Years of doing housework had indeed made the skin on my hands rough. It was no wonder Frederick found them unappealing. Not wanting to hear any more, I fled somewhat awkwardly into the bathroom.

…

Ten minutes later, he knocked on the door. "Cecilia, something came up at the company. I need to head over there. Get some sleep."

I hummed in acknowledgment. Just as he was about to leave, I suddenly spoke up. "Frederick, if you don't come back tonight, can I use a reconciliation voucher?"

I looked at him with tears still glistening in my eyes. He paused mid-step, then immediately turned. "Of course."

Frederick smiled at me, his expression relaxed. "Don't worry, I'll definitely be home before midnight. You won't need to use that voucher."

Looking at his face, which hadn't changed much from five years ago, I suppressed the bitterness in my heart and smiled slightly. "Alright, I'll wait for you."

…

It was three hours until midnight when I paid a premium for a delivery service to buy me a cake.

Frederick's assistant, Taylor Hanson, posted on social media complaining about working overtime alone in the empty office.

Frederick sent me a message. "Just got to the company. I'll be home soon."

When it was two hours until midnight, I found a picture of him proposing to me while organizing my photo album. I posted it online on impulse. "I can't believe we've been together for five years already."

Frederick quickly replied, "More than five years."

He also sent me a photo of the night scenery with the message: "The night is beautiful tonight. It reminds me of you."

I didn't reply because I recognized the skyline in the background. It wasn't near his office but in the city center, where the most romantic restaurants were located.

Emma couldn't resist posting something only I could see. "You may have married your perfect woman, but I'm the one you really want."

In the bottom left corner of her photo, Frederick's left hand was clearly visible. He wasn't wearing his wedding ring.

When it was an hour until midnight, I curled up on the couch, playing our wedding video on loop while eating the cake the delivery person had brought. Somehow, the cake tasted increasingly salty, though.

I thought I would probably never like this cake again.

It was 30 minutes until midnight when Frederick stopped replying to my messages. I stopped bothering him and began packing my belongings.

Finally, I took out the last reconciliation voucher from the jar just one minute before midnight, ready to tear it up. Suddenly, someone knocked on the front door.

I paused and hurried to open it.

"Hello, this is a gift from Mr. Frederick Morrison. Please sign for it."

The delivery person held a jewelry box, looking professional and courteous. At the same time, Frederick's message popped up.

"Sorry, I have to stay at the office tonight. Use the reconciliation voucher if you want. I'll bring you your favorite cake when I get home."

I was about to reply when I accidentally knocked over the bookshelf. The wedding photo that had been displayed there for five years crashed to the floor with a loud bang, scattering glass shards everywhere.

The delivery person jumped and quickly asked, "Miss, do you need help cleaning this up?"

I shook my head and typed on my phone. "Don't bother with the cake, Frederick. The reconciliation vouchers are all used up. Let's get divorced."

The next second, hundreds of messages flooded my phone.