My Father-in-Law’s 60th Birthday.

At the party, I watched as my wife’s male secretary casually took a cigarette from the box in my father-in-law’s hand—like he owned the moment. Before I could say anything, my wife stepped in and lit it for him, her hands deft and familiar.

The secretary took a long drag, closed his eyes, and exhaled with satisfaction.

"Now this is the good stuff," he said, like it was his celebration.

I turned and walked out.

Vanessa Cole chased after me.

“Daniel, don’t be so childish. It was just a cigarette. What’s your problem?”

She glanced back toward the venue, irritation flashing in her eyes. “You’re ruining my father’s birthday. Can’t you stop making a scene?”

“If you keep acting like this… I might not want you anymore.”

I nodded, calm and cold.

“Alright. Then let’s get a divorce.”

——

I was late to the banquet.

Because earlier that day, Vanessa told me her father wanted fresh yellow peaches—not just any, but ones straight from the orchard. So I drove into the mountains, picked them myself, and hand-selected the best. I wanted to give him a sincere gift.

I would’ve made it back on time. But then, her secretary suddenly decided he didn’t like the hotel’s menu, and Vanessa changed the venue—without telling me until it was almost too late.

When I finally arrived, my father-in-law didn’t even look at me. He turned his head and said in a sarcastic, biting tone,

“Next time you’re this late, don’t bother. Just wait until I’m in my coffin.”

The yellow peaches I picked with my own hands were knocked from my grip and smashed on the ground.

My dignity shattered right alongside them.

Julian Shaw, the secretary, stood nearby watching it all, smug and silent. He was wearing a designer suit—the same exact color and cut as Vanessa’s dress. Custom-made. Matching accessories. Gold thread embroidered in mirrored patterns, like they were a couple.

As I moved to sit next to my wife, her sister, Brittany, blocked my path and shoved me aside.

“That seat’s not for you,” she said coldly, pointing to the children’s table. “Go sit over there.”

I clenched my jaw. “I’m her husband. I should sit by her side.”

Brittany sneered. “That seat belongs to Julian. You don’t deserve it.”

Her voice was sharp, loud, and deliberate—half the guests turned to stare.

Vanessa didn’t even blink. She sat there like a queen, unmoved and unbothered.

Julian chuckled and said with a smirk,

“Sir Daniel, don’t take it personally. President Cole’s just used to having me around.”

He wasn’t wrong. Ever since he joined the company, everything—from business meetings to family dinners—went through him. It used to be me.

Vanessa had planned this long ago. That morning she said she was “thinking about hiring a male secretary.” By noon, he was already working beside her.

I was foolish. I trusted her. And she used that trust to replace me bit by bit.

When I didn’t move, Vanessa looked up and said gently, like nothing was wrong,

“Come on, don’t hold up the schedule. Sit.”

So I sat. At the children’s table.

From nearby, I heard employees whispering:

“Mr. Shaw and President Cole really look good together. Such a perfect match.”

“They’re wearing couple outfits today—so cute.”

“Honestly, they’re like a match made in heaven.”

I don’t even know how many times I’ve heard this nonsense. From the day Julian joined, everyone praised how thoughtful he was, how close they looked.

It was all orchestrated. All of it.

Vanessa didn’t need to say it to my face—she let others say it for her.

Even if I was used to it, my hands still curled into fists.

Do they really think I’m invisible?

Then Brittany’s voice rang out again, loud and vicious:

“Sis, it’s been years and still no baby. If he’s not working, then maybe it’s time for a change. Julian’s great. And if he gets you pregnant, well… Daniel can just be the godfather.”

I stared at Vanessa.

She smiled. Her eyes curved in that familiar way.

“I’ll think about it,” she said softly.

The glass in my hand cracked under my grip.

Godfather?

Are they seriously saying she can have a child with another man and toss me the title of godfather?

And it was Vanessa’s sister who said it—boldly, publicly. It wasn’t just a joke. It was their family's judgment: I was useless. Expendable. Weak.

