Chapter 3

I wiped away the dark red stains on the floor mat.

Harry pulled the car up below my office building and rolled down the window.

“I’ll pick you up after work tonight.”

“No need. I’ll be late today.”

Without looking back, I walked straight into the building.

Throughout the morning, I handed over every single one of my active projects to my colleagues.

The HR manager looked at my resignation letter in utter surprise.

“You’re really leaving? Does your husband know about this?”

Everyone here knew I was Harry’s wife.

When the firm hit a crisis years ago, it was the inheritance left by my parents that I used to plug his financial hole.

I shook my head.

“Personal reasons. Please process the paperwork as soon as possible.”

I returned home early in the afternoon to pack my luggage.

I pushed open the door to find broken branches and shattered leaves scattered across the living room floor.

It was the bush lily I had nurtured for three full years.

During our first year of marriage, Harry had bought it for me at an auction for a steep price.

He said that it was a delicate flower—just like me, requiring tender, meticulous care.

Now, it had been uprooted and reduced to pieces.

Evelyn was crouching on the floor with a pair of pruning shears in her hands.

Catching sight of me, she stood up and brushed the dirt from her palms.

“Jane, you’re back just in time.”

She pointed at the wreckage on the floor.

“I thought your plant looked a bit pest-infested, so I helped you prune it.

“Guess I got a bit carried away.” She said as she locked eyes with me.

“You’re not gonna be mad, are you?”

I walked over, crouched down, and picked up a shredded leaf.

The foliage was perfectly healthy, without a single pest in sight.

“Jane, what’s going on?”

The sound of the front door opening came from the foyer—Harry had left work early and returned.

He changed his shoes and walked into the living room, his steps faltering when he saw the horrifying mess.

Evelyn immediately rushed up to grab his sleeve.

“Harry, I didn’t do it on purpose.

“I only wanted to help Jane tend to her plant. Who knew it was so fragile? It snapped the moment I touched it.”

Her eyes turned red and she sounded like a hurt kitten.

“Jane seems really mad.”

Harry looked down at the ruined lily, then turned to look at me crouching on the floor.

He walked over and pulled my arm, attempting to lift me up.

“Come on, the floor is cold. It’s just a pot of flowers—I’ll have the store deliver a better one tomorrow.”

He stared into my eyes.

“Evelyn was only trying to be helpful. Don’t hold it against her.”

I let myself be pulled up, dusting the soil off my hands.

“Alright.” I looked straight into his eyes, my tone deadly calm.

“I won’t hold it against her.”

Harry froze in place.

He was used to the old me—arguing passionately over every small detail, asking him with bloodshot eyes why he was so protective of Evelyn.

My current composure made him distinctly uncomfortable.

“You… really are not mad?”

“Nope.”

I walked past him toward the storage closet, pulling out a broom and a dustpan.

Bit by bit, I swept up the dirt and broken leaves from the floor until it was spotless.

Harry stood there watching me for a moment, letting out what seemed like a sigh of relief.

“It’s good you’re chill about it. We’re family, right? No need to ruin our peace over a pot of flowers.”

He turned to wash his hands.

“By the way, tomorrow is our wedding anniversary.

“I’ve reserved a table at Sky Garden. Let’s have dinner together tomorrow night.”

I emptied the trash into the bin, another sharp spasm gripping my stomach.

“Alright.”

That night, I folded my clothes one by one and packed them neatly into my suitcase.

I actually owned remarkably few belongings. Most of what I had were things Harry had bought for me.

Those expensive pieces of jewelry and designer bags—I didn’t take a single one.

Instead I only grabbed a few old outfits given me by my parents, along with my personal identity documents.

With everything packed, I lay down on the hard mattress in the guest bedroom.

At three in the morning, I coughed up a mouthful of blood, dark crimson staining the white pillowcase.

I pulled myself up, stripped the pillowcase off, and threw it into the bathroom trash bin.

I washed my face with freezing cold water, staring at the corpse-pale reflection in the mirror.

Tomorrow, everything would finally come to an end.