A familiar sense of suffocation rose from deep within me, tightening in my chest and lodging in my throat.

I couldn’t get a word out.

"Mr. Sinclair!"

A soft, melodic voice spoke up beside him.

"I think I can guess what Mrs. Sinclair is worried about."

It was Anne.

Hector didn’t say anything, and his silence meant he wasn’t rejecting the idea.

Anne let out a light, pleasant laugh before continuing smoothly.

"After all, this is a divorce reality show. Mrs. Sinclair has to stand in front of a national audience and say she wants a divorce.

“She loves you, so of course, she’s worried. If this turns into something real, she won’t be able to take it back.

"So really, Mr. Sinclair, this is on you. You didn’t consider her feelings. You handled things too bluntly. It’s understandable that she’s upset."

I froze for a moment.

Setting aside the fact that she was making assumptions about me—flat-out deciding I was throwing a tantrum—she was actually saying Hector was wrong.

She was calling out Hector, a man who was always in control and one step ahead.

I couldn’t help but wonder how he’d react.

For a brief moment, there was silence on the line. Then, his deep voice came through.

"Anne makes a good point. Suzy, I should’ve thought this through better."

A quiet, humorless smile crossed my lips.

Outside, the autumn wind carried the last few leaves from the sycamore tree, letting them drift silently to the ground.

"But beyond being husband and wife, we’re also business partners with intertwined stakes in multiple companies.

“A divorce would be nothing but a lose-lose situation. If you gave it even a little thought, you’d realize your worries are completely unnecessary.

“Suzy, you’ve been with me for five years. I thought by now, you’d have learned to analyze things rationally. You need to take this seriously and learn from Anne."

Anne and I were the same age—twenty-seven this year.

We met Hector in the same year.

The difference was, she came from an academic family, graduated from a prestigious university, quick-witted, eloquent, the perfect blend of intelligence and elegance.

I, on the other hand, was a reality show contestant turned actress, never even finished college, and built my reputation on my looks.

The public had one prevailing opinion of me—stunning, but superficial.

Back then, I actually thought Hector would choose Anne…

Now, he fell silent, waiting, just like always, for me to admit I was wrong and reflect on my mistakes.

He would cut straight through my so-called shallow mindset and immaturity.

I would listen, acknowledge, and either correct myself or strive to do better.

But this time, I said nothing.

Only the background music continued playing, endlessly, without exhaustion.

After a long pause, I asked, "Have you had me on speaker this whole time?"

In four years of marriage, one of the few arguments we ever had was over this.

Once, I called him just to hear his voice, teasing him sweetly, only to hear Anne’s sudden laughter on the other end.

Later, I found out he had me on speaker.

I was humiliated.

Furious, I cried for hours and made him swear never to do it again.

Back then, we were still in love, and he made a promise.

"Suzy."

Hector clearly remembered.

"Anne had a few drinks at a dinner event earlier. I was driving and using the GPS, so—"

"It’s fine, I was just asking."

I let out a casual laugh as my gaze fell on the last page of the contract, tracing the bold, sweeping strokes of his signature—confident, unrestrained, both familiar and strangely distant.

"I’ve signed the contract. I’ll hand it to my agent tomorrow."

Hector was pleased that I didn’t push the issue with Anne.

I obediently accepted his arrangement once again.

"You've always wanted to visit Ashford, haven't you? Once things settle down, I'll find time to take you there."

"We'll see."

I hung up the phone.

…

Hector and I met again two months later at the recording set.

My agent brought me, while Anne came with him.

Two cars approached from different directions, stopping at the same time as the doors opened.

He was in the middle of a meeting with an earpiece on, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, standing slightly to the side, his sharp features accentuated.

Anne wore a navy-blue belted trench coat, her long hair flowing in the wind as she stood quietly beside him.

I tilted my head, observing.

I had to admit, the two of them looked incredibly striking together.

My agent left me behind and walked over with a bright smile.

"Mr. Sinclair!"

"Ms. Lane!"

Anne merely nodded faintly, signaling not to disturb them, without even glancing in my direction.

Over there, the three of them stood together.

Over here, I silently unloaded my luggage.

Though the two cars weren’t far apart, it felt like an entire galaxy lay between them.

I pushed my suitcase inside.

The other two pairs of guests were already seated on the couch.

One couple were singers, while the other were ordinary participants.

I greeted them with a smile.

Through the massive floor-to-ceiling window, I could clearly see Anne bending down, carefully fastening Hector's suit buttons.

Her face was pressed against his lower body, her long hair lifted by the wind, tangled around her waist—a pose so suggestive it invited all sorts of thoughts.

The female participant was straightforward and blunt.

She pursed her lips before openly asking, "Are you getting a divorce because of her?"

I smiled. "No."

The four people in the room clearly didn’t believe me, exchanging subtle looks.

