Chapter 3

"Chloe, how could you say that? Yale and I have been married for five years without a child. That's my fault. Now that Ms. Leeds is pregnant and carrying on the Gibson family line, it's a true blessing for everyone," I said calmly.

My words stunned everyone in the room.

The faint smile on Yale's face vanished instantly, and he instinctively loosened his arm around Willow's waist.

Even Chloe stared at me in disbelief. "Have you lost your mind?"

She had expected me to make a scene and eventually get thrown out of the house.

Keeping a warm smile on my face, I set down the gift I had brought. Then, I turned to Willow and said, "Ms. Leeds, this is a little something for you. I hope you like it."

In the past, Yale hated it whenever I got jealous and made a fuss. But now, my heart was full of genuine blessings for Willow's pregnancy. I was the dignified, graceful wife he'd always wanted me to be. Surely, he had to be thrilled.

I ran my fingers over the divorce papers tucked inside my bag. Hopefully, when Yale was in a better mood, he would sign the papers without a fuss. After all, I didn't want things to turn as ugly as they had last time.

To my surprise, Yale's scowl only deepened. He glared at me for a few long seconds, his voice heavy with suppressed rage. "Go find a seat! You're keeping the whole family waiting. Don't you have any manners?"

I nodded submissively without defending myself and quietly walked over to an empty seat in the far corner of the living room.

A wave of confusion washed over me. Why was Yale still unhappy?

Not that it mattered. If he was in a bad mood today, I could just get him to sign them another day. I wasn't in any rush anyway.

…

Yale spent the entire evening close to Willow, while I watched him dote on her with tenderness from the other end of the dining table.

The truth was, Yale used to be just as sweet to me.

When my period cramps were at their worst, he'd hold me tight, sniffling as he warmed my lower abdomen. He'd brave the freezing wind and snow for two hours just to bring me the food I craved.

He had even lit up the whole city with fireworks and proposed to me under a night sky that burned bright as day.

That was why the past five years without him had felt so unbearably painful.

Without the title of Mrs. Gibson, I had nothing.

To make a living, I washed dishes at a restaurant until my hands pruned white from detergent. I also worked odd jobs at construction sites, where the scorching sun left my skin peeling. At my lowest point, I couldn't even afford a warm meal and could only survive on stale bread.

When Yale finally tracked me down, I was working as a waitress at a small diner. A drunk customer was pointing a finger in my face, hurling insults at me, and trying to force me to drink.

Yale stood at the entrance in his tailored suit, completely out of place amid the chaos. He looked at me with a complicated look in his eyes. Instead of blaming me, he asked if I was willing to remarry him.

I agreed without a second thought, not because I still loved him, but because I was terrified of going back to that life—one where I was poor, desperate, and at everyone's mercy.

To repay him for giving me a better life, I tried my best to be the perfect wife he wanted—sweet-tempered, understanding, and never jealous.

But even after dinner, I still couldn't find the right time to hand him the divorce papers.

Disappointed, I stood by the entrance waiting for Yale so we could head home together, only to learn that he and Willow were staying the night.

"You should go home," Yale said.

His fringe obscured his eyes, so I couldn't read his expression. I simply nodded and turned around to leave.

Just as I stepped outside, his voice called out from behind me. "Sarah?"

I turned around and looked at him in confusion.

Yale opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He rubbed his brow, looking troubled. After a long pause, he finally said, "Forget it. Just text me when you get home."