Chapter 3

She knew I valued rituals, yet she insisted on making up for them after the fact.

She always did this—casually using gifts to cover up conflicts, as if my pain didn't matter at all.

I pushed the divorce agreement toward her. "Sign it."

She paused, then a smile rippled in her eyes.

"So obedient? You know I'm going to marry Robinson?"

My fingertips trembled violently.

She seemed oblivious, took the document, and signed her name smoothly.

"He's young and sees me as his whole world. He's begging to marry me—I don't want to disappoint him."

"You did well. What reward do you want? After the baby is born, we can travel as a family of three, okay?"

She reached out to touch my face.

I dodged calmly, my tone flat. "There won't be a baby."

Her fingers froze, her probing gaze falling on my face.

"You know how hard it was for us to have this child. Don't say things like that anymore."

She probably thought I didn't know the child was already gone and still had to pretend to cherish it.

I laughed bitterly.

I thought only I remembered.

I remembered the pain and devastation when she miscarried our first child eight years ago after drinking at a business dinner with me.

I remembered how I felt—guilty and lost—when the doctor said she'd have difficulty conceiving again.

I remembered her day and night companionship and comfort, saying that a lifetime with just the two of us would be good too.

I remembered eight years of hoping and disappointment while trying to conceive together.

I remembered crying tears of joy when we finally had our second child.

The vows still echoed in my ears, yet now she had thrown the child away herself.

She stared at my smile and suddenly asked, "Why are you crying?"

I was startled. I raised my hand and indeed felt coldness all over my face.

Her expression became complicated, her tone softening.

"Don't worry, no one can replace your position in my heart."

"I'll only hold the ceremony without getting a marriage license. Once I've appeased him, I'll remarry you."

I looked at her deeply. "Didn't you say you'd reward me? Travel with me. Let's leave now—don't wait for the baby to be born."

She avoided my gaze. "I still need to prepare for the wedding..."

"I understand." I nodded.

I was too calm. Panic flashed in her eyes, and for once she explained: "I'm just afraid if we go now, I won't be able to focus on you..."

Before she finished speaking, her phone suddenly rang.

A young man said tearfully that he woke up and couldn't find her. Her voice immediately changed pitch as she coaxed him while walking toward the door.

At the doorway, she covered the phone and tossed out "I'll go with you next time," then hurriedly disappeared through the entrance.

The words "next time" opened up a vast distance between us.

I dialed a number that had been dormant for a long time.

"Dad, I want to come home."

"How about I give you the Muriel Group as a welcome-home gift?"

I began packing my luggage, preparing for a farewell trip.

The end of a ten-year marriage also needed a ritual.

It wasn't until I zipped up my suitcase that I saw Muriel's message.

"Robinson likes this house. Move out—I need to redecorate it as our wedding home."

My heart felt like it was being crushed by needles, pain spreading densely through it.

Ten years was truly too long—so long that she'd forgotten this house was the one I bought with all my savings back then.

When we got married, she had nothing. Forget buying a house—she couldn't even afford a wedding.

We only registered our marriage.

I didn't mind, but she cried more pitifully than I did, her voice shaking.

"You're giving up your comfortable life as heir to the Leonardo Group—what exactly do you see in me?"

I smiled. "I see your true heart."

She buried her face in my chest and swore: "I will never betray you in this lifetime."