Chapter 2

"Stay-at-home dads have no confidence. He'll crack in a few days. You've got this, OP."

As I read the cruel words on the screen, the blood in my veins seemed to freeze. At last, I was certain—the woman who shared my bed every night, the wife I'd dedicated myself to, was the very same poster who was plotting against her husband online.

But I didn't expose Rachel. Instead, I played into her expectations, acting day after day as the frugal, dutiful stay-at-home husband. I let her believe her scheme was flawless and everything was under her control.

By the third week without any financial support, our dinner table had been filled with bland vegetarian dishes for days.

Staring at the stir-fried cabbage and boiled potato in front of her, Rachel finally snapped. She slammed her fork onto the table and roared, "Peter Freeman, what the hell is this? I work hard all day, and this is the meal I come home to?"

As I patiently fed Brian, I replied without even looking up, "My savings are almost gone, so I have to be careful with money. Besides, you're the one who said we're in this together. If we can save money, we should."

Rachel flushed red with anger. Unable to argue back, all she could do was let out a cold snort. She grabbed her car keys and then stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

An entire month passed. I didn't break down, and I certainly did not give in. Instead, I kept the house running smoothly and took excellent care of Brian, who grew healthier and chubbier day by day.

Watching me remain calm and composed when she'd been waiting for me to fall apart, Rachel finally lost her patience. Late one night, she called me into the living room, putting on an exhausted expression.

"Peter, we need to talk." She let out a long sigh, playing helplessness to perfection. Her voice carried feigned weariness.

"Talk about what?" I met her gaze calmly.

"We should get divorced." She lowered her head, her tone firm. "I've thought about it carefully. We're just not right for each other."

I silently watched her clumsy performance and put on a look of confusion. "Why would you suddenly say that?"

"You've been a stay-at-home dad for years. You don't earn any income. All of the financial pressure is on me. And your parents are old and frail. They can't help us, and they can't support my career in any way. I'm exhausted."

I sneered inwardly and waited for her real objective. "So?"

"So, let's divorce. After the divorce, I'll raise Brian."

She suddenly looked up, her intense gaze revealing her true intention.

"My financial situation is far better than yours. I can give him the best living conditions and education opportunities. You're still young. Without a child holding you back, it'll be easier for you to start over and remarry."

I stared at her cold, hypocritical face and curled my lips into a cold smile. "Rachel, I raised our son with my own hands. No matter how hard it gets, I'll raise him myself. He's not a burden to me."

"How are you going to raise him?" She instantly lost her composure, her voice rising sharply. "You don't have a job. You don't have an income. You can't even afford decent diapers! If he stays with you, he'll only suffer!"

"That's none of your concern," I said steadily. "Even if I have to live frugally, I'll never let my child suffer."

Rachel finally dropped the act and pointed at me furiously. "Don't be ridiculous! This divorce is happening, and custody belongs to me!"

I cut her off, my tone firm and unwavering, "We can get divorced. But I will never let you have custody."