The birthday gift that I've given to my wife, Jasmine Gunner, is discovered inside a kennel by the streets.

Because of this incident, I get made fun of by the entire elite circle in Harborough.

It's Jasmine's birthday once again. Everyone teases me, saying that the gift I've prepared for her must be the most expensive one again.

"As expected of the fashion sense of someone who's struck it rich all of a sudden. He thinks that the more expensive something is, the better it must be."

"I wonder which kennel it will appear in this time."

The scions continue laughing among themselves. But soon, they realize that I've never given Jasmine a single thing for her birthday.

In fact, I never bother showing up even though Jasmine's birthday party is coming to an end soon.

"Henry, where's my birthday gift? Also, you're being very unscrupulous! To think that you've missed out on my birthday the whole day! Do you have any idea how stormy my family looked earlier?"

Jasmine glares at me, her expression dark.

I rake my fingers through my messy hair, finally remembering that today seems to be Jasmine's birthday.

"Sorry, I've completely forgotten about it. I'll have my assistant pick out a gift for you tomorrow to make amends to you."

The swirling emotions in Jasmine's eyes dissolve instantly. She looks at me as though she can't believe what she just heard.

"What did you just say?"

Henry's POV

I knew Jasmine Gunner, my wife, had heard what I said, and I wasn't in the mood to repeat myself. "You can just tell me if there's anything you want. I'll have someone buy it and deliver it to you, Jasmine."

Jasmine gradually furrowed her brow. She then chuckled faintly after a moment's silence. "What are you up to this time, Henry?"

I flashed Jasmine a puzzled look, wondering what had suddenly gotten into her. I then replied calmly, "I'm not pulling anything. Why are you being so strange, Jasmine? Haven't you always been indifferent to the gifts I send you?"

I remembered that the gifts I got her would either end up in the doghouse or would be passed along to others, with her telling them that anything they wanted was up for grabs.

Jasmine seemed to arrive at some conclusion, her tone turning gentler. "You're actually blaming me for that, huh? I swear I'll keep your gift properly this time, then. You should get up and get ready, Henry—everything should be just like it used to be."

I treated her birthday as the highlight of the year in the past. I would ask around, both openly and discreetly, to see if anything had caught her eye lately. I would handle everything thoughtfully, from selecting the gift to delivering it.

I shook my head, my eyes heavy with exhaustion. "I'll pass on that. I've been out hiking all day, so I'm exhausted right now."

Jasmine was taken aback. "You weren't waiting for me at home, even though it's my birthday?"

I smiled faintly and retorted, "You didn't exactly tell me to wait for you either."

In the years since I had followed Jasmine to Harborough, I was well aware that her friends didn't welcome me, yet I always braced myself and joined in on her birthday each year.

She would sometimes throw a second party with her friends later, and since no one invited me, I would simply return home to wait for her.

I would then plead with Jasmine once she returned, "You should try some of the food I prepared for you. I've also prepared a cake for you, too, Jasmine."

Jasmine would take a couple of bites, then set it aside. "Is that enough to satisfy you? Am I allowed to go upstairs and rest now?"

I had once waited for her for so long that I accidentally drifted off to sleep. I later woke up shivering, only to find out that the living room window was still open and that I had been lying on the couch in my pajamas while cold gusts kept sweeping over me.

Jasmine, on the other hand, was already asleep in the bedroom.

I glanced at the cake beside me, left there untouched and forgotten. I picked up a fork, took a bite, and murmured, "It actually tastes pretty good…"

It was such a shame that Jasmine didn't get to try it.

Jasmine still stood there, not budging, which left me feeling a bit helpless.

"You're the one who said that I'd embarrass you if I went, that you don't like the gifts I give you, and that I should stop doing things just to satisfy myself. I'm just doing exactly what you told me to do, Jasmine. Why are you suddenly insisting that I give you a gift now? What exactly do you want from me, Jasmine?"

