Chapter 2

02.

Andrea hung up the phone.

A second later, she messaged me a copy of a divorce settlement.

I looked at the terms; she essentially wanted me to leave with nothing but the clothes on my back.

Even though I knew she didn't love me, seeing those words felt like a thousand knives stabbing my chest.

And yet, she was the one who had pursued me first.

Ten years ago, I met Andrea at a high-end investment gala. Back then, she had won one minor award but hadn't produced anything significant since.

In a room full of elites, she was ignored and rejected. She didn't even have a seat at a table and was staring hungrily at the steak on my plate.

I bought her a meal. The next moment, she was in tears, gripping my hand and asking if I would be the lead in her next film.

I turned her down, but she started appearing everywhere in my life.

When it was cold, she reminded me to dress warmly. When it rained, she brought me an umbrella.

Even the lunch boxes I ate every day were made by her hand.

I was moved by her devotion and fell in love. We were married within a year.

After the wedding, Andrea had no income. I invited her to move into my house, but she claimed she didn't want to live off me and insisted we rent a place together.

For ten years, my income grew, but every penny went toward buying her filming equipment. Even the money for the wedding was scraped together from my personal savings.

And Andrea had destroyed my lifelong dream for the sake of a trophy.

I still remember the way her eyes lit up when she got that phone call, and the way she couldn't wait to leave me alone at our own wedding.

And then there was her speech, where she choked up while talking about her deep bond with Sebastian.

It sounded much more profound than anything we had shared in ten years.

All the strange, illogical things in our daily life suddenly made sense.

I grew up in the suburbs and hated spicy food, yet Andrea always forced me to eat at fiery Mexican joints.

She bought me countless white button-down shirts that I hated wearing.

She even ignored my alcohol sensitivity and bought me heavy colognes that made my head spin and my stomach churn.

I had protested. I had refused.

Every time, Andrea would give me the cold shoulder.

Then, when I finally gave in, she would offer me a small, pitying smile.

Now, looking at the public records of Sebastian Young, I realized he was the one who loved white shirts, spicy food, and that specific cologne.

I was nothing more than a ghost living in his shadow.

Yes, the wedding was my idea.

But Andrea, you were the one who suggested we get married in the beginning.

For this wedding, I lived frugally for years. I wouldn't even buy a new coat for the winter, only to be told I was being "dramatic."

Andrea, I'm exhausted.

This relationship ends today.