The next morning, Josie rose early to prepare breakfast for Kira.

Graham came downstairs, the stale scent of alcohol still clinging to him.

Kira clutched her little rabbit plush and ran toward him. "Daddy—"

Before she could finish, his cold, cutting glare rooted her to the spot.

"What did you just call me?" he asked, his voice low and sharp.

Startled, Kira clung tighter to her toy, her voice trembling. "Mr. Holloway…"

He tugged at his tie, visibly irritated, then turned to Josie with a warning. "If you can't teach her properly, get out of my house."

Bitterness welled up in her chest.

That was always his favorite phrase—get out of my house.

Each time he said it, both she and Kira would be filled with fear. But now, for the first time, she truly wanted to leave.

She didn't respond. Silently, she placed breakfast on the table and lifted Kira into her chair.

The eggs and toast were made just the way Graham liked them, but he didn't even glance at the plate. Instead, his tone was icily detached.

"Allison is back. Stay out of her sight for now. She doesn't like seeing you."

Then, glancing briefly at Kira, he added, "Her, too."

Josie looked at the chill in his expression, at the indifference carved into his features. For a moment, she wanted to ask—did he even have a heart?

But in the end, all she could muster was a quiet, "Okay."

After dropping Kira off at kindergarten, Josie went to her studio.

She had once been a fine arts major—talented, even celebrated. Before graduation, she had held her own solo exhibition.

But after giving birth to Kira, she gave it all up for Graham, Kira, and their home. Her paintings became little more than private indulgences, created in stolen hours.

Most of them were about Graham.

She had poured all her love onto the canvas, brushstroke after brushstroke, laying bare the depth of her devotion.

And yet, when he saw the paintings, all he said was, "Stop wasting time on meaningless things. The only person I've ever loved is Allison."

Graham was a block of ice—no amount of warmth could ever melt him.

That day, Josie dragged every painting she had ever made of him out to the edge of the city.

She doused them in gasoline.

Then she lit a match.

If all her efforts had been in vain, then she would choose to let go.

Countless images of Graham's face curled and blackened in the flames, swallowed up and turned to ash. Just like her love for him.

She would let him go, once and for all. Erase him completely from her life.

Suddenly, her phone rang in her pocket.

She answered it and heard the urgent voice of a kindergarten teacher on the other end.

"Kira's mom? Something's happened at school. Please come quickly."

A wave of unease washed over Josie.

Kira had always been a well-behaved child. She had never once caused trouble at kindergarten.

This was the first time a teacher had ever called her like this.

She rushed to the school office, only to find Kira standing in the corner, trembling, tears streaming, and hiccupping. Her small face was flushed an alarming shade of red.

Across the room, Graham stood with his usual cold, detached expression. Beside him was a little girl and a slender, elegant woman.

Josie recognized the woman immediately—Allison Blake, Graham's first love.

She clung to his arm with the effortless intimacy of a wife. The two of them looked as though they had always belonged together.

And the child by his side? That was Allison's daughter.

The moment Josie stepped into the room, she saw the girl grip Graham's arm and burst into tears. "Daddy, she bullied me!"

Kira's eyes widened in disbelief. Graham had never once let her call him that. The teachers all assumed Kira came from a single-parent home.

But now, another child could openly call him "Daddy" in front of everyone—and he didn't just allow it, he welcomed it.

He wrapped the little girl gently in his arms, comforting her in a soft voice. "Don't be scared, Cami. Daddy's here. Daddy will protect you."

That tender tone, that loving gaze—

Kira had never known any of it.

But when Graham turned to look at her, his expression turned hard, glacial. "Who taught you to fight with your classmates? Don't you have any manners? Apologize to Cami right now."

Kira flinched under the sharpness of his voice. She clutched her bunny plush tightly. Through her sobs, she stammered, "She… she tore my toy first…"

On the desk sat the torn bunny—last night, Graham had brought it home while drunk and muttered that it was a gift for her.

Kira had been thrilled. She had fallen asleep holding it, and even brought it to school this morning, unwilling to part with it.

But now, Cami Blake pointed at it, furious. "What do you mean your toy? That was for me! My daddy bought it for me! You're a thief!"

Thief. To a five-year-old, that word cut deeper than anyone realized.

Kira's eyes turned red, her small fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. "I'm not…"

She looked up at Graham, desperate for him to defend her. Just once.

But he averted his gaze, cold and unmoved.

Allison stepped in with a soft smile. "Graham did buy Cami several toys yesterday. She didn't like the bunny, so he took it home. Maybe Kira just happened to have the same one."

The sadness in Kira's eyes deepened.

So the gift she had treasured—her only gift from her father—was nothing more than a discarded afterthought.