Hector walked in, surrounded by a group of staff members.

When Hector saw me, he came over and sat beside me, his expression faintly displeased.

"Why didn't you wait for me?"

I picked up an orange from the table and peeled it. "I came in first to go through the process so the production team wouldn’t have to wait."

He turned his head slightly, looking at me with a trace of surprise in his eyes.

After all, whenever I was around him, I never missed an opportunity to stake my claim.

"In the first two rounds, you need to be firm in choosing divorce. Only in the final round, when you back out, should the shift happen," he reminded me in a low voice.

I nodded and popped a slice of orange into my mouth.

It was incredibly sweet.

My agent had crafted a storyline:

I wanted a divorce, but he didn’t.

To figure out my reasons and save our marriage, he joined the show.

After arguments and reconciliation, we’d have an honest conversation where I finally revealed that over the years, he had been too focused on work, leaving me feeling neglected.

He would sincerely apologize and promise to prioritize our family in the future.

In the end, with tears in my eyes, I’d admit that I still loved him and decide against the divorce.

A perfect happy ending.

Honestly, it sounded fake.

Seeing me frown, my agent smirked mockingly.

"What, are you planning to make it real?"

I once brought up the idea of changing agents, but Anne opposed it, citing her extensive connections and strong professional expertise.

Hector sided with her, telling me to put work first and not be impulsive.

Naturally, she disliked me.

And, of course, I didn’t like her either.

…

There was no filming on the first day, just pre-show interviews.

In the interview room, the couples made their first choice.

"I want a divorce."

I said the words calmly, facing the camera.

Beside me, Hector frowned.

"You need to show more emotion when you say it. That’s what will get people talking, stir up discussion, and drive the views."

"Otherwise, who’s going to believe you really want to divorce me? They’ll just think you’re acting again.

“Use your head. I can’t guide you every step of the way."

I opened my mouth, wanting to say something, but a deep sense of helplessness pressed down on me.

In the end, I said nothing.

For the past two years, I had been trapped in this feeling, as if there was an invisible net tightly wrapped around me.

I knew I had to break free, yet I could never muster the strength to do it.

When my own energy ran low, I needed something external to push me forward.

The director was a young guy, still untainted by the cynicism of the industry.

He reviewed the footage.

"The emotions came through well. As expected from a seasoned actor."

While Hector was doing his solo interview, I didn’t feel like listening and waited outside instead.

My phone rang.

It was Anne.

I was about to decline the call but hesitated for a moment before answering.

"He’ll be done with his interview soon. Just call him later."

"Mrs. Sinclair, I’m not looking for him. I’m looking for you."

"For me?"

"Yes. Mr. Sinclair has never been away from me for several days in a row, so I have a couple of things to remind you about."

Anne’s tone was soft and polite.

I glanced at the door just as Hector walked out, then put the call on speaker.

"Go ahead, Ms. Lane."

Her elegant voice carried through the hallway.

"First, Mr. Sinclair’s throat inflammation has been acting up. I put his medication in the inner pocket of his black bag. Make sure he doesn’t eat anything cold or spicy—it’ll irritate his throat.

“Second, he sometimes gets migraines at night. You’ll need to massage his temples for ten minutes to relieve it. If you’re not sure how, you can call me anytime.

"Mrs. Sinclair, did you get all that?"

Before I could respond, Hector snatched the phone from my hand and spoke coldly.

"Anne, who told you to call Suzy?"

Silence fell on the other end of the line.

I suddenly found it amusing, and the more I thought about it, the more I actually laughed.

Hector looked at me, his gaze assessing, tinged with confusion.

In the past, I would have thrown a fit—snapping at Anne in anger, crying to Hector, and making sure he knew how hurt I was.

But Anne was always composed, her explanations gentle and elegant, making me look like a complete lunatic.

"She meant well. You’re scaring her with that tone."

I took my phone back from his hand and hung up without hesitation before heading straight to the interview room.

Next was the joint interview.

As I pushed open the door, Hector was still standing by the window in the hallway, unmoving.

Then, out of nowhere, he spoke.

"You don’t mind?"

I turned to look at him.

"Mind what?"

A flicker of frustration crossed his otherwise composed expression.

"Nothing. Go in."

…

The director told us we could answer freely, and the production team would later edit out the usable parts.

"First question—what's the most touching thing your partner has done for you?"

Hector sat back casually, exuding his usual composed and refined public persona.

With a warm smile, he answered, "Marriage is about a lifetime together and mutual support. It’s built on countless small moments rather than a single grand gesture.

“If it relied on just one touching act, the foundation would be fragile and unstable. So, for me, there isn’t one most touching moment—just countless warm ones."

The director frowned slightly, then turned to me.

"What about you, Ms. Suzy? Do you feel the same?"