On the night of my wedding, my best friend's younger brother wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked me, “It’s a little big. Can you handle it?”

I stared at his perfectly defined abs, my mind going completely blank. “What?”

He repeated, “Can you handle it?”

My voice jumped an octave from my panic. “Aren't we supposed to take things slow? Isn’t this way too fast?”

That night, the sound-activated lights in the house flickered on and off until dawn.

Meanwhile, my ex-husband was squatting downstairs. His eyes were swollen red from crying, but I did not even spare him a thought.

Back then, when I agreed to let him proceed with a fake wedding with his childhood sweetheart, Miles Carter thought our cold war was over.

When he explained things to me, he said, “Vivian and I will only be married on paper. The ceremony is just to satisfy my mom. I swear, when this is over, we’ll live as a real couple.”

I remained silent. I just stared at the countdown on my phone, counting the days until I could finally leave. He did not know that the moment he tricked me into signing the divorce papers, our marriage had already ceased to exist.

After Miles Carter’s mother became bedridden and tore up their marriage certificate for the ninth time this year, Wendy Yanes felt utterly exhausted.

She looked down at the torn certificate in her hands. It was stained with the soup Belinda Howard had thrown earlier.

Every time Belinda lost her temper, their marriage certificate seemed to be the first she reached out for.

“What are you staring at?” Belinda leaned against the hospital bed. Her voice was sharp. “If it weren’t for you, would I even be lying here in this damn bed?”

Wendy quietly picked up the pieces from the floor. Her fingers were cut by the sharp edges of the paper.

She kept silent, merely brushing the soup stains from her white dress.

“Stop playing the victim!” Belinda grabbed the water cup from the bedside, ready to throw it. “Get out! Just seeing you annoys me!”

The cup whizzed past Wendy’s ear and smashed against the wall, shattering into pieces.

She slowly stepped out of the room, gently closed the door behind her, and leaned against the corridor wall, taking a deep breath.

The smell of disinfectant stung her nose, bringing back memories of countless nights spent in hospitals over the past two years.

She pulled out her phone and sent a message to Miles: [Honey, how about hiring a caregiver for Mother? She’s acting up again today…]

The message was marked as read, but no reply came.

Wendy stared at the screen for ten minutes before locking her phone’s screen. She decided to go to the civil affairs office to replace the torn marriage certificate.

The office was not crowded. Wendy handed the damaged certificate to the clerk, who examined it, checked the system, and frowned.

“Ms. Yanes, there are still seven days before your divorce is finalized. We can’t reissue your marriage certificate.”

“What divorce?” Wendy thought she had misheard.

The clerk turned the screen toward her. “The system shows your husband filed for divorce. It's currently being processed."

Wendy's fingers gripped the edge of the counter so tightly that her knuckles went white.

She suddenly remembered the papers Miles had handed her to sign a couple of weeks ago. He had said it was the hospital bill, and in her rush to care for Belinda, she did not even look before signing.

The clerk gave her a sympathetic look. “Do you want to cancel the divorce application?”

People in line behind her began whispering to each other, “Isn’t that the Carter family’s daughter-in-law? I heard she clings to Mr. Carter."

“Yeah, if it weren’t for her, his mother’s leg would still be treatable.”

Wendy lowered her gaze to the ring on her finger. Her heart was stabbing with pain.

“It’s okay. I can get the divorce certificate after seven days, right?” asked Wendy in a soft tone.

After receiving a confirming nod, Wendy left the civil affairs office as though she were fleeing. She stepped into the scorching sun but felt chilled to the bone.

She hailed a cab back to the hospital. While she was on her way back, Miles finally replied: [Busy at work, we’ll talk tonight.]

She opened the chat repeatedly, wanting to argue with him, but sent nothing.

The hospital corridor was eerily quiet. She reached her mother-in-law’s room and heard bursts of laughter from inside.

She gently pushed the door open just a crack, frozen at the scene before her.

Belinda was standing by the bed. She stood firmly on her own two feet, holding a fork and eating fruit.

Vivian Lowe sat nearby, peeling an apple, while Miles, the person who had claimed to be busy, was gently massaging Belinda's shoulders.

“That stunt of pretending to be paralyzed is absolutely brilliant,” Belinda said proudly, “That woman would never have guessed I could walk all along.”

“Belinda, please don’t say that,” Vivian replied coquettishly, “It hasn’t been easy for Wendy to take care of you.”

Belinda snorted, “She owes me! If she hadn’t stopped Miles from answering calls, would I have had to lie here in the hospital for so long?”

Wendy’s hands clutched the doorframe as she looked at Miles. His expression was complicated, but he made no attempt to argue with his mother.

“The divorce papers are already signed. Why hasn’t she left yet?” Belinda suddenly asked.

Miles replied in a low voice, “The process is still ongoing, and…”

“And what?” Belinda cut him off sharply, “You’re not still attached, are you? What has Wendy that Vivian doesn’t?”

“Mom!” Miles’s voice shot up. “I have my own considerations regarding the divorce. You just leave it be.”

