My infertile wife, Quinn Hart, finally gets pregnant after seven years of marriage. But our baby boy is diagnosed with a rare disease shortly after being born.

In order to treat our child's disease, Quinn and I have sold everything we own. Alas, we still aren't able to gather enough money to save him.

Left without a choice, I can only take on jobs far away from home. Since Quinn is left penniless, she and our child are forced to room with other people.

One day, I receive a work order that comes with lucrative rewards. Apparently, I'm required to clean windows on a tall building.

Coincidentally, the address points to the building where Quinn is rooming with others.

I slowly descend to the window, hoping to give Quinn a surprise. But that's when I notice the boisterous atmosphere inside that particular room.

I notice Quinn holding our baby boy with one hand while her other hand is intertwined with another man.

"Everyone, meet my husband whom I'm secretly married to for many years, Chester Langston. Today is our moving day as well as the celebration party for our son.

"Thank you for attending the grand occasion. We'd like to toast to you in order to show our gratitude."

I feel my blood freezing in my veins at that moment.

Meanwhile, Quinn is typing away on her phone a short distance away. The next thing I know, I hear my phone chiming once. It seems that a new text has appeared on the screen.

"Honey, I'm already pinching pennies just by sharing the same bed with other people with our son. But the thing is, I don't have enough money to last the month…"

I can hear Quinn's "husband" teasing her with a soft chuckle through the open window.

"So, this is how you've been lying to him, huh?"

Quinn just smiles at him casually. "I did everything out of love for you, didn't I? In fact, I've been pretending to be infertile for seven long years just so I can keep my promise to you. And now, I'm pretending to be poor to the point that I keep telling Nicholas that I'm sharing a bed with strangers every day."

The woman's voice grew clearer and clearer until the final word reached my ears.

I looked up.

The next second, she was standing by the window. Our eyes met.

I heard a crash. It was the sound of the cup slipping from Quinn Hart's hand and shattering across the floor.

Instantly, everyone's attention turned toward us.

Panic filled Quinn's eyes as she stared at me—filthy, disheveled, and standing on the scaffold.

She parted her lips, about to speak, but Chester Langston stepped forward and cut her off. "Why were you eavesdropping on our conversation? Do you have any professional standards at all? Is everyone here this uncivilized? It's no wonder you're stuck doing this kind of work!

"Where's your boss? I want to file a complaint!"

As Chester spoke, he wrapped an arm around Quinn's shoulders. The look he gave me was filled with smugness and triumph. He recognized me.

My eyes reddened as I stared at Quinn. Finally, under my gaze, she reached out and intertwined her fingers with the man beside her once again, then spoke with displeasure. "Yes. We should file a complaint."

Right in front of me, Quinn personally called property management.

By the time I came back to my senses, my coworkers and I had climbed down from the scaffold and entered the room we'd been working on earlier. Beside the door hung a plaque that read, "Quinn and Chester's Happy Home."

The moment I stepped inside, the first thing I saw was a wedding portrait right in the center of the room, along with photographs displayed throughout the room. In every picture, Quinn smiled brightly, her eyes filled with love.

In our seven years together, we didn't even have a single picture together. She always said she hated having her picture taken.

Once, I secretly snapped a photo of us together. When she saw it, she slapped me without hesitation and roared, "I told you I don't like taking pictures. Can you stop forcing me?"

So, it wasn't that she didn't like taking pictures. She just didn't like taking them with me.

Nearby, I heard Quinn's friends and relatives chatting. "Try this dish. Quinn cooked all of these herself. They're really good."

Instinctively, I looked over. There were nearly 20 dishes on the table, each one looking delicious.

But in my memory, Quinn couldn't cook. The only thing she'd ever made for me was a bowl of oatmeal that wasn't even fully cooked.

"Eat as much as you want. Quinn can cook for you again next time. She's a great cook."

Chester's cheerful voice drifted into my ears. Yet, his eyes remained fixed on me, looking every bit like the master of the house.

"What are you standing there for? Apologize! You were clearly in the wrong. Apologize to them properly!"

One of the property management staff shoved me from behind. I stumbled and fell to the floor.

In front of me lay a medical examination report.

The baby was healthy—healthier than anyone could've hoped for.

And the name "Chester Langston" was written in the column for the child's father. I recognized the handwriting instantly. It was Quinn's.

I jerked my head up and looked at Quinn, every emotion pouring out at that moment. My body trembled uncontrollably as I asked in a shaky voice, "Quinn, are you going to explain yourself?"

But the only response I received was a glass of ice water dumped over my head without the slightest hesitation.

"Explain myself? What do I need to explain? You're the one who ruined our special day. You're the one who should be apologizing to us!"

I froze, staring at her in disbelief. "Quinn, you—"

"Enough." She cut me off impatiently. "Today's such a wonderful day. I won't stoop to your level. Why are you still here? Do you want me to call the police?"

Meeting Quinn's impatient gaze, I could hear all the contempt and complaints coming from the people around us. Meanwhile, my colleagues repeatedly apologized on my behalf.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to calm down. Finally, I turned and walked away. It wasn't until I parted ways with my coworkers and reached an empty corner downstairs that my legs finally gave out. I collapsed onto the ground.

The sun was shining brightly overhead, yet I felt freezing cold. The chill seeped out from my bones, carrying an endless ache with it.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a message from Quinn. "Don't overthink this. Things aren't what you think they are. Wait for me to explain."

