My face turned pale as I snatched the phone from Cassy’s hands.

"Cassy, what nonsense are you talking about?"

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Dad said I’m a child, and children don’t talk nonsense!"

With that, she spun on her heel and ran off—knocking over the cake I had just set on the table.

The cream smeared across the floor, a sticky, ruined mess.

I stared at it for a moment, the remnants of my daughter’s anger splattered before me, and exhaled a long, tired sigh.

I didn’t understand. Ever since Adele entered our lives, Cassy had changed. My once sweet, sensible daughter had become volatile, lashing out at me in ways she never had before.

I picked up the phone again. "Look at your daughter," I said to Jude.

But he remained unmoved.

"Corinne, this isn’t how you should handle a child. At her age, you need to be patient."

Patient?

Had I not been patient enough?

Did patience mean sacrificing myself—divorcing my husband, stepping aside, letting another woman play mother to my own child?

Jude, Montclaire University professor of literature, always spoke with the air of someone who believed he knew better than everyone else.

Maybe in books, he was wise. But in real life, he was clueless.

I was too exhausted to argue.

I turned around and asked him why he hadn’t picked me up from work today.

A long silence stretched between us before he finally spoke.

"Corinne, you’ve walked that road so many times. You’re not a child who needs someone to pick you up." His tone was indifferent, almost dismissive. "At your age, are you still afraid to go home alone?"

Then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, "I have a seminar here. You should sleep first—I won’t be coming home tonight."

Just as he finished speaking, a faint but sharp moan echoed from his side of the call—hurriedly muffled, but unmistakable.

The sound pierced through me like a needle to my eardrum.

We are all adults. No matter how naive I wanted to be, I wasn’t stupid.

I knew exactly what that sound was.

My heart plummeted.

Tonight, after an exhausting shift, my daughter had scolded me.

My husband had forgotten my birthday.

And now, he was sleeping with another woman.

I stood frozen, staring at the ruined cake on the floor, its cream smeared into a mess—just like the wreckage of my life.

A notification lit up my phone screen.

"Happy Birthday!"

It was from the bank.

I let out a hollow laugh. The only birthday greeting I had received.

Mechanically, I cleaned up the mess, then sank onto the sofa, my body weighed down with exhaustion.

Out of habit, I opened my Instagram feed.

And then I saw it.

Adele’s latest post.

A woman’s slender shoulders leaning against a man’s broad chest—his face intentionally cropped out.

Three live photos. Different locations.

The bathroom. The kitchen. The bedroom.

The caption: "99% progress in the strategy."

My breath caught. My fingers trembled as I clicked on the images.

The moment they loaded, the accompanying sound played—one I could barely stomach.

A man’s heavy, desperate panting.

It was like a bolt of lightning striking my last shred of rationality.

I knew that voice.

I had spent years by Jude’s side—how could I not recognize it?

And when I looked closer, my stomach twisted.

There, on his collarbone, was a distinct dent—one that had never faded since the day he got injured saving me.

The second image was of Adele’s manicured fingers, hooked around his collar, her nails glinting under the light.

My breath turned shallow.

The man who had always been reserved, almost restrained with me, was now utterly unrestrained with someone else.

My hands shook as I zoomed in, desperately searching for proof that it wasn’t him.

But hope was short-lived.

Because on Adele’s finger, I spotted a ring.

A ring that looked painfully familiar.

A few days ago, I had stumbled upon it in Jude’s study drawer.

I had assumed it was a surprise for me—a birthday gift he was waiting to give.

I had spent days looking forward to it, imagining the moment he’d slip it onto my finger.

But now, that ring was on another woman’s hand.

I had been a fool.

A fool who had clung to memories of the past, to the version of him that once worked extra shifts as a deliveryman just to buy me a diamond ring.

I still remember the way he smiled when he handed me the gift box, the joy in his eyes.

"Corinne, I will give you even better things in the future."

His sincerity was so overwhelming that I fell in love with him all over again.

On our wedding night, he held me close, his voice sincere and raw: "If I can't conquer you, I will die." "Corinne, I'm so glad you've taken control of my life. Because I love you."

But that night, I woke up in the middle of a dream.

The wind outside had blown the window open, and the curtains swayed wildly.

"Jude?"

Only silence answered me—an empty, echoing void.

I hated that feeling of loneliness.

In the past, Jude would hold me tight at moments like this, whispering that it was the feeling of home.

I had grown up with parents who had been separated since I was young. The love I received was nothing more than a monthly allowance and obligatory greetings. It was Jude’s presence that had filled my life with light.

He once told me I didn’t have to be so independent, that he could be my support.

Ten years have passed. A lot had changed.

The cold wind had blown too long, and now, dizziness and fever gripped me.

I prepared breakfast for my daughter, who had just had tonsil surgery and could only eat light foods.

But she cried, lying on the floor, demanding fried meatballs from Adele.

I let her cry.

Then, I sent a message to Jude—no matter where he was, I couldn’t ignore my daughter.

He didn’t reply.

So, I took my daughter to the nursery.

After I had settled everything, I was caught off guard when the first patient to walk into my office was none other than Adele.

And Jude was right behind her.

The other colleagues in the office, unaware of the situation, began to tease him.

"Professor Langston is here to see Dr. Corinne? That's enviable."

"Breakfast for Dr. Corinne too? This display of affection in the hospital? I can’t stand it!"

But they didn’t know the truth.

Jude wasn’t there for me. He came with Adele.

He smiled but didn’t say a word, creating space between me and her. He didn’t want to explain anything.

Adele pulled the suit jacket from Jude’s shoulders and draped it over herself.

When she looked at me, her gaze was full of provocation.

"Dr. Langston, can you help me?"

"My boyfriend was too rough with me yesterday, and I’m feeling a bit uncomfortable now."

She knocked on the table when she saw that I remained calm.

"Dr. Langston, do you know why he’s like this with me and not with other women?"

"Does he love me so much that he’s this wild with me?"

She smirked, clearly enjoying every moment of this.

"I heard it was his wife’s birthday yesterday. He didn’t even go home. He said it wasn’t a big deal to celebrate a birthday in your thirties."

Adele kept speaking, her words cutting deeper with every sentence, all while observing my reaction.

But the truth was, my fever hadn’t subsided until this morning. I was weak, barely holding myself together.

I didn’t have the energy to respond to her meaningless words.

After finishing the prescription, I looked up and met her gaze with a calm, measured expression.

"Ms. Whitaker," I said coolly. "This is my professional time. Please leave personal matters out of this."

My voice was steady, but there was an undeniable edge to it.

"Otherwise, I’ll start thinking you’re just being childish."

I gestured toward the door. "Now, go get your medicine. Don’t waste the next patient’s time."

Adele’s smirk faltered, her face flushing with irritation.

She had come here expecting to see me unravel, to watch me break under her words. Instead, she was the one being dismissed.

Her lips curled in frustration.

"What kind of doctor are you, kicking me out like this?" she snapped, her voice rising.

"You really think I won’t file a complaint against you?"

After Adele yelled, she yanked Jude into the fray. His anxious expression only struck me as absurd. Here I was, his wife, humiliated in front of everyone, while he fretted over an outsider.

"Jude, tell her—who do you love?"

Adele gripped his tie, her voice sugary, with a hint of deliberate flirtation. Why hadn't I seen how unreasonable she was before?

Outside the office, a crowd had gathered, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

"Corinne, why bother with all this?"

"What’s a little girl like her to you? She's barely in her twenties, doesn't know anything."

Jude, ever the coward, dodged the question, trying to play the peacemaker.

He couldn’t even bring himself to admit, in front of all these people, that he’d betrayed me.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, I slapped him hard.

"Reflect on yourself."

Since they wanted to stir up trouble, I saw no reason to endure it any longer.

I grabbed Adele’s hand and turned to Jude.

"Do you dare to deny that the ring on her finger isn’t from you?"

"Your lover came to me, proudly flaunting that she stole my husband."

"She may be ignorant, but I’m sure the leaders of her school will understand."

My fury boiled over, and I raised my hand to slap Adele, but before I could, I felt a sharp force at my waist.

Someone pushed me out of the way, and I collided with the corner of the table. The pain exploded in my head, and white light flashed before my eyes. A warm rush of blood spread quickly across my forehead, the pain intensifying with every heartbeat. The surrounding noise grew louder as I sank into unconsciousness.

When I woke up two days later, a young nurse was sitting beside me. Her face lit up when she saw my eyes flutter open, and she burst into tears.

"Dr. Corinne, you’re awake!"

"The examination showed that your eyesight was nearly damaged. We were all so worried."

She waved her hand in front of me, asking gently, "Can you see clearly now?"

"Are you hungry? I’ll get you some porridge."

I forced out a bitter smile, feeling the heaviness of everything weighing down on me.

"It’s fine," I muttered. "I’m okay... I can go back to work in a few days."

But as I looked around, the absence of my family hit me harder thCassyy physical pain.

I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Jude, trying to suppress the unease in my chest.

I just wanted to know how my daughter was doing.

I had been in a coma for two days, unaware of everything.

But as soon as I typed the message to Jude, I deleted it.

The thought of my daughter’s sweet, innocent smile flickered in my mind, but it quickly twisted into a look of hatred for me.

She yelled, “Go to hell!”—the words pierced through me.

A chill ran down my spine, mingling with a deep sense of disappointment.

I had carried her for ten long months, and in her early years, her health was frail.

I had always been there for her, balancing the demands of work with caring for her every need.

There were times when even the doctors, concerned for my well-being, suggested I might be pushing myself too hard. They warned that it could have long-term consequences, even suggesting I might lose my job if I continued this way.

But Jude couldn’t help—his career evaluations and responsibilities consumed all of his attention. So, the weight of everything fell on my shoulders.

I gave everything to my daughter, but now, she seemed to favor Adele.

I lay there in the sterile quiet of the hospital room, the steady ticking of the machines around me a constant reminder of my isolation.

In that moment, everything felt pointless.