"Because she's in love with him, obviously! Have you seen how much charm our boy Nigel's got?"

All eyes turned to Leona. She covered her face, cheeks flushed pink.

"Why are you all looking at me?"

"Stop it!"

The teasing wouldn't let up, and Leona's laughter threaded through the catcalls and whistles.

Every word landed like a needle in my chest.

I didn't know how long the noise went on. By the time Nigel pushed open the bedroom door, I'd already cried myself to sleep.

"I'm driving Leona home. Clean up while I'm gone."

Through the open door, I could see her standing there, waiting for him.

Again.

Any one of those guests could have dropped her off on their way. But somehow, it was always Nigel.

Before I could say a word, he was already out the door with her.

I stood in the living room like I was surveying the aftermath of a disaster.

Images flashed through my mind: me crouched on the kitchen floor, scrubbing the dining room, wiping down every corner of this house on my hands and knees.

Something inside me snapped.

I sat down on the couch and waited for Nigel to come back.

The lock clicked. Then came his voice, already at a roar.

"Lorraine, you didn't touch a single thing?"

"Don't tell me you were sitting here waiting for me to clean up after—"

"Nigel, I want a divorce."

Seven words. That was all it took to kill the fire in his throat.

The living room went dead silent.

After a beat, Nigel laughed.

"Lorraine, you're thirty years old. You're not some eighteen-year-old girl anymore."

"Throwing around breakups over a bad mood was fine when we were dating. Marriage is a different game."

"You can't treat this like it's nothing. There's a baby in that room who isn't even a year old, still waiting for you to nurse him and put him to sleep."

He pointed at the bedroom door, the corner of his mouth curling with something close to contempt.

I looked up at the man standing over me.

When exactly had we become this?

For four years of college, Nigel had been everyone's idea of the perfect boyfriend.

Even on days when he had no classes, he'd walk me to and from mine in the rain, holding the umbrella over my head.

"My Lorraine never remembers to bring an umbrella," he'd say. "So I've got to stay ready."

No matter where we went, he carried a thermos, making sure I always had water at exactly 115 degrees.

"Lorraine says the ideal drinking temperature is 115 degrees," he'd tell people. "You think I'm going to trust some random water fountain to get that right?"

He carried my meal trays, picked my electives, grabbed my packages, saved my seats, tutored me before finals. If it could be done for me, he did it.

His friends joked that the only things left were eating, drinking, and breathing for me.

The year we graduated, couples everywhere were breaking up over long distance.

But he stayed in Seaview City. For me.

"Wherever you are, that's where I'll be. For the rest of my life."

I was so moved that I brought him home to meet my parents.

They didn't approve. Not of him, not of his background.

I fought with them over it. Packed my things and moved out.

For the two years we lived together in Seaview City, Nigel threw himself into his career. He swore he'd make something of himself, prove my parents wrong.

But no matter how late he worked, he never forgot that I was home waiting for him.

He'd pick up flowers on his way back. A small cake from the bakery down the street.

We cooked dinner together, side by side, and those were the best two years of my life.

Those two years were what made me certain I wanted to marry him.

"I'm telling you right now, if you marry that man, your father and I won't give you a single cent."

"Lorraine, we gave you a comfortable life so you could thrive, not so you could throw it all away and go backwards!"

"Use your head for once!"

The day I told my mother I wanted to marry Nigel, she jabbed her finger at my forehead and screamed until she was hoarse.

But in the end, they couldn't talk me out of it.

That year, Nigel's father got sick, and Nigel had been running back and forth between the two cities.

I felt sorry for him, so I decided to follow Nigel back to his hometown, a small city barely on the map.

"I know your parents have been pushing you to come home, and you've been holding out in Seaview City for my sake without telling me."

"I'm willing to go back with you, Nigel."

Just like that, we got our marriage license.

I was pregnant the same year. The baby came the next.

Life felt like someone had hit fast-forward, and somewhere along the way, the marriage started dying too.

Only now did it dawn on me.

If Nigel had truly kept his parents' pressure a secret, I never would have found out.

"Fine, what happened today was my fault. I apologize."

"Stop making a fuss. I'm really tired."

Nigel tossed out the apology like he was swatting a fly.

And I couldn't hear a shred of sincerity in it.

"Nigel, I'm not bringing up divorce because I'm throwing a tantrum."

"I genuinely want a divorce."

I said it again, clearly and firmly.

Nigel snapped.

"Lorraine, is something wrong with your head?"

"I work myself to the bone every single day for this family, and you want a divorce because you didn't get a seat at the dinner table?"

"Eight years together, and you're throwing it all away over one meal? Don't you think you're blowing this way out of proportion?"

His brows knotted tight, every word laced with something cruel.

"Have you worked a single day since college?"

"Two years in Seaview City, two years married here. Every cent you've ever spent, I earned. How exactly have I mistreated you?"

"Lorraine, you don't know how good you have it!"

A crack of thunder split the sky outside the window.

I didn't respond. I scrambled off the bed and rushed into the bedroom to comfort the baby.

