Chapter 1

Everyone claims that Scott Kennedy, the youthful successor to one of California's most prominent families, wed a simpleton.

Regrettably, I'm the alleged simpleton they can't cease discussing.

I never truly grasped the concept of "first love" until someone remarked, "Scott's first love is his soulmate. And you? You're merely the simpleton he was compelled to marry."

I couldn't contain myself. I crumbled, sobbing uncontrollably and collapsing to the ground like a child throwing a fit.

For truly, what other recourse did I have?

I am a simpleton—or at least that's all anyone appears to believe. Yet even after all that, he still brought her back.

"You're so innocent and good-natured," he said, almost beseeching as if requesting a favor. "Please, allow her to stay. Alright?"

Everyone labels me a simpleton, but even a simpleton like me comprehends one basic truth—my spouse is supposed to be mine alone.

If Scott begins falling for another, then... I no longer want him.

...

During the evening meal, Scott Kennedy kept piling dish after dish for his first love, Jessica Smith.

For the past four weeks, this had become our norm—him showering her with attention while I remained in the background. Despite witnessing it repeatedly, I couldn't help but marvel at her. Jessica was stunning—twinkling eyes, perfect teeth, and raven hair that cascaded like a waterfall.

Every grin, every slight frown, seemed to entrance those around her. As I sat there, absorbed in my thoughts, Jessica noticed my staring.

She smiled warmly, her voice as gentle as a whisper. "Nadia, why aren't you eating?"

Then Jessica glanced at Scott, who was seated beside me, and said, "Don't fuss over me, Scott. I'll help myself if I need anything. You should take care of Nadia. What if she doesn't eat enough?"

Scott looked over at Jessica and said, "It's okay, Jessica. She can't tolerate spicy food. She'll stick to her small portion."

Then he turned back to me, the same indulgent expression on his face, and tousled my hair as if I were a child. "Nadia, is something amiss? Don't you enjoy today's dishes?" Scott inquired softly, his voice laced with worry. "If you don't eat well now, there won't be any treats tonight, okay?"

The manner in which he spoke—gentle and coaxing, as though addressing a child—hurt more than it should have. I kept my eyes fixed on the small bowl of food before me, the sorrow in my heart growing heavier with each passing moment.

There was a time when I didn't mind Scott's way of speaking to me. Back then, I found his care and attention comforting, even endearing. But now? Now it irritated me.

I no longer wanted to be treated like a child.

Ever since Jessica moved into this house, everything seemed to revolve around her, including the meals. The table was always laden with her favorite spicy foods that overwhelmed my taste buds.

I had been raised on mild, bland foods, and my stomach couldn't handle anything too intense. Although we all dined at the same table from that day on, my meals were separate from theirs.

The sight of my small, plain bowl next to their colