We had known each other for a decade, and Irene had always known my limits.

She had spent years in the business world and always knew how to handle herself around other men. But now, she crossed the line again and again.

If that was how things were, then our relationship was over. The latest project I had been handling was no longer needed either. It was a billion-dollar deal in Eurentia, one that could decide the company's fate.

…

When I woke up the next morning, Irene hadn't sent a single message, nor had she called.

I wasn't angry either. After the checkup came back fine, I went straight home. It was a five-thousand-square-foot luxury villa that Irene and I had fully paid for last year.

Seven years ago, when we graduated, we squeezed into a basement and shared a single bowl of instant oatmeal.

Five years ago, when we got our marriage certificate, we grabbed some cheap street food from a small vendor and then went home with a tiny four-inch cake.

And now, I could only tend to my wounds by myself in the empty villa.

I assumed I would get used to it eventually.

Just as I was going over the divorce agreement the lawyer had sent me, Irene came home. A strong whiff of men's cologne followed her through the door. The scent made me pause for a moment.

Irene's skin was delicate and sensitive, and she was allergic to many cosmetics. What she hated most of all was perfume.

Because of that, I never used anything scented during all the years we were together. Even my shampoo was carefully chosen. Now, it seemed that she was only being strict with me.

Irene saw me lying on the couch with a tablet in my hands and hesitated slightly. "Steve was too happy at the celebration dinner last night. He got drunk and fell, so I took him home first.

"Later, it got too late, and the drive was long, so I just found a nearby hotel to stay at. That's why I didn't come to the hospital to pick you up," she said.

I nodded and canceled another partnership deal on my tablet. "Alright, got it," I replied casually.

Irene opened her mouth but seemed momentarily at a loss. It was as if my reaction wasn't what she had expected.

She hesitated for a while, took two steps closer, and lowered her gaze as she said, "Today's Saturday, so don't worry about work anymore. I'm planning to take Steve to Parille for a trip. Do you want to come along?"

On my birthday seven years ago, Irene and I took a five-dollar photo together at a night market. Looking at the flimsy backdrop of the Parille Tower, she swore that once we had money, she would take me to Parille and recreate the exact same photo under the real Parille Tower.

As the years went by, our house got bigger, and the business became increasingly successful. Yet she grew busier, often trying to soothe me with excuses.

She would say, "Jay, this is a critical period for the company's growth. As the leader of the company, how can I just take leave and go abroad whenever I want? You've always been the sensible one. You can understand me, can't you?"

I understood, so I stopped bringing up Parille and threw myself wholeheartedly into the company's work, contributing to her career. But it turned out that if it was Steven, she suddenly had time.

I opened the next client's email and said in the same tone, "A group of three feels too crowded. I'm not interested."

After hearing my words, Irene somehow seemed to let out a sigh of relief before continuing, "Fine. I'll just grab something and head out. Have lunch on your own, and we'll eat dinner together tonight.

"This partnership is crucial for the company's expansion into overseas markets. I've invited the media for a press conference next Monday. Haven't you always wanted to stand by my side openly? Next Monday is your chance, so get ready—"

After Irene finished speaking, she paused and looked at me seriously. "Don't worry. This time I'll introduce you properly, and I won't let Steve interfere."

I looked up at her with a calm glance. I knew very well that this was her way of making up for what happened the night before.

But that was fine. The cancellation of the deal in Eurentia would take a few days to process anyway. Announcing it on the day of the press conference would work perfectly.

…

In the evening, I went to the restaurant early, just as I always did. After seven years together, it had become almost a habit.

While I was waiting, I received a call from overseas. It was Ashley Walker, my opponent in the last negotiation, and also my senior.

Ashley's voice was warm as she said with a smile, "Jay, have you thought about my offer for you to join DM Group? Johnson Corporation is still too small and doesn't deserve someone of your caliber."

This was her third attempt to recruit me.

The first time was seven years earlier, when I turned down a high-paying offer from a foreign company to join Irene's small company, earning just two thousand dollars a month. On top of that, I had to contribute one thousand dollars toward the rent for the place I shared with her.

Ashley was frustrated that I didn't live up to her expectations. She lectured me until her throat was dry, but I remained unmoved.

The second time was at the negotiation table from a few days ago. As my opponent, Ashley was completely overwhelmed by me.

After it ended, she looked both impressed and wary. "Jay, I heard that you're only making five thousand dollars a month at Johnson Corporation. Come work with me instead. Don't let your talent be buried by someone who doesn't recognize your worth."

I turned her down with a smile.

How could it be buried? That was my wife's company, the one she and I had built together over seven years.

The third attempt was now.

I paused for only three seconds, ordered a bottle of red wine, and agreed without hesitation. "Send me the address. I'll start next Tuesday."