Still, she whispered, her voice full of hurt, "But… Daddy gave it to me…"

Graham's brows furrowed.

He avoided her gaze again and said with indifference, "So what? It's just a toy. You were still wrong to hit someone. You owe Cami an apology."

Then he turned on Josie. "Is this the kind of child you raised? Hitting others, then showing no remorse? What kind of mother are you?"

Josie felt her heart go cold. She opened her mouth to speak.

But Kira tugged her hand.

Her eyes were red, her voice urgent. "It's not Mommy's fault. Mommy is the best mom in the world."

Then, as if afraid she'd said too much, she wiped her face with her sleeve, gave Josie a trembling smile, and said softly, "It's okay, Mommy. I'll apologize."

She knew—if she didn't apologize, Graham wouldn't let this go.

And her mother would be blamed.

She didn't want that. She didn't want her mom to suffer for her.

So, with her little heart breaking, she turned toward Graham and said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Holloway."

The words landed with a quiet ache, slicing into Josie's heart like a blade.

"I'm sorry, Cami."

"I'm sorry… Cami's mom."

Then she reached out, took Josie's hand, and turned to leave.

The teacher, caught off guard by Kira's unusually subdued behavior, blinked and chased after her with the torn bunny in hand. "Kira, you forgot your toy."

Kira paused, glanced at it. Then, eyes filled with tears, she shook her head. "I don't want it anymore."

Josie stared at her in disbelief.

Graham stood frozen at the doorway.

A sharp ache bloomed in Josie's chest as she thought, 'Graham… you have two chances left.'

The next day, Josie arrived at the kindergarten to process Kira's withdrawal.

The teacher looked surprised. "Why the sudden decision to withdraw her?"

Josie replied, "Kira's grandparents live overseas. I'm planning to emigrate with her."

Just as she finished speaking, Graham appeared behind her, his face clouded with tension.

"Emigrate?" he repeated sharply.

The teacher was about to respond, but Josie cut in smoothly, "I said her grandparents moved abroad. If time allows, I'd like to take her to visit them."

For some reason, Graham seemed relieved.

He placed a folder on the desk. "These are Cami's enrollment documents."

The teacher smiled as she accepted the papers, full of praise. "Mr. Holloway, you're so thoughtful. Cami may not be your biological daughter, but the way you handle everything for her, I say you treat her even better than a real parent would."

To Josie, the words pierced like needles. Graham had never done anything like that for Kira.

If not for his recent run-in with Allison's daughter, he probably wouldn't even know which kindergarten Kira attended.

She couldn't help but speak. "Yes, Mr. Holloway really is a wonderful father."

Those last two words, she said with deliberate weight.

Graham faltered for a moment. He didn't snap back as expected. He simply stood there, silent.

Later that afternoon, Josie went to the art museum. A few of her pieces were on display there. She had come to take them down.

But as soon as she entered, she saw Graham standing with Allison.

The two stood side by side. Allison laughed with relaxed elegance, surrounded by several of Graham's acquaintances from the art world.

"I heard you've been secretly married for years," someone teased. "So this must be your wife?"

"A perfect match, truly—no wonder you kept her hidden. She's a beauty."

As the compliments floated through the air, Graham simply smiled and laced his fingers with Allison's, as if sealing the moment.

He made no move to correct them.

Standing in the back, Josie let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh.

So this was it.

From beginning to end, the one he had wanted to marry was always Allison.

Now, with the whole world watching, he was finally living that dream—appearing with her in public, hand in hand, no longer hiding.

And she—Josie—what had she been?

What, exactly, had the past ten years meant?

A heart already gone cold began to ache again. Her eyes reddened.

"Graham," she called softly.

He turned toward her, his gaze sharp and impersonal, a silent warning in his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked flatly, his tone distant, drawing a clear boundary.

The words she'd meant to say died on her tongue.

She had wanted to remind him—tomorrow was Kira's birthday. She had hoped he would remember to come home.

But now… it felt pointless.

Allison glanced at her and asked lightly, "Graham, do you know her?"

Without hesitation, Graham replied, "Not really."

Those two words landed like a knife.

Josie swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat.

Then Allison, as if twisting the blade, smiled and said, "You must be one of Graham's friends? We're getting married soon—we'll be sure to invite you."

Josie turned sharply to look at him, stunned.

Graham avoided her gaze, eyes shifting away.

Allison went on, almost too casually. "Before I went abroad, Graham and I made a ten-year promise. If I returned after ten years, he would marry me.

"I thought it was just something we said at the time. But I never imagined… he'd really wait ten years for me.

"So now I'm back—to keep my promise."