Chapter 2

The next day, I went to my in-laws' house empty-handed.

As usual, when I stepped inside, my mother-in-law, Winter Sutton, was already busy in the kitchen, while William was still with my father-in-law, David Lane, drinking coffee and playing chess.

The moment I opened the door, all three of them lost their smiles, as if my arrival had blown it all away.

William quickly pasted on a look of pain. His acting was terrible, but it still fooled everyone around.

David snorted and pointed at me angrily. "You rude fellow! Why didn't you knock before coming in? You've given Will a scare! Apologize to him right now!"

I ignored him and went straight to the couch.

"Steven! Didn't I tell you to bring some supplements?" Winter's voice cut through the air like a knife, and she flung the spatula in her hand at me. "Go! Get in the kitchen and cook! I'm exhausted!"

In the past, as long as I was around, I would never let Winter cook. I'd even make her a bowl of chicken soup and have her sit back and rest.

And every time, all I got in return was her complaining—saying I wasn't good enough, that a grown man like me shouldn't be in the kitchen, nothing like William, who had already built a career for himself.

I set the spatula down on the table and said nothing.

"Where's Sandra?" I asked.

Winter got upset and came straight at me, pointing and yelling. In her anger, she slapped me. "How dare you ask about Sandie? Don't you know what kind of mess you've made?"

I lifted my eyes to hers. The humility I used to carry was gone, replaced only by heavy disappointment.

Although I was their son-in-law, all I ever received were orders and outbursts. To them, I was just someone to dump everything on—the work, the blame, the insults.

I had only come today to settle the divorce with Sandra. I didn't come here to pick a fight with them.

Even after all these years of being yelled at and pushed around, I still treated them like elders and chose not to stoop to their level. I never expected them to take it even further.

All I did was ask a simple question, and I got slapped for it—just to stand up for Sandra's so-called childhood sweetheart.

A stranger might think William was actually their son-in-law.

"Alright, it's not worth getting worked up over him. After all, you're his elders. Steven's probably just upset about something."

Winter and David, who had just been ready to tear me apart, suddenly calmed down as if William's words carried real weight.

With a triumphant grin on his face, William said to me, "You're here to see Sandra, right? I'll call her."

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and called her.

I had tried all morning to reach her, sending message after message, but none got through. Yet William's call connected instantly.

William shot me a smug look, like he was the one who truly belonged there—and I was just an outsider.

He spoke in a low, sugary tone, carrying on like he and Sandra were the real married couple, flirting openly as if no one else was there.

Every so often, he glanced at me, waiting to see me crack.

If it had been before, I would've leaped at him in a rage. But now, I remained seated, motionless, as if I hadn't heard a thing. My heart had already been broken too many times.

The wounds had long since closed over, leaving me numb. And all the love I had once held for Sandra—she had erased it herself.

I turned my gaze elsewhere. Then my eyes locked on the photograph on the table.

It had once been our wedding photo. I could still remember the happiness on her face that day. But now, it was still a wedding shot—only the groom had changed. William, who was on the phone, was in my place, holding the bride in his arms.

Sandra wore the white wedding dress I had spent a fortune having made for her. I'd learned everything from scratch, worked with professional designers, and refined it until it was perfect.

On the day I gave it to her, I smiled and said, "Honey, this is the dress I personally designed for you. It's a symbol of our love—and of the thousand-and-first time I finally convinced you to be mine."

I could still remember her face full of joy, remember her collapsing into my arms, crying, and telling me she'd only wear the dress for me alone.

And now, in the photograph, she leaned against William, wearing that very dress.

I couldn't help but clench my hands so tightly that my knuckles cracked. Betrayal, anger, confusion, sorrow—all hit me at once. And yet, somehow, a faint, bitter smile crept onto my lips. I had loved such a worthless woman.

The sound of the door opening snapped me back to the moment.

Sandra rushed in, shielding William behind her. Her eyes were icy as they landed on me. "Will, don't worry. I won't let Steven push you around!"

I looked at her, about to demand an explanation. Why had she worn the wedding dress she promised only to wear for me for someone else? Why had she taken wedding photos with another man?

But Sandra ignored me completely. She turned toward William, checking him over from head to toe. "Will, did Steven hurt you? It's okay. I'll make him pay."

Her worry for William seemed to erase all awareness of my presence. She pressed herself to him, murmuring anxiously.

I remembered last year's car accident. I had been hospitalized with a leg injury for ten days. Sandra never visited once. The only person at my side was the caregiver I had paid for.

When I recovered, I asked why she hadn't come. She had replied matter-of-factly, "You're a grown man—why are you being so delicate? I was busy. You're capable of taking care of yourself, aren't you?"

And now, William was hurt, and everyone attended to him. When he got sick, my in-laws stayed with him day and night. Sandra, who had always been busy, too, had taken time off to care for him. The difference between love and indifference was painfully clear.

I swallowed every question that rose to my lips. It didn't matter what I asked—the love that had vanished was gone for good.

With that in mind, I pulled a folder from my briefcase and set it in front of her, my voice cold and resolute. "Sandra, let's get a divorce!"