After a week of recovery at the hospital, I went to the college with Victoria to handle my resignation paperwork. The college president, Eric Ostell, was still trying to convince me to stay.

He asked, "Bridget, why are you suddenly leaving? Is there something about the job that's bothering you?"

I smiled and shook my head. "I received an invitation for a project overseas, and I've decided to give it a try."

Eric's concerned expression immediately transformed into one of admiration. "So, that's what it is! I knew someone as talented as you would never lack opportunities! Does Professor Barnes know about this big decision?"

I smiled and shook my head again. The time wasn't right to discuss what had happened between Tristan and me, so I didn't want to say a single word about it to anyone else.

Eric seemed to grasp the situation and broke into a wide smile. "You must be planning a surprise for Professor Barnes! You two have such a sweet relationship! Everyone at the college knows he's completely devoted to his wife.

"He always ends his classes promptly at 5:30 pm, saying he needs to rush home to cook dinner for you. Even after five years of marriage, you two still act like newlyweds. It truly makes everyone envious."

My hand froze in mid-air as I gathered my documents. Throughout my pregnancy, I had spent virtually every moment alone in our empty house. Whether it was countless prenatal check-ups or my mid-pregnancy depression, I had endured it all by myself.

For a long time, Tristan had stopped coming home, let alone cooking meals for me. So, if Tristan had been telling everyone he was cooking for his wife, and that wife wasn't me, who could it possibly be?

It wasn't yet time to expose the truth. Hence, I simply smiled and agreed with Eric's comments before finishing packing my things and leaving. I drove Victoria home, but when we arrived at our front door, the passcode I had entered many times before suddenly wouldn't work.

Initially, our home hadn't featured a keypad lock. Five years ago, Tristan and I lived in a rundown apartment that cost just 300 dollars a month to save money for research.

One night, after working late at the research lab, I returned home to find someone had forcibly broken into our apartment. Fortunately, Tristan had arrived in time to call the police, preventing a potential disaster.

After that incident, he had absolutely refused to let me work late at the lab anymore.

In our tiny one-bedroom apartment covered with mold stains, he had held me close and promised that someday he would provide me with a big house protected by the safest keypad lock. Yet now, as our circumstances had improved, the anti-theft lock we had chosen together was being used to keep me out.

Just as I was about to leave, the door opened from the inside. A woman stood in the doorway with lingerie barely hanging on her shoulders, a sheer wrap doing little to hide the red marks on her skin.

She mumbled, "Can't a person get any sleep around here? It's still so early!"

Then, she added, "Oh, it's just you, Mrs. Barnes. Is there something you need? Professor Barnes exhausted himself last night and is still lying in bed. If it's urgent, you can tell me, and I'll pass the message along."

Yasmin spoke while proudly displaying her pregnant belly. She even pulled her shawl down a few inches to reveal intimate marks on her skin, completely embodying the role of the lady of the house.

In the past, this would have driven me insane with anger. However, I simply ignored her provocations and walked straight into the house.

"I'm just here to get my things, then I'll leave," I replied, pushing Victoria's stroller past her into the house.

When I reached what had been my bedroom, I discovered that not a single item of mine remained in sight. The bedside tables and walls were now covered with photos of Tristan and Yasmin.

The pictures documented them watching the Northern Lights in Glaceheim, chasing dolphins in the ocean, and kissing on a mountaintop before sunrise. Tristan had done all the romantic things couples do with her—things he had never done with me.

Instead of feeling hurt, I felt pathetic. During our five years together, I had made the same birthday wish five times. "I hope Tristan can spend more time with me this year."

Tristan had always smiled and promised that he would definitely make time to be with me more the following year. Yet, he broke that promise year after year, and I finally understood the truth.

It wasn't that he didn't have time—he was just busy spending it with his female student.

Countless baby items were neatly arranged throughout the room, clearly purchased by Tristan for Yasmin and her unborn child.

I asked, "Where are the things from my bedroom?"

Yasmin put on an innocent expression and replied, "Mrs. Barnes, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that junk belonged to you. Professor Barnes told me I could do whatever I wanted with the stuff in the house, so I just..."

I let out a cold laugh. "How long has it been since I signed those divorce papers? How is this suddenly your home? I paid for half of this house, and even though Tristan and I are divorced, that doesn't make it yours!"

I ignored Yasmin's hysterical attempts to stop me and headed upstairs to confront Tristan. When Yasmin realized she couldn't stop me, she tore off her lingerie, slapped herself hard across the face in front of me, and then collapsed to the floor in tears.

Tristan quickly heard the commotion upstairs and rushed down without his slippers. He spotted me immediately and roared, "Bridget! What kind of scene are you making now?"

He wore only underwear, his upper body covered with visible scratch marks.

Yasmin sobbed as she explained, "Professor Barnes, Mrs. Barnes came by but was locked out. I rushed to open the door for her without changing my clothes, but when Mrs. Barnes saw the marks on my body, she seemed to get angry. She kept calling me a shameless woman, tore my clothes, and slapped my face..."

Her tears spoke louder than her words. Her damp lashes were fluttering, swift to pry pity from any man.

Tristan shouted, "Bridget, don't you realize Yas is pregnant? You've been pregnant yourself—you know how difficult it is! How dare you hit her? If anything happens to her baby, I'll never forgive you!"

With that, he gently cupped Yasmin's face and blew on her skin like soothing a child's scraped knee. "There, there, Yas. She just can't stand seeing me treat you well! Don't let her upset you!"

I watched the two of them clinging to each other like lovers and could no longer contain myself. "Tristan, look carefully..."

I stepped forward to where Yasmin stood, raised my hand, and delivered a full, deliberate slap across her face. A red handprint quickly formed on her cheek, and I declared, "This is what my slap actually looks like!"

Yasmin stood frozen in shock, momentarily forgetting to fake-cry. But in the next second, the scene before my eyes blurred with motion.

Tristan grabbed my shoulder and threw me onto the living room floor. He pinned me down with his knee and began slapping my face with savage force. He snarled, "Yasmin is my woman! When you slap her face, it's like you're slapping my face!"

I whimpered in pain but couldn't fight back under his weight. Blood began flowing from my nose, yet Tristan showed no signs of letting up.

"You should really look in a mirror and see what you've become! You don't even look like a woman anymore!"

With that, he grabbed a makeup mirror from the living room table and smashed it against my head. In an instant, the mirror shattered, and I caught glimpses of myself in the broken pieces.

Due to pregnancy hormones, my face was puffy and my hair disheveled, giving me an unkempt appearance. Soon, I saw blood streaming from my temple, down my chin, and dripping onto the shattered mirror pieces on the floor.

The entire house fell silent, with only the sound of my blood hitting the broken mirror fragments.