Jasmine's eyes flashed with that familiar ridicule again as she scoffed. "You think too highly of yourself, Henry—no one is begging for your gifts. It's just that you didn't come running over to wag your tail like a lapdog this time, so I assumed you were cooking up some trouble.

"You'd better do as you say and leave me alone, rather than pleading with me to take your gifts later, Henry."

I smiled faintly and said, "You can rest assured that I won't do that later."

Jasmine didn't return home that night.

It was the following day when I saw the headlines spread across Harborough. "Husband Loses Out Again: Heiress Takes Her Adopted Brother to Party Across Town for Her Birthday."

I noticed that Jasmine was nestled in Patrick Gunner's, her adopted brother's, arms in the paparazzi shots, while everyone around them laughed with familiar, unrestrained intimacy. I changed the channel, my face devoid of expression.

Jasmine, perhaps not yet completely satisfied with her night out, returned home amidst much noise and clamor, bringing a whole entourage with her.

Upon spotting me, one of Jasmine's friends paused briefly before falling into their usual glib manner. "You're here as well, huh, Henry? I'm sorry, but we'll have to trouble you to whip up some food for us."

It was then that someone chimed in, "I'd love to have your minestrone for dinner, Henry, so please make a little extra!"

They said all the right things about it being a lot of work, but when it came down to it, they didn't hesitate to boss me around.

I looked up at them, thinking that the slighting treatment I received from Jasmine's friends was nothing new; it had been going on for years.

That minestrone they mentioned had been something I made for Jasmine, thinking she might need it because she was always out drinking and eating poorly. Jasmine, however, never once drank it—her friends ended up finishing it all.

They talked with their mouths full, saying, "I hope you don't take this personally, Henry; Jasmine didn't want any, so she told us we could have it."

I could only smile to mask my embarrassment, replying that I was just glad they liked it.

I used to try so hard to fit in with Jasmine's family and social circles just to please her, hoping that one day I'd finally win them over, but I no longer cared about that anymore. I merely stood up and said, "You can make it yourselves or get the maid to prepare it if you're hungry. I'm not running a catering service for you."

I wasn't even interested enough to stay and see how they reacted.

It was then that the sound of breaking ceramic shattered the silence, prompting me to instinctively turn around.

Patrick stepped back from the shattered pieces on the floor. "I'm so sorry, Henry. I didn't do it on purpose; I just thought it was beautiful, but it slipped right out of my hands."

I hadn't even had the chance to say anything when Jasmine's friends suddenly broke into a loud argument.

"Patrick didn't do it on purpose, so there is no need to keep looking so displeased, Henry."

"Do you really have to pick a fight with someone younger than you over something this minor, Henry? You're being incredibly petty about this!"

Jasmine took Patrick's hand, checking it over carefully to make sure he wasn't hurt before she finally looked up at me. She then stated coldly, "You don't need to look at him with that usual hostility, Henry. He already apologized to you. You—"

I tilted my head and asked, "Did I say I wouldn't forgive him? Why make it sound like I'm bullying him? It's just like you guys had said—it was just a minor matter. You can just have someone sweep up the shards and throw them out."

That ceramic vase had been one of the few gifts Jasmine had ever given me. It was a one-of-a-kind piece by a master craftsman that I had always admired and Jasmine had spent a long time searching for it through various contacts.

She acted completely nonchalant on the day she handed it to me, saying, "Here—take it and stop bringing it up every day."

I was completely overjoyed, even though she looked completely indifferent. I pulled her into a hug and gently kissed the top of her head, her forehead, and her cheek. "Thank you so much, Jasmine! I love it!"

Jasmine didn't dodge or push me away; she just let out a brief laugh. She was always doing that—throwing me a glimmer of hope right when I was on the verge of giving up. She made me believe that maybe she did have feelings for me, as long as I held on a bit longer.

I used to cherish that ceramic vase. I cleaned it myself every day and kept it where it could be seen at a glance. "It's probably a good thing that it broke; I don't really like it anymore."

Jasmine looked at me, her brow furrowing deeply. She nodded, then suddenly reached out and smashed the matching ceramic vase onto the floor as well.