I laughed. Not because it was funny—but because it was insane.

After college, I gave up everything to help Vanessa chase her dream of starting a business. She said she wanted a career, so I made it happen. She only needed to name the goal—I handled the rest.

While she slept peacefully, I stayed up building her empire.

To land business deals, I often drank with clients—too much, too often. I lost count of how many times I ended up in the emergency room because of it.

It was Vanessa’s choice not to have children. But to protect her, I took the blame. I told everyone the problem was with me.

I said it so many times, even she started to believe it.

After she started bringing that little boy around all the time—her “nephew,” so she claimed—Vanessa stopped coming home. Always an excuse. Always too busy. She never gave me another chance. No intimacy, no future.

Sometimes, I’d catch myself wondering: when did I become the one everyone pointed fingers at?

The birthday banquet began.

My father-in-law’s younger brother made his rounds, toasting everyone. When he reached me, I rose from my seat out of respect—basic courtesy as a son-in-law.

Apparently, he didn’t see it that way.

He shot me a look full of disdain and scoffed, “Why are you standing? I’m not drinking with you. You shouldn’t even be here.”

Then he glanced at the fruit box I’d brought.

“You had the nerve to send rotten fruit? Look at what Julian brought.”

With that, he turned and walked away.

I clenched my fists and laughed bitterly.

The wine and cigarettes that Julian “gifted” were bought by me. Even the consecrated jade pendant—that I drove hundreds of kilometers to get from a temple—I was the one who prepared that. For them.

Vanessa had said she was too busy to prepare a birthday gift. So I handled everything. I made sure it was thoughtful, elegant, and meaningful.

But in the end, all my efforts wore someone else’s name.

While I was on the road—exhausted, sweating, worrying if I’d make it back in time—they were posting polished photos together on social media. Smiling. Matching outfits. Filtered bliss.

I’m not a fool.

Everything was orchestrated by Vanessa.

She had the chance to defend me. She could’ve said something. But she didn’t. She let everyone believe I was the cheapskate who brought spoiled fruit.

And at that moment, I felt… nothing. No more pain. Just the urge to laugh.

I’ve never been a coward. I had the guts to choose Vanessa back then—and I have the guts to walk away now.

The moment I saw her light a cigarette for Julian, I knew.

It was over.

The lighter? I gave it to her. She asked for it specifically.

When I asked why, she had smiled and said,

“I want to light your cigarettes for the rest of our lives. You work too hard, always pushing yourself. If you have to smoke, I want to be the one to light it… only for you.”

That vow meant everything to me.

Now, it means nothing.

As I turned to leave the banquet, Julian exhaled a cloud of smoke in my direction—casual, arrogant, like I was the one being dismissed.

Vanessa’s family stared at me coldly, as if I was an intruder. An embarrassment.

“Daniel,” Vanessa called after me, arms crossed, voice dripping with disdain,

“You better think this through. Don’t come crawling back to me like a dog when you regret it.”

I didn’t even glance back.

When I got home, the first thing I did was call an old friend.

“I want a divorce,” I said.

Then I packed my belongings and placed the house key on the table.

Before I walked out, I took one last look at the place Vanessa and I had decorated together.

Goodbye, Vanessa.

---

I spent that night at a hotel. The next morning, I rented a modest apartment in an old neighborhood. The space was small, the walls faded, and the plumbing groaned with age.

But it didn’t matter.

I’ve lived through worse.

I still remember the first time I met Vanessa. She’d just been admitted to a third-tier university, while I got into one of the top ones. Her campus wasn’t far from mine.

That day, her father tried to drag her home—said she couldn’t afford tuition and should drop out.

I happened to witness the scene. I saw Vanessa crying, pleading. Something in me stirred.

I stepped in.

Her father barked at me, told me not to meddle in things that weren’t my business.

“She’s got no money. What’s the point of school? Better marry her off while she’s still young.”