Ashley on the other end froze for two seconds before bursting into loud laughter. She was afraid that I might change my mind, so she quickly gave her approval and hung up.

I chuckled and was about to put my phone down when Irene's messages popped up. "Plans have changed. Steve couldn't wait, so I took him on the plane first. Have dinner on your own."

She added, "Wait for me. When I get back, I have a surprise for you."

Steven also posted a new photo tagging me directly. The caption read, "Thanks to Irie for making my dream come true. As payback, I'm treating you to a fancy dinner tomorrow."

The photo showed Steven holding Irene's hand beneath the Parille Tower. It was exactly the same as the picture Irene and I took seven years ago.

I stared blankly at the photo for two seconds, then closed it and decisively opened Ashley's chat. "I'll bring you a gift when I start. Do you want the billion-dollar deal in Eurentia?"

My phone was quiet for a moment, then started vibrating like crazy.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Ashley replied.

She continued, "Jay, you are far too good to me. Yesterday was your birthday, right? The gift I got you should have arrived by now. Don't forget to pick it up."

I froze for a second, then a faint laugh slipped from my throat and grew louder.

Right. Yesterday was my birthday.

When Irene watched me drink that mango juice, did she remember that it was my birthday?

When she put a bandage on Steven and left me alone in the hospital, did she even think about giving a birthday gift to her husband of five years?

She probably didn't, but it no longer mattered. We were getting divorced anyway.

Who would want a gift from a soon-to-be ex-wife?

After finishing the meal, I didn't rest. I threw myself entirely into the Eurentia project.

After all, the project was a gift for my new employer, so I couldn't afford any mistakes. I buried myself in work at the office, working nonstop through the nights.

My coworkers noticed and started whispering among themselves in the group chat that I was not in.

"See, I told you so. Mr. White only makes five thousand dollars a month. He relies on Ms. Johnson for everything. How did he even have the nerve to throw a fit?"

"The company is doing so well now. If it weren't for his connection with Ms. Johnson, we wouldn't even need him here."

"I heard that back when Ms. Johnson was starting the company, he was the one holding her back. Otherwise, the company would have gone public years ago."

Steven screenshotted every one of those messages and sent them to me privately.

He pretended to comfort me. "Jason, I know that marrying someone as capable and sharp as Irie must make you feel insecure. But I have to tell you, a man who only knows how to work can't attract women. They still prefer men like me—young, handsome, and in good shape."

I laughed as I listened to his pretentious voice. "Alright then. I'll have HR fire you tomorrow, so you won't have to worry about failing to attract women."

After that, I blocked him and stopped responding.

…

Ten minutes later, Irene called, clearly ready to give me a piece of her mind.

Her voice was fierce. "Jason, what did Steve do to upset you this time? It took me so much effort to coax him into coming to Parille for a trip so he could forgive your rudeness at the celebration dinner, yet now you've made him upset again. Can't you go a single day without causing trouble?"

Forgive? Who? Me?

I found it amusing. As I printed out the drafted divorce agreement, I asked casually, "When are you and Steven coming back? We need to talk about the divorce."

Irene's breath caught on the other end of the line, and I could hear the anger in her voice through the phone. "Jason, are you done yet? There's a limit to how much pouting and jealousy I'll put up with. If you keep being unreasonable, I'm really going to get angry."

I froze for a moment, then couldn't hold back a laugh. I had already printed out the divorce agreement in black and white. Why would I be afraid of her getting angry now?

"I'll sign the divorce agreement and leave it on your desk. Make sure to check it when you get back."

A loud crash echoed through the phone. Irene kicked a chair across the room, gritting her teeth as she snapped, "Fine. Don't you regret this!"

She hung up on me. I shrugged and signed the divorce agreement.

…

The next morning, the moment I woke up and unlocked my phone, I saw the messages from Irene. She looked like she hadn't slept all night.

At 4:00 am, she even posted a public update on social media. In the photo, Irene and Steven stood before the hotel's floor-to-ceiling windows, their fingers tightly interlaced. The caption read, "Through seven years of ups and downs, I'm glad that I've had you by my side."

Tens of thousands of comments piled up beneath the post, most speculating about their relationship.

One of the comments read, "It's finally official! Is this the husband Ms. Johnson's been hiding for years?"

Irene didn't respond, but she pinned a shushing-face emoji at the top of the comment section.

Then she posted an announcement in the company's main group chat. "With immediate effect, Steven Carter will take over Jason White's manager position. The Eurentia project will be reassigned to Mr. Carter, and he will attend tonight's launch in Mr. White's place."

She knew that I had been working around the clock for 39 days abroad just for this deal. She also knew that to secure this partnership, I spent my days organizing materials and my nights networking, drinking until I felt like I was going to throw up.