Chapter 3

I went to order some burn cream online.

But the first thing I saw was a new post from her assistant, Silas Young.

The picture was taken from the passenger seat of Willow's car. The bowl of porridge was in his lap.

The caption read: "The best millet porridge. Tastes a little sweet."

So he had been waiting for her in the parking garage. No wonder she had been in such a hurry.

It was three in the afternoon when Willow came home with the empty container.

She saw the pot in the sink and started to complain. "Kael, you were home all day. Why didn't you wash this? And after I went out and got you an anniversary gift, too."

She tossed a gift box at me. It was a bottle of expensive cologne.

But I had seen that brand on Silas's social media before.

His caption: "Buy one, get one free. Too bad the free one isn't my style. Not sweet enough."

I looked at the bottle. It was a cold, musky scent. So I was only worthy of his cast-offs.

I didn't say anything, but my cold expression made her face darken.

"You don't like it? I never knew you were so picky, Kael."

Picky? The word was a knife in my heart.

My eyes snapped to her face.

In high school, I was obsessed with painting. I didn't care about clothes or socializing. The other kids called me "weirdo."

That label followed me for three years. I had no friends, only insults.

Back then, Willow was the only one who would stand up for me.

I had a secret crush on her for three years. I thought she was my savior.

But now, she was the one reopening old wounds.

"That's not what I meant, Kael," she said, realizing her mistake.

I just laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. The shining girl from my memories was starting to blur.

Maybe it was just the tears in my eyes.

"I didn't mean to say that," she said, her voice frantic.

"Do you even have a heart, Willow? Why do you have to be so cruel?"

To wear down my love for you. The rest of the sentence died on my lips. I had never been anything but good to her.

After we got married, I did everything she asked.

She didn't want to be a housewife. She wanted to start her own company. I didn't know anything about business, but I went to every networking event with her, took every drink for her.

I once ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning, but I never complained.

When she found out she couldn't have children, she cried and begged me not to leave her.

I felt so sorry for her. I took the blame, telling both our families that I was the one who was infertile.

Her parents almost beat me. They said I had tricked their daughter. They made me sign an unfair prenup.

I would have done anything for her.

All because of one memory. One day, in high school, some bullies were making fun of me. The whole class was laughing.

She was the only one who didn't. She stood up and said, "Stop bullying him. The teacher said that geniuses are often like this."

"A genius? More like an idiot, right guys?" the bullies jeered.

She didn't say anything else. She just walked through the crowd and stood by my side.

She was the love of my life.