Belinda waved dismissively. “Fine, fine. Do whatever you want. The marriage is over anyway. If she wants to be a free caregiver, let her.”

Wendy slowly stepped back. Tears blurred her vision.

So she was the last to know about her own divorce.

She turned around and left as laughter continued from the room.

Wendy stood by the window, pulled out her phone and dialed a long-forgotten number.

“Hey, it’s me.” Her voice was unusually calm. “Please help me get out of here. The sooner, the better.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “You’ve really thought this through?”

“Yes.” Wendy watched the sycamore leaves sway gently in the wind outside the window. “It’s been two years. What I owe to that family should finally be settled.”

She hung up, glancing once at Belinda’s room.

The laughter continued, joyful and full of warmth. They were just like a happy family.

Yet Wendy had never truly belonged there.

Wendy did not go back to the hospital. She left and took a cab home.

By the time Miles pushed open the door that evening, Wendy had just finished packing her suitcase.

She did not look up. “Belinda broke three bowls again today. She said I’m not as thoughtful as Vivian.”

Miles loosened his tie. His voice was tinged with impatience. “She’s been bedridden for two years. Of course her temper’s foul. Just give her some space—what’s the big deal?”

“Space?” Wendy suddenly chuckled. She grabbed the dress stained with soup from earlier. “She did that on purpose this morning.”

“Enough!” Miles snatched the dress from her and tossed it onto the bed. “Wendy, you weren’t like this before!”

“Like what?” Wendy sprang to her feet. Her eyes burned with emotion. “Like getting up at five every morning to make breakfast for your mother? Or kneeling on the floor, scrubbing, while she called me a curse?”

Miles swallowed hard, turning his face away. “You know why my mother ended up bedridden.”

The room went silent.

Wendy’s fingers dug into her palms.

That phone call.

Two years ago that evening, barely moments after they had been together in bed, Miles’ mother called.

“Don’t answer it.” Wendy stood barefoot on the carpet, arms wrapped around his waist. “It’s our wedding anniversary tonight…”

Miles hesitated for a moment, then leaned down and kissed her. “Just for a minute.”

“You always say that!” snapped Wendy, grabbing the phone and throwing it to the floor. “How many times has she pretended to be sick? If you answer this call tonight, we’re done!”

She remembered the look in his eyes then. There was shock, helplessness, and finally, compromise.

He let out a sigh, picked up the phone, set it aside, and held her in his arms. “Okay. I won’t answer.”

However, the next day, they found out that Belinda had a sudden cerebral hemorrhage that night. No one answered her call, so the treatment was delayed, and she ended up paralyzed.

“Yes, I owe her,” Wendy admitted in a hoarse voice. “That’s why I’ve worked myself to the bone for the past two years. Do I deserve to have food thrown on me, and deserve to be treated like a servant by Vivian?”

Miles ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Vivian’s moving in tomorrow.”

“What?”

“My mom likes her.” Miles' tone softened, like he was coaxing a child. “Just for a few months, until her condition stabilizes, then Vivian will move out.”

Wendy interrupted in a soft voice, “Miles, I went to the civil affairs office today.”

His body stiffened.

“The staff told me we still have seven days left before our divorce is finalized.” She stared at his frozen expression. “The papers you had me sign a month ago were actually a divorce agreement?”

“So you know!” Miles grabbed her wrist. “But my mother forced me into it. I'm only doing it to keep her happy for now!”

“Without even telling me?” Wendy yanked her hand free. “Seven years together, and I didn’t even have the right to know?”

Miles flew into a rage. “Can you stop being so aggressive? Do you know how hard it is to be stuck in the middle?”

Wendy froze for a moment.

She remembered the first time he had brought her home to meet his family. His mother had thrown soup on her in front of him. “The Carter family’s daughter-in-law will only ever be Vivian.”

That night, Miles held her in his arms on the balcony and apologized. “My mom has a bad temper. Please bear with her. It’s hard for me to be in the middle.”

Later, when Belinda refused to attend the wedding, he held her hand and said, “She just can’t accept it yet. Let’s give her some time.”

When Belinda became paralyzed, he knelt and begged her to quit her job and take care of her. “Wendy, you’re the only one who can help me now.”

Each time, she gave in.

“Miles.” Wendy suddenly felt exhausted. “Do you still love me?”

Miles hesitated for a moment, then blurted out, “Of course I do!”

“Please don’t put me in a difficult position, Wendy.”

Wendy let out a sigh. Only seven days left anyway, she would just let it be.

She nodded silently.

“Vivian will sleep in the guest room,” Miles awkwardly changed the subject, “You should get some rest.”

Once the door was closed, Wendy sank onto the bed.

Moonlight streamed through the curtains, and she noticed the dusty photo frame on the nightstand.

In the photo, Miles was carrying her on the beach. Waves splashed her skirt as he turned and smiled, “Hold on tight, Mrs. Carter!”

Seven years of love were just like a bubble.

She pulled out her phone and sent a message: [Pick me up in seven days, as planned.]

No sooner had she pressed send than a deafening bang echoed from downstairs.

Wendy went downstairs and saw Belinda seated in a wheelchair as Vivian pushed her inside, followed by a whole group of people carrying boxes and luggage.

