, I finally let out a cold laugh.

“Yessenia isn’t dead,” I said, rising from my wheelchair. “And she’s not missing either. I said that to make sure every single one of you came tonight.”

I looked around, meeting each of their faces. “As for where she went... I’ll show you. See it with your own eyes.”

With that, I pressed the remote and opened the closet door.