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.

In the end, following that day at the airport, the already distant marriage between Jasmine and me seemed to become even more estranged.

The Gunner family had a long-standing tradition of gathering at church for a New Year prayer service.

Patrick had been under the weather for several days, and Jasmine's mother, the deeply traditional Fiona Miller, looked at me and said, "I'm afraid an outsider has brought negative energy into this family and disrupted our peace, so we'll need the priest to perform a cleansing."

Jasmine stood to the side, her expression completely indifferent.

I laughed bitterly. "Are you really just going to stand by and let your family treat me like this, Jasmine?"

Jasmine simply averted her gaze and said, "It's for Patrick's health and for our family's sake—as a gesture to invite good fortune."

It was supposed to be a simple prayer service, but the moment I tried to resist, they overpowered me and dragged me aside, with several people holding me and forcing me to my knees on the stone floor.

They sprinkled holy water over me and began reciting prayers. They then brought out thin rods and struck me repeatedly; the stinging pain spread through my body as their prayers continued uninterrupted.

It wasn't long before thick rods were brought out. I could feel my nose stinging from the urge to cry, but I gritted my teeth and remained completely silent. I knew that no one there cared about my pain; crying would have just made me a laughingstock.

In the end, I was too numb to even feel the pain. I could only feel warm blood slowly trickling down my back.

I had originally planned to talk to Jasmine when returning to Harborough. Mom and Dad had asked why we still didn't have children after so many years, so I wanted to ask her if she had grown to love me at all and if we could have a child together to build our home properly.

I suddenly felt thankful I hadn't asked her yet.

I could still hear Jasmine gently soothing Patrick from outside. Patrick then suggested going home since the prayers were done, which Jasmine promptly agreed to.

Their family came and went in a warm, affectionate display.

In that moment, the wind whipping up the edge of her skirt completely extinguished the flickering flame in my heart.

It turned out that all those years of memories took only a few brief moments to look back on. I withdrew my gaze from Jasmine and the ceramic shards beside her. "Is it all settled now? Can I leave now?"

…

I was jolted awake from a light sleep again. It took me a while to realize what was happening—Jasmine's friends were teasing Patrick about when he'd get married and whether they should set him up with someone.

They didn't expect that it would actually send Patrick over the edge.

Patrick roared in his raspy voice, "I don't want to get married. I don't want to leave Jasmine!"

He then looked at Jasmine and said, "You said you would marry me when you grew up. You're lying to me, Jasmine. I don't want anyone else but you, so let me stay by your side forever, Jasmine…"

Those present looked completely uncomfortable, not knowing how to respond.

I was so amused by the spectacle that I couldn't help but speak up, my voice sounding clear and bright. "I'm fine with that. Why don't you have your sister divorce me and marry you instead? How does that sound?"

Jasmine snapped her head around to look at me, staring for a long time before she seemed to realize something. "I'll hand you the divorce agreement in a short while, so you'd better clear out and make room for Patrick as soon as possible, Henry."

She handed me the divorce agreement ten minutes later. She tapped them and said, "It was drawn up the day I got married—you certainly didn't let it go to waste, Henry."

I suppressed that ill-timed sorrow in the depths of my heart and carefully signed my name on the agreement.

Jasmine leaned on Patrick and walked away, glancing at me with her usual indifference just before leaving. "I hope you hold out longer this time and don't come begging me again, Henry."

I heard that Jasmine's friends had set up a wager, betting on how long it would take for me to go to Jasmine and beg for reconciliation this time. I put it behind me as if I had heard a joke. I left Harborough after waiting for quite some time, and the day I departed was marked by fine weather.

…

Third-Person's POV

Just as Henry's plane took off, Jasmine pushed open her office door. She then turned to Jesse Cobb, her assistant, and said, "I'm going to look for Henry."

She sounded somewhat impatient while asking, "Does he honestly believe that marriage and divorce are like playing house? If he thinks he can just pester me into marrying him again, it's not going to be that easy."

Jesse wavered, her lips twitching as if she wanted to say something. "Mr. Henderson has already left, Ms. Gunner. He handed me these things to give to you before he left. He said they're for your birthday."