“Well, look who finally decided to come downstairs.” Belinda lifted her eyelids with a cold smirk. “I thought you were planning to hide in your room for the rest of your life.”

Vivian stood beside her, holding a cup of tea. She said gently, “Belinda has just finished rehab. The doctor said she needs to walk around more.”

“Rehab?” Wendy’s gaze dropped to her legs.

Belinda patted her knees smugly. “Surprised? The doctor says I’m recovering well. Give it a little more time and I’ll be fully healed.”

She pointed upstairs. “Vivian will be living here from today on. It’ll be more convenient for her to take care of me. Whether you agree or not doesn’t matter.”

Wendy said nothing. She put on a faint smile and looked toward Miles.

He pursed his lips and said in a low voice, “Wendy has already agreed.”

Belinda froze for a moment, then let out a snort. “She finally learned to behave.”

Vivian immediately smiled and looped her arm affectionately through his mother’s.

“Belinda, let me help move the luggage upstairs.”

Belinda patted her hand. “Go ahead. Pick whichever room you like.”

Vivian’s eyes lit up. She hurried upstairs, and before long, there was a loud crash from above.

Wendy looked up and saw Vivian directing the house staff to take down the decorative painting in the hallway.

That painting was something she and Miles had chosen together. It was a painting of the ocean from their very first date.

“This painting is way too tacky. It doesn’t match the current décor anymore.” Vivian smiled cheerfully, tossing it aside. Then, she pointed at the photos on the wall. “Take these down too. They’re an eyesore.”

One by one, the photos were removed. One of them was their wedding portrait.

Miles stood at the foot of the stairs. His brows were furrowed as though he wanted to say something. Eventually, he only looked at Wendy. “Let them mess around for now. We can hang them back up later.”

Wendy smiled but said nothing.

Vivian poked her head out from upstairs, speaking in a sweet and soft tone, “Miles, I’d like to have the main bedroom! It’s closer to Belinda’s room, so it’ll be easier to take care of her.”

Belinda immediately nodded. “Yes, yes, that’s very thoughtful of you.”

Miles instinctively looked at Wendy like he was waiting for her to object.

However, Wendy simply nodded calmly. “That’s fine. I’ll move to the guest room.”

She turned around to go upstairs. Miles grabbed her wrist. “Something’s wrong with you.”

Wendy turned back to him. “What’s wrong? Wasn’t this what all of you wanted?”

“But you…” Miles frowned deeply. “You wouldn't have acted like this before.”

“Before?” Wendy let out a soft chuckle. “Isn’t this exactly what you want?”

She shook his hand off and walked straight into the master bedroom, beginning to pack her things.

Miles followed her in and stood by the door, watching as she folded her clothes and placed them into the suitcase, one by one. Finally, he could not help asking,

“What’s going on with you?”

Wendy replied while looking up, “I'm making room for you.”

Miles swallowed hard. In the end, he said nothing.

At seven that evening, Wendy went downstairs for dinner.

In the dining room, Belinda, Vivian, and Miles were already seated. The table was filled with dishes.

Vivian picked up a piece of fish and placed it into Belinda’s bowl. Her eyes curved into happy slits. “Vivian’s the thoughtful one, as always.”

Miles looked up and saw Wendy. He waved to her. “Come on over and eat.”

Wendy walked over and sat down. Her gaze swept across the table and suddenly stopped.

Every dish on the table was something she could not eat.

There was seafood, mangoes, peanuts… Every single one was something she was allergic to.

She lifted her eyes and met Belinda’s smile that did not reach her eyes.

Miles seemed completely unaware. He picked up a shrimp and put it into Vivian’s plate. “Try this. It’s your favorite.”

Vivian gave him a sweet smile. “Thank you, Miles.”

He then ladled a bowl of soup for his mother. When he turned to Wendy and saw she had not touched anything, he frowned. “Stop sulking. You need to eat.”

Wendy was stunned for a moment.

He did not remember.

She had a seafood allergy. Once, just a single accidental bite of shrimp had sent her to the hospital in the middle of the night.

That night, Miles stayed by her bedside the entire time. His eyes were red, and he said, “I’ll make sure to pick out everything you’re allergic to from now on.”

Now, he was serving shrimp to Vivian, soup to his mother, yet he could not remember a single thing she could not eat.

She lowered her eyes, picked up her cutlery, and slowly chewed on some plain greens.

Suddenly, Belinda said, “Miles, Vivian’s been with you for all this time and never asked for a thing. She only wants a wedding. What do you think?”

Miles paused for a moment, instinctively glancing at Wendy.

Vivian immediately replied, sounding aggrieved, “Belinda, don’t make things hard for Miles. I-I’m fine, really.”

Belinda patted her hand. “That won’t do. I can’t let you stay with him with no status to your name.”

The dining table fell silent for a few seconds.

Miles hesitated, then said in a low voice, “I’ll talk it over with Wendy.”

“No need,” Wendy suddenly said.

Everyone looked at her.

She set down her cutlery and said calmly, “That’s fine. Go ahead and have the wedding.”