"Shh, it's okay, sweetie. Mommy's here."

"Mommy's right here..."

You don't know how good you have it. My mother had said the same thing to me once.

Back then I didn't understand. Now I did.

"Lorraine, stay home and cool off. I'm going out to sleep somewhere else tonight."

The words hung in the air for half a second before the front door shut behind him.

I knew the "cooling off" was a lie.

He was going to Leona's.

Because Leona was afraid of thunder.

There was a time, once, when Nigel and I were in bed together, laughing, tangled up in each other.

"Nigel, I'm scared."

He'd gotten a call from Leona. "I'll be right there."

I stared at him, confused. He explained, "Leona's parents died in an accident. Struck by lightning."

"Lorraine, I need to go check on her."

I went with him.

Back then, I felt genuinely sorry for Leona. Whenever something good came my way, I thought of her too.

Later, after Nigel's father recovered, Nigel and I started planning the wedding.

Leona naturally became my maid of honor, helping me pick out everything we needed for the ceremony.

She and I grew close.

She would tell me stories about Nigel as a kid, and I loved hearing every one.

She and Nigel were close. So close that even I had my moments of doubt and jealousy.

"I'd never go for her. She's basically one of the guys."

"I've got this sweet, soft little wife already. Why would I look at anyone else?"

Whenever Nigel sensed my unease, he'd explain, he'd reassure, he'd coax me back to calm.

Hearts change.

Now, even when I brought up divorce, he still couldn't wait to rush out and be with another woman.

Within minutes, I saw Leona's post on social media.

As long as you're here, I'm not afraid of anything.

The photo showed two hands clasped together.

I recognized the mole on the ring finger. It was Nigel's.

The comments below were all Nigel's friends, egging them on.

The little missus is living the good life!

Leona, happy again, huh?

When are we getting wedding candy? Little missus~

I stared at those three words until they burned. My throat ached like I'd swallowed needles.

I tapped "like" without thinking, then immediately took it back.

Sure enough, the next second Leona's message popped up.

Don't get the wrong idea.

There's nothing going on between me and Nigel.

I didn't bother replying.

After I got Zachery to sleep, I sat motionless on the bed until dawn.

When the clock hit six, I finally picked up my phone and called my father.

"Dad..."

My voice cracked the moment the word left my mouth.

All the hurt, all the grief, came flooding out. I couldn't stop crying.

On the other end, Dad panicked, asking me over and over what was wrong.

I sniffled and steadied my breathing. "Dad, I want to come home."

He didn't ask a single question. All he said was, "Okay."

"Mom and I are coming to get you."

I broke down all over again.

It wasn't long before I received the divorce agreement Dad had drafted. I forwarded it to Nigel without a second thought.

He didn't respond.

His parents beat the message home.

"Mom, Dad, you're—"

"You want to divorce Nigel?"

They cut me off before I could finish, practically tripping over themselves to speak.

"Lorraine, sweetheart, tell me why you want a divorce," Joan Delgado said.

"If Nigel's really in the wrong, I won't take his side. I promise."

She took my hands and sat me down, her voice dripping with concern.

Every word out of her mouth circled back to the same point: divorce would only hurt me. I shouldn't act on impulse.

"You're a young woman who married so far from home. If you divorce, where will you even go?"

The same sentiment, dressed up in different words.

I'd heard it before.

I pulled my hands free. "Why wouldn't I have somewhere to go? Getting married doesn't mean I stopped having a family."

Percival Delgado and Joan exchanged a look.

"That's not what she meant," Percival said.

"She feels bad for you, coming all this way just to be treated like this."

"Lorraine, honey, couples fight. You make up. You don't file for divorce over one bad dinner!"

Joan smacked him on the shoulder, a silent warning to shut up.

That was when it clicked. They hadn't come for me. They'd come to do Nigel's talking for him.

"And what about the baby?" Percival pressed. "If you divorce, what happens to him?"

"You really want him growing up with a stepmother?"

I looked at the two of them, their faces arranged in practiced concern, and felt something go cold inside me.

"The baby comes with me."

"And this divorce is happening."

The moment they saw my resolve, their expressions shifted.

Percival glared at me, all pretense gone. "I told them not to go after some pampered city princess, but did anyone listen?"

"They made me fake being sick just to trick her into coming back here to marry and settle down!"

"We didn't pay a cent in bride price, and she didn't bring a cent in dowry either!"

The words hit me one after another, each more absurd than the last. My heart skipped a beat.

"You faked your illness?"

My whole body was shaking.

"Dad, I brought you here to help, not to make things worse!" Nigel's voice came from the doorway.

He stormed in, flushed and frantic.

Leona was right behind him.

After a few sharp words, Percival went quiet.

"Nigel." My voice was barely holding together. "Explain. Now."

"You made your father fake an illness to trick me into coming back here and marrying you?"

I jabbed my finger at his face, fury flooding every vein.

Back then, Nigel had promised my parents we'd stay in Seaview City. It was only because of his father's "illness" that we'd moved back here at all.