I had already seen everything with my own eyes. What was left to explain?

I didn't know how long I sat there. It was long enough for the sky to darken, and long enough for a heavy rainstorm to suddenly begin. Yet, I never moved from where I was.

Then, not far away, I heard a familiar female voice. "Mom, Dad, it's raining. Why don't you leave a little later?"

"A wedding? Chester and I will definitely hold one. That's a big deal."

"A second child? We do have plans for that, but we'll wait until the first child is a little older."

The next second, the woman holding an umbrella locked eyes with me.

Quinn's mother spoke first. She immediately grabbed Quinn's arm and looked at me warily. "Isn't that him? Why is he still here? Has he been waiting around?"

Quinn gave her mother a reassuring smile, then walked over, her expression turning impatient again.

In a voice only the two of us could hear, she spoke. "Nicholas, are you done yet? Can you stop making a scene? Can you stop worrying my parents?"

The barrage of criticism rained down on me. Yet, all I had done was sit here quietly.

I forced a bitter smile and looked up at her. "So, those are your parents. You seem very close."

During our seven years of marriage, Quinn had never once introduced me to her parents. She'd always said their relationship was terrible and that she didn't want me to suffer alongside her whenever she dealt with them.

"Mom, Dad, your car's here. Let me send you off. We'll handle things here. Don't worry. I'm here." Chester hurried over and gently supported the two elders, concern written all over his face.

Soon, only the three of us remained.

Once again, Chester wrapped an arm around Quinn and smiled. "Nick, you're not angry, are you? I'm sorry. There's really nothing going on between Q and me. Please don't fight with her because of me."

As he spoke, his eyes were filled with blatant provocation. I just stayed silent.

Without warning, Chester stepped closer and shoved me where no one could see. Behind me was a large boulder. Before I could react, he had already fallen to the ground, wearing an expression of pain.

Then, he said, "Nick, if this makes you feel better, I'll accept it. But please, don't be angry with Q."

My body slammed directly into the rock behind me. A sharp pain instantly shot through my lower back, where there was an old injury.

That injury came from a car accident three years ago. When it happened, I had thrown myself over Quinn without hesitation to protect her. But my own back paid the price.

But before I could even get back up, an overwhelming force slammed me down to the ground again. Quinn had slapped me.

I never imagined that Quinn, the woman who struggled to twist open a bottle cap, could hit with such force. I looked up in shock.

By then, she had already turned away and rushed to Chester's side. She helped him to his feet, her face full of concern.

Then, she looked back at me, her gaze ice-cold. "Nicholas Finch, apologize."

What had I done? Why should I apologize? A crushing sense of absurdity spread through my chest.

"Why should I?" I asked in a hoarse voice. By the time the words left my mouth, they were trembling uncontrollably.

Quinn grew even angrier. Just as she was about to say something, her phone suddenly rang.

"What? The baby's crying? We're coming back now."

After hanging up, she shot me a vicious glare, as though I were some terrible criminal. She said, "Reflect on what you've done. When you're ready to apologize, then you can contact me."

With that, she helped Chester up and hurried away.

I stood there in a daze, watching their intimate figures disappear into the distance, my gaze filled with sorrow.

I took a step forward, wanting to go home. But then I froze in my tracks, suddenly remembering that the house had already been sold, and every penny had gone to Quinn.

I didn't even have a home to return to.

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Quinn. "Nick, it's Chester. Quinn was worried you wouldn't have anywhere to stay, so she asked me to send you some money."

Quinn had never allowed anyone else to touch her phone. Chester was the exception.

I stared at the transfer notice of 2.5 dollars on my screen. The mockery couldn't have been more obvious.

My fingers trembled as I clicked "decline" and slowly typed a reply. "No need. Keep it for yourself. It suits you better anyway."

The next second, my phone rang. It was Quinn.

For a moment, I was stunned. For the past few days that I'd been working away from home, she had never once called me. As far as I could remember, this was the first time.

As soon as I answered, a torrent of abuse poured through the speaker. "Nicholas, what the hell is wrong with you? C was worried about you and tried to show some kindness, and this is how you treat him? Did your parents die before they could teach you basic manners?"

My parents' deaths had always been the deepest wound in my heart. Quinn knew that better than anyone.

Before I could even respond, she had already hung up without hesitation.

The only reason Quinn had called was to stand up for Chester. A bitter feeling I couldn't describe rose from the depths of my chest and lodged itself in my throat.

I didn't know how long I stood there afterward. Eventually, I clenched my fists and forced myself to leave.

When I appeared outside the law firm, my friend, Arnold Simmons, looked shocked. "What are you doing here?"

Then, he seemed to realize something and punched me with a frown. "What? Your wife finally gave you permission to come see me?"

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

Not long after I married Quinn, she deleted every woman's number from my contacts list, saying she felt insecure. A while later, she deleted all the men's too, claiming only that would put her at ease.

Of course, I had objected. But when I saw her tear-filled eyes, I eventually gave in. From that day on, Quinn became the only person left in my world.

After I told Arnold everything, he stood there silently for a long time before finally letting out a sigh. "So, what does love turn into in the end?"

Betrayal. Impatience. Deception. Hurt…

With nowhere else to go, I followed Arnold home. During the journey, I finally made up my mind.

When we stepped inside his house, I said resolutely, "I need one more favor from you. I want a divorce. Help me draft the divorce agreement."