I begged my husband ninety-nine times to go with me to Jay Boone's concert.

On the hundredth time, he finally bought two front-row tickets.

Dressed to the nines, I was stopped at the entrance by security because I couldn't produce my ticket.

By the time the concert ended, I still hadn't been able to get through to him on the phone.

News broke that my husband and his young girlfriend were at the concert, requesting "Sunny Day" from Jay Boone. The story shot straight to the trending charts.

There's no rain in the lyrics of "Sunny Day."

Because the only world caught in a torrential downpour was mine.

The news about Lewis Sheeran and Anne Cohen was blowing up online—he even shared it himself on his social media.

His caption was framed as an apology: [This girl was being immature and insisted on going to a concert. I never thought it would make the news. I've seen everyone's messages—sorry for causing a stir.]

Five years of marriage, and I was never once important enough to show up on his social media. Now, he just hands that spotlight to another woman without a second thought.

I begged him ninety-nine times to take me to that concert. He said no every time. Someone else got it on the first try.

Numb, I turned off my phone screen and stayed by the roadside, waiting for a ride.

On the night of the concert, the whole city was at a standstill. I stood alone outside the venue forever and couldn't catch a cab.

My phone rang. It was Lewis.

His voice was cold. "Why aren't you home yet?"

I stayed quiet.

In the past, I would've automatically softened, played cute. But tonight, I didn't know what to say to him.

Lewis got impatient. "Janice, did you lose your voice?"

"I'm at the concert venue."

He went silent—like he'd finally remembered he'd promised to come with me.

I just never expected he'd bought the tickets… only to use them to take Anne.

"Wait for me in the parking lot. I'll come get you."

I didn't really believe him, but I didn't want to keep waiting for a cab either, because it started pouring. A full-on storm. The whole city lost power.

I took shelter in the parking lot, looking like a mess, using nothing but my phone screen to see.

The battery lasted two hours tops.

Before it died, Lewis still hadn't texted back.

Instead, I saw Anne's post: [The whole city's a wreck from the storm, but I'm grateful he still drives me home. My sunshine.]

The picture showed Lewis's profile, one hand on the steering wheel.

I smiled faintly, a strange sense of relief washing over me.

Fine.

I waited at the concert entrance until everyone was gone—he stayed with Anne.

I waited in the parking lot all night—he never showed.

I waited five years in this marriage for him to change.

This time, I wouldn't wait anymore.

…

I walked to the nearest hotel and passed out as soon as I hit the bed.

The next morning, I went straight from the hotel to the law firm. I was still a little late.

The firm was a big name. Lewis founded it. I was just one of the lawyers.

As soon as I sat down, Rosie Eilish, the lawyer at the next desk, looked at me impressed. "Today's the all-hands meeting with the big boss and you still dared to be late and skip it."

I just smiled.

Lewis never waited for me—let alone for some meeting.

It was always me waiting for him. Every time.

The morning was light on work. Once I finished up, I opened my laptop and started drafting divorce papers.

Lewis showed up out of nowhere.

"You don't act like a wife should. Always making trouble, even staying out all night—what point are you trying to prove?"

I nodded, kept typing, and answered offhandedly, "Don't worry. It won't happen again."

There shouldn't be a next time. Once we were divorced, we'd each go our own way.

Lewis paused, looking like he wanted to snap back, but held himself in check.

"Let's have dinner tonight."

He hesitated, glanced at my screen, then asked, "Since when do you take divorce cases?"

I gave a slight smile.

"Since I'd never asked where you were last night, you shouldn't ask me anything either."

Lewis studied me for a long moment, then said nothing more.

Near the end of the workday, my phone buzzed with a message from Lewis—a reservation confirmation from an upscale restaurant.

I knew what it was meant to be: his version of compensation.

I gathered the divorce agreement fresh from the printer, slipped it into my bag, and prepared to keep the appointment.

As I left the office building, I ran straight into Anne.

As Lewis's widely known young girlfriend, Anne was indeed beautiful.

Right in front of me, she got into Lewis's car.

He drove off. Not long after, he sent me a message telling me to wait for him at the law firm.

I didn't wait. I went to the restaurant on my own.

Once seated, I ordered plenty of food and wine. This place's steak was my favorite. I ate both portions myself.

I used to wait until he arrived before touching the food. Over time, missing meals and eating irregularly became a habit.

In the end, Lewis never showed up.

I wasn't angry. I'd waited five years, and there was still no place for me in his heart. As long as he signed the divorce agreement, waiting one more night didn't matter.

What he didn't know was that the divorce agreement he saw—was written for him and me.

…

After dinner, I wandered around for a long while. By the time I got home, it was already very late.

The living room lights were on. Lewis was actually waiting for me.

I say actually because in our five years of marriage, he usually didn't come home until well past midnight. And I was always the one who canceled all social plans and outings with friends to wait at home for him.

I worried he'd drink too much with no one to take care of him. I worried he'd work too late and skip dinner. So I always kept hangover medicine ready, along with some hot food.

Lewis hated this about me. He said I was like an old nanny.

I shook my head, pulling myself out of the memories.

His gaze was cold, his voice even colder. "Janice, you almost stayed out all night again."

I answered with a simple "Oh."

In this house, staying out all night seemed to be his exclusive privilege.

Once we got divorced, I would have that privilege, too.

Lewis narrowed his eyes, clearly surprised by my reaction.

"Do you know what day it is today?"

I froze for a moment, my hand instinctively reaching into my bag. Inside was the gift I'd prepared for him earlier.

Today was our fifth wedding anniversary. In past years, I'd always gone to great lengths for it.

I didn't take out the gift. We were on the verge of divorce anyway. Going through hollow rituals like this felt unnecessary.

Irritation flickered in Lewis's eyes as he handed me a gift box.

"I prepared this for you. Open it."

I wasn't particularly surprised. After canceling on me so many times, he owed me some form of compensation.

That was Lewis. Whenever he did something wrong, he'd offer a bit of sweetness afterward.

And I would always wait anxiously, hoping the compensation would be a little more—hoping he'd stay with me a little longer.

I took the gift box and casually tossed it onto the sofa.

"That's very kind of you," I replied politely.

His gaze sharpened, as if my politeness was completely beyond his understanding.

"I didn't make it to dinner tonight because Anne had something urgent—"

I cut him off. "It's fine. No need to explain. I understand."

I truly meant it.

But Lewis seemed irritated instead.

"Stop being jealous all the time. Anne's family lawsuit is my case—I have to see it through."

I lowered my head, rummaging through my bag for the divorce agreement, and spoke without pausing, "Taking a case all the way to a concert—you really are thorough with your investigations."

His sharp brows twitched, and his entire face darkened.

It was something he couldn't explain. So all he could do was stare at me in silence, his expression stormy.

If this were the past, I would've likely been frightened by that look—anxious, second-guessing myself, then breaking down in tears and apologizing.

Yes. As long as he wore that expression, the one at fault could only ever be me.

But now, I simply kept my head down, searching for the divorce agreement.

I never found it. Most likely, I'd left it at the restaurant.

"What are you looking for now?"

Lewis shifted closer to me.

I murmured a noncommittal sound and didn't explain further. I didn't like him standing so close.

I didn't go to the master bedroom. I slept in the guest room instead. That night, I slept exceptionally well.

…

Given how often I'd been running into Lewis these past two days, I wanted to revise the divorce agreement.

I was sitting at my desk, lost in thought, when Lewis called and asked me to bring a few documents to his office.

I thought about it and decided not to bring up the divorce. After all, Lewis hated discussing personal matters in his office—especially with me.

I hadn't expected to run into Anne.

The girl was a client's daughter and a fairly well-known livestreamer. She was sitting at Lewis's desk, applying makeup while looking into a mirror.

"Hi, Janice."

There was a hint of provocation in the way Anne looked at me.

I gave her a gentle smile.

A bitch and a scumbag—she and Lewis were a perfect match.

I set the documents down and was about to leave when Lewis stopped me.

"Janice, get my medicine for me."

I glanced at Anne and immediately understood.

Lewis had grown up in an influential family and was physically delicate. He was allergic to many things… including certain cosmetics.

After we married, I wore only light makeup. Even when I occasionally bought something new, he would scold me harshly, "Do you even care about your husband?"

Over time, I stopped carrying cosmetics altogether and carried only Lewis's allergy medication. It became a habit.

As for my looks, my natural features were actually quite good. I just hadn't worn makeup for years.

"I didn't bring it."

I said the words, but my eyes were fixed on Anne's makeup.

Not because I wanted to copy her. But because those products could trigger Lewis's allergies.

After the divorce, I should be able to use them freely.

A flicker of agitation crossed Lewis's eyes, disbelief evident.

"How could you not bring it? You know about my condition—"

Anne cut in with a coy tone, adding fuel to the fire.

"Janice, that's not right. How can you not care about Lewis's health?"

Lewis fell silent. Maybe he realized there wasn't much he could say to criticize me. After all, I'd only forgotten the medicine. The thing making him allergic wasn't me.

"I'll take you home to get it," he said.

The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis looked awkward. He was the one who needed the medicine. Sending me home with him was unnecessary.

"You go back on your own. I have a lunch appointment."

I really did have one.

Rosie from the neighboring desk was the firm's best divorce lawyer—second only to Lewis himself.

If I was going to revise the divorce agreement, I needed some advice.

I certainly couldn't ask Lewis to help me revise my own divorce agreement!

…

I met Rosie at a restaurant next to the office.

As we ate, I asked her about specific clauses in the agreement.

"So you really want a divorce?" Rosie looked at me with a trace of pity.

She didn't know about my relationship with Lewis. In fact, no one at the firm did. After all, Lewis hated having personal matters brought into the workplace.

"Yes. My husband cheated. But it's fine—I want a divorce too."

As I spoke, I saw Lewis and Anne walk in, hand in hand.

When Lewis noticed me, he instinctively let go of Anne's hand.

I offered them a polite smile.

Then I waved over a server and asked to move our table with Rosie to the sunlit seating area outside.