Chapter 1

It was New Year's Eve, and I couldn't even afford the fifty-dollar copay for my daughter's medicine.

I stood at the hospital's billing window, holding my feverish little girl, feeling completely helpless.

I called my husband, only to receive a cold, indifferent response.

"Just go home and sleep it off. Spending money on medicine is a total waste," he said.

When I stepped out of the hospital, I ran into him and Lydia outside a five-star steakhouse. Lydia was his ex-girlfriend who had just moved back to the States after her divorce.

Lydia smirked at me. "I told Mason he should be with you and the baby tonight, but he insisted on having New Year's dinner with me."

"He even brought me a New Year's gift."

The diamond ring on her finger was blindingly bright.

Looking at my frail daughter in my arms, I finally snapped. "Mason, let's get a divorce."

"Cora, have you lost your mind?"

"Take the kid and go home right now. Don't ruin my mood on New Year's Eve."

Mason pulled a few crumpled bills from his wallet and tossed them at me with a look of pure disgust.

The thin bills fluttered to the ground, quickly getting soaked in the slushy mud.

He grabbed Lydia's hand and walked away without a single backward glance.

I crouched down, clutching my daughter with one arm while struggling to pick up the wet cash with the other.

As I looked at the money in my hand, my eyes began to sting.

I wiped my tears, pretending everything was fine, and hailed a cab to take us home.

Once we got home, my daughter took some medicine I had borrowed from a neighbor and finally fell into a deep sleep.

I sat in the living room, looking at our cold, empty house. There wasn't a single holiday decoration in sight.

A sudden chill swept through my entire body.

A home that should have been filled with laughter only held me and my sick child.

I looked up at our wedding photo on the wall, feeling utterly confused.

How did things between Mason and me turn out like this?

I stayed by my daughter's side all night.

Finally, just as the sun was beginning to rise, her fever broke.

I tucked the blanket around her tiny feet.

I had just finished making some warm chicken broth and set it on the table when I heard the front door open.

Mason walked in looking exhausted, but there was a faint, satisfied smile on his face.

He froze for a second when he saw me coming out of the kitchen.

Then, he opened his arms as if to pull me into a hug. "I missed your cooking so much," he said.

This was his usual way of trying to charm me after a fight.

But then I saw the lipstick smudge on his collar. The sickly sweet scent of perfume hit my nose.

I slapped his reaching hand away.

Mason's brow furrowed, and his tone turned sharp. "Cora, what is wrong with you now?"

My daughter wasn't in the room, so I didn't want to hold back anymore.

"The smell of that perfume on you makes me want to vomit."

Mason immediately snapped back. "Don't start with me, Cora. You're being ridiculous."

"You're just throwing a tantrum because I spent New Year's Eve with Lydia."

"How many times do I have to tell you? She's all alone here after her divorce. We grew up together. What's so wrong with me keeping her company?"

I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white. "Our daughter was sick last night. As her father, shouldn't you have been here?"

Mason acted as if he were the one being wronged. "Lydia has a PhD from a top university. She told me kids get over fevers by sleeping. You're just a housewife, you don't know anything!"

I was about to scream at him when his phone on the table started buzzing.

The moment I saw the look of tenderness in Mason's eyes, I knew it was Lydia.

"Lydia? Your stomach hurts?"

"You want some soup? I'll bring some over right away."

Mason hung up and looked at me with a cold expression. "Put that soup in a thermos immediately. Also, find some stomach medicine. I'm taking it to Lydia."

"She's in pain. She can't cook for herself."

I grabbed the bowl of soup and pulled it back. "There's no medicine here."

"I made this for our daughter. If she's hungry, she can figure it out herself."

Mason scowled. Seeing that I wasn't backing down, he threw off his coat and marched into the kitchen.

I watched him struggle with a knife, his movements awkward and unskilled.

In the six years since we met and got married, this was the first time he had ever stepped foot in the kitchen to cook.

His head was so full of Lydia that he didn't even flinch when hot oil splashed onto his hand.

Since Lydia returned, Mason had changed more than I could have imagined.

He used to never work late, but now he spent every night locked in his home office.

Standing outside the door, I would often hear him laughing at his phone.

He never used to care about his appearance, but now he was buying expensive colognes.

He even started posting cute, mysterious photos on social media―something he never did before.