I didn’t think. I just said,

“I’ll pay her tuition.”

At the time, I only wanted to protect her right to an education.

I never expected her to fall for me.

Later, I found out her father wasn’t poor. He just thought education was a waste on girls.

Vanessa told me more than once,

“You saved me from a dead end. You were my hero.”

Funny how heroes become fools in the end.

For Vanessa, I juggled both school and work. I went to classes in the day and chased money by night—tutoring, delivering food, setting up street stalls. Whatever it took.

It would be a lie to say it wasn’t hard. But every time I saw her smile, I felt it was worth it.

After graduation, Vanessa didn’t want to settle down with some stranger in an arranged marriage. She was determined to start her own business—and once again, I stood by her side. I took on the dirty work, the back-end grind, anything she didn’t want to do.

That’s how we built everything, step by step.

But somehow, Vanessa forgot all the vows we made in those early, hungry days.

Just as I finished packing my things, my phone rang. For a second, I thought it might be Vanessa—maybe she finally noticed I was leaving.

But the number wasn’t hers.

“Daniel, are you okay?”

It was Claire Matthew, an old classmate.

Back in school, Claire was known as a campus beauty, smart and poised. She always treated me well. When she learned I needed money, she introduced me to several part-time jobs—never looking down on me, only helping.

I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

She hesitated. “I heard… you’re getting divorced.”

I smiled bitterly. I had asked another old classmate to help handle the legal matters. I didn’t expect him to share the news so quickly.

Claire paused, then said seriously, “Daniel, I know the kind of person you are. Since you’ve made up your mind to divorce Vanessa, then don’t look back. I have a project—something I think would be perfect for you. Want to hear more?”

I didn’t even think twice. “Yes.”

The company is tied to Vanessa. Naturally, I won’t stay there. Besides, I don’t want to watch her and Julian flaunt their affection in front of me day after day.

Not long after I hung up, my phone rang again. It was Tessa Brooks from the company.

“Daniel, come in. Right away.”

I frowned. “What’s going on?”

She snapped, “Just come when I tell you to. Why are you asking so many questions?”

I was stunned for a moment.

Tessa was someone I personally recruited. She was the very first employee to join us—one of the company's founding pillars.

When she started, she was clueless. I taught her everything, step by step, until she became competent and independent. You could say I was her mentor. For a long time, she respected me deeply.

But ever since Julian came along, Tessa’s attitude toward me had shifted. She began singing praises of how well Vanessa and Julian got along. Yesterday at the birthday banquet, I even heard her mutter under her breath that I was an “eyesore.”

I laughed quietly to myself.

If there’s one upside to walking away from Vanessa, it’s that I no longer have to deal with these ungrateful people.

“Did you read the email I sent?” I asked.

Tessa scoffed. “What, the resignation letter? Yeah, I read it. Are you done being dramatic? You’re not a child.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I know what you’re doing. You just want President Cole’s attention. You think she’ll chase after you if you stir up enough drama? Forget it. It won’t work.”

She thought this was some kind of petty tactic. That I was acting jealous, clinging to Vanessa.

She couldn’t be more wrong.

I replied calmly, “If there’s nothing else, I’m hanging up. And don’t call me again if something goes wrong at the company.”

Tessa didn’t back down. “President Cole and Assistant Shaw are on vacation. You knew that, right?”

“Oh?” I said flatly. “Good for them.”

“You’re disgusting,” she spat. “She doesn’t even care, so who are you putting on this show for?”

“Anyway, I’m just doing my job. A big client’s coming today, and they need you. Show up if you want. But if you don’t, let’s see how you explain yourself to President Cole.”

Then she hung up.

Same bad temper as always.

But what does any of this have to do with me?

So now, while Vanessa and Julian are off enjoying a vacation, I’m supposed to come back and clean up their mess?

My phone buzzed again. I looked down.

It was a message from the company group chat. I hadn’t exited it yet.