Chapter 1

On the day I turned fifty, I stumbled upon a secret on my husband's phone.

The search history was filled with one question: "How to last longer in bed?"

We had been married for over twenty years, but ever since our son was born, we had lived like roommates.

Seeing those endless search results now made my hands shake uncontrollably.

All those years of exhausting myself for this family felt like a cruel joke.

In the end, I realized that both my husband and my son had someone else in their hearts.

So, I calmly asked for a divorce, deciding to live only for myself from now on.

1

My husband, Donovan Sterling, called me while I was at the seafood market buying lobsters.

I grew up by the coast and loved seafood more than anything before I got married.

But Donovan and our son were allergic, so seafood had vanished from our home for decades.

Today, I suddenly didn't want to compromise anymore. I decided to buy whatever I craved.

"Bring a file to the firm for me," Donovan said in his usual commanding tone over the phone.

"And stop by that old bakery on the West Side to pick up two boxes of their chestnut macarons."

"Meryl―my colleagues love them. Make sure they are low-sugar."

We lived on the North Side. Going there and back would take at least two hours in traffic.

Besides, two-thirds of Donovan's firm were men who didn't even like sweets.

The name he almost let slip was Marilyn Gold, his first love.

She was a partner at the firm, and those macarons were her absolute favorite.

I didn't agree and rush out like I usually did.

Instead, I replied coldly, "I'm busy. Have your assistant, Lee, go get them."

Donovan was stunned into silence for a long moment, clearly not expecting a direct refusal.

His voice sharpened with irritation. "You're at home doing nothing all day. How are you busy?"

"Fine, I'll have the assistant get the file. You just go get the macarons so he doesn't have to make an extra trip."

He ignored my words as always, showing zero regard for my feelings.

A wave of bitterness washed over me, and I couldn't hold it back any longer.

"I said I'm busy, and I mean it. Donovan, do you have trouble understanding English?"

"I'm not delivering the file, and I'm definitely not buying those macarons! Whoever wants them can get them themselves!"

Donovan seemed startled by my sudden outburst.

He uncharacteristically softened his tone a bit. "Did you take the wrong meds today?"

"If you won't buy them, you won't. I'll send Lee. There's no need for such a temper!"

I didn't respond. I took a few deep breaths to steady my emotions.

Just as I was about to ask when he'd be home, I realized he had already hung up.

Half an hour later, I arrived home with my groceries just as his assistant arrived for the file.

Lee dropped off some peanut brittle and mentioned that Donovan and our son would be working late tonight.

I nodded as if I were used to it, signaling that I understood.

Then, I saw my son's Instagram post. He was celebrating a successful divorce case for Marilyn Gold.

In the photo, fifty-year-old Marilyn looked well-maintained, without a single wrinkle on her face.

She was leaning against Donovan, sitting between him and our son like they were one happy family.

It was clear that Donovan and my son had completely forgotten it was my birthday.

Thinking about their pathetic excuse of working late, tears fell without warning.

I suddenly felt that my twenty years of sacrifice were nothing but a tragedy.

I wiped my tears and continued eating my lavish seafood feast alone.

Memories flashed through my mind of a life spent orbiting my husband and son.

For the rest of my days, I would live for myself.