Chapter 2

Vince and I settled into a cold war. He stopped coming home, and I stopped asking where he was.

On the third morning, his assistant texted me with an update.

[Mrs. Doyle, Mr. Doyle has been tied up with work these past few days. He just got back from an overseas business trip this morning.]

I replied, [You don't need to keep me updated anymore.]

I scrolled through our conversation and found message after message from me asking where Vince was.

I talked to his assistant more than I talked to my own husband.

A moment later, another message appeared.

[Did you and Mr. Doyle have a fight?]

I didn't respond, but the assistant kept going.

[Mr. Doyle must care about you. A man like him never would've pursued you otherwise.]

I blinked.

It was true. Vince was the one who wanted to marry me.

He had always been reserved, but back then, he still made an effort to spend time with me. His eyes used to follow me wherever I went, and he never hesitated to tell me how beautiful I was.

Somehow, our marriage still hadn't turned out the way I hoped.

More messages came through.

[Mr. Doyle knows today is your birthday. He even bought you a gift, the bracelet you've been wanting.]

A photo followed, and it really was the one.

I had mentioned it to him for months. I never thought he would remember.

For a moment, something stirred in my chest.

I sighed, then went into the kitchen and made all his favorite dishes.

Vince came home that evening. He loosened his tie and headed straight for his study.

I called out to him. He finally turned around with a frown.

"What is it?"

His voice was as cold as ever.

My breathing grew uneven, and my fingers tightened around the edge of the table. "Do you know what today is?"

His brow furrowed. "What?"

My chest tightened as I forced out the words. "It's my birthday."

He gave a small nod as he unbuttoned his cuffs. "That's today? I forgot."

That was all he said.

My throat tightened. It felt as though a wet blanket had been draped over me, heavy enough to smother me.

He glanced at me.

"I'll make it up to you next month. It's not like birthdays have to be celebrated. There's no point wasting money on them."

But only seconds later, I saw a post Lauren shared an hour earlier. The photo showed the bracelet I had wanted for months, along with several other expensive gifts.

Her caption read, [Thanks, hubby! Just kidding. He's actually my boss.]

Vince commented beneath it. [You earned it.]

My lips twisted as I remembered all the times I had asked him to like or comment on my posts, only for him to refuse.

He always said it was childish and inappropriate. So what was this?

My hand began to shake around my phone. "So you do know how to comment on someone's posts. Did you enjoy giving her the gift I've always wanted?"

He frowned, took the phone from my hand, and tapped the screen a few times.

"If her posts bother you, mute her. The gift was just a way of showing appreciation for her work. It'll motivate her to keep doing a good job. She earned it by working hard. Unlike you, sitting around the house doing nothing all day."

I went completely still, as though he had slapped me.

He worked late, skipped meals, and was always complaining about his stomach. He claimed my cooking was the only thing that helped.

That was why I quit my job and stayed home to take care of him.

I spent years at the top of my class. I even received an offer to study abroad. I could've built a life of my own.

So how did I end up here?

He said he loved me first, but why was I the only one who had given up everything for it?

I pressed a hand to my chest, struggling to breathe. My throat tightened until I couldn't force out a single word.

Vince didn't even look at me. His gaze drifted to the food on the table.

His voice was still edged with irritation.

"And since you're home all day, couldn't you at least put some effort into your cooking? Everything tastes so bland. One look at it, and I lose my appetite."

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

Of course. After getting used to eating with Lauren, my cooking probably seemed tasteless to him.

A moment later, the study door slammed shut. The sound echoed through the house.

I stood alone in the empty living room. I lowered my eyes, gathered every dish from the table, and dumped the food into the trash.