Chapter 2

In truth, I had not been angry that Lauren forgot my birthday.

I had stopped loving her long ago, and I no longer expected anything from her.

I was only angry at that foolish version of myself who had given seven years of my life away.

Endless housework, a chaotic workspace, cups and plates left behind by worthless friends, a wife who abandoned her bike and slept soundly through it all…

I endured it.

Being summoned and scolded on a whim, a lonely and monotonous life…

I endured that too.

Because of love, I had become the very kind of person I never wanted to be before marriage.

Everyone praised me for being good.

I truly had been too good and far too foolish.

Under my care, Lauren had grown into a confident adult-sized infant.

Did she really believe that all the glory she took pride in had been earned by herself alone?

Without me by her side, handling every race and every commercial engagement, how could she have advanced without distraction as she had?

I grieved for those seven years I had thrown away.

Lauren tried to placate me. I pushed her hand aside and handed her a folder.

“What is this?” She opened it, and her face changed instantly.

“You want to divorce me?”

She let the divorce agreement fall to the floor.

Perhaps my silence in the past had been cowardice, but today, my calm was clarity.

“We’ve been married for seven years. Life keeps getting better, and yet you want a divorce?”

She pointed at me, just as she had done countless times over the years.

“Are our lives better?” I asked calmly.

“You’re the one going anywhere. I’ve been your obedient lapdog for seven years straight.”

I questioned her evenly, as if she had just made the greatest joke.

“You don’t have to work. You don’t have to fight your way through the workplace. You just do housework. And what do you mean by “lapdog”?”

A smug look spread openly across her face.

“I’ve already defended my championship title. Do you know how high my commercial value is?

“If you divorce me now, you won’t get anything.”

I looked into her eyes and could no longer find the girl I once cherished.

“Lauren, I didn’t care about money when I married you, and I don’t care now.”

“Lauren! Come have something to eat,” Sean’s voice called from outside the door, and both of us fell silent.

Not putting our mess on display for outsiders was the last unspoken understanding we shared.

“Don’t act on impulse, Owen. Let’s talk properly tonight,” Lauren said, as if she had recovered a measure of reason, her tone softening.

“I’m going to eat. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow for your birthday.”

With that, she left.

When the door opened, I saw her tilt her head and smile up at Sean, two small dimples appearing on her cheeks.

My phone chimed with a new message.

I tapped on an avatar made up of a simple symbol.

Beneath the birthday wishes and cake photo I had sent the night before, there was now a reply.

[Thank you. Wishing you happiness too.]

I smiled, did not respond, and instead opened my social feed, replaying a video of a doctoral graduation ceremony again and again.

By the time I left the study, everyone had already left.

Sean, however, was still sitting in the living room.

“Owen,” Sean said.

He had never addressed me the way the others did.

So casual. So careless.

“The dorm has a curfew. Could you let me stay the night?”

I glanced at Lauren, who looked lifeless on the couch.

She waved her hand dismissively.

“Why even ask? If you don’t sleep here, where would you go?”

Sean immediately stood up and twisted open the door to the guest bedroom.

After opening it, he exclaimed, “Is all this prepared just for me? Aww, Lauren, you’re so good to me!”

Lauren froze for a moment, then turned to me and said awkwardly, “That’s where Owen sleeps.”

“Bro what?” Sean shouted exaggeratedly. “You and Owen don’t sleep together?”

He seemed completely unaware that this was deeply private.

A flicker of discomfort crossed Lauren’s face.

I walked over and smiled as I explained.

“She cycles from five in the morning until ten at night every day. I can’t handle that schedule.”

That was only one reason.

Using exhaustion from training as an excuse, Lauren had avoided intimacy with me for two years.

At first, I had argued.

Later, I went numb.

“Sorry, there aren’t any spare rooms left. You should stay at a hotel,” I said, closing the guest bedroom door casually and denying him any glimpse of my room.

Lauren hurriedly added, “It’s fine. It’s dangerous for him to stay alone in a hotel. Let him sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

I lowered my gaze and said nothing.

On the nights she competed out of town, I had handled her logistics and booked separate rooms myself so she could rest well.

She had never once worried about me.

Seeing my expression change, Sean quickly jumped in.

“I’m kidding. I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s just one night.”

It was clear Lauren felt sorry for him, but she didn’t dare go too far.

That night, I went to bed first.

Lauren and Sean were laughing about something in the living room.

She seemed to have already forgotten about the divorce.

I wasn’t in a hurry.

I opened a secondhand marketplace app and browsed.

The road bike Lauren had bought me had already sold for six thousand dollars.

I immediately searched for another user’s ID and placed an order on her page for a secondhand bag.

Exactly six thousand dollars.