Patrick yelped in surprise while Jasmine stated flatly, "It works out perfectly if you don't like it anymore—let's dispose of it together."

Those present seemed surprised that I wasn't going tit-for-tat with Patrick for once; after all, just four months earlier, I had confronted him at the airport—even if the media had mocked me afterward as the bitter, cast-off spouse.

Patrick, Jasmine, and I landed in Harborough simultaneously. I was the one going home for the New Year without a wife by my side, while Patrick was the adopted brother who had just returned from a vacation with Jasmine accompanying him.

Throughout our five-year marriage, I spent the first four New Years away from home. Jasmine claimed she had to stay at her family's place to respect their customs and that I was required to do the same.

I insisted that I was going back this year, no matter what. Jasmine didn't even bother looking up from what she was doing. "I need to prioritize my family here, so you'll have to go back alone."

Mom and Dad were thrilled to see me, and the whole family gathered around to ask how I was doing and how my marriage was going. I could only make excuses and say Jasmine was busy whenever she was brought up.

I wanted to call her so that she could at least greet Mom and Dad, but no matter how many times I dialed, the calls went unanswered.

I eventually came across a photo of Patrick at the beach posted online, with the caption, "Thanks for being an amazing photographer, Jasmine!"

I turned around and saw Mom and Dad looking at me from inside with such warmth and expectation, and for the very first time, I felt completely exhausted.

I suddenly got curious at that point. "You claimed you were busy and didn't have time to come home with me, yet you had time to go play photographer for Patrick. Do you two even have a concept of boundaries? You're not biological siblings—and you're a married woman, Jasmine.

"Patrick complains about some ache or illness every few days. He can pull you away with a single phone call, even when we're in the middle of an intimate moment, and he talks to you while you're in the shower. Don't you think this is too much, Jasmine?"

Jasmine's expression hardened. "Patrick is nothing more than a brother to me, Henry. Get your mind out of the gutter! Do you want to be a laughingstock in the media again? Haven't you had enough of making a fool of yourself?"

Patrick, apparently overwhelmed by my accusations, stood to the side with his eyes downcast, his face completely pale.

Jasmine, without any hesitation, clamped down hard on my arm. "You'd better apologize to Patrick this instant, Henry!"

I let out a bitter laugh, tears blurring my vision. "Why should I apologize to the man who wrecked my marriage and tore my family apart, Jasmine?"

Jasmine's grip tightened, as though she meant to flay a layer of skin from me. She then leaned in closer, staring right into my eyes, and asked, emphasizing every word, "What do you mean by tearing your family apart? Get this straight, Henry—if you hadn't married me, someone else would have.

"Patrick and I grew up together; he and I are the family that will never change. You'd better not forget that I told you long ago I don't love you; this marriage was something you begged for yourself."

I first met Jasmine on a snow-capped mountain, where we got caught in a decent-sized blizzard. Jasmine, riding a snowboard, grabbed me by the wrist. "Come with me."

It could have been the psychological reliance that comes with fear, or maybe it was genuine love at first sight—the moment Jasmine looked back at me and told me not to worry, my heart skipped a beat.

I eventually inquired about Jasmine on campus, prompting one of my classmates to wink at me and say, "Oh, that stunning Alurian woman! She's just as popular as you, Henry! You two would look good together!"

I pursued Jasmine for a long time, pouring in time, money, and energy just like all the relationship guides advised. I gave her everything I had to offer.

One day, Jasmine approached me with the news that Patrick, her adopted brother, was terribly sick and that my profile was a compatible match to his.

I looked at her sincere profile and placed my finger right between her furrowed brows. "I'm willing to donate, but I have a single condition—I want to marry you. I want you to try to fall in love with me, Jasmine."

Jasmine extended her hand to give me a pinky promise, and just like that, in a completely informal setting, we sealed the deal on our marriage.

I had expected love to blossom after all our time together, believing that genuine sincerity could conquer any resistance. It turned out that all those years were nothing more than my own one-sided illusion, a completely self-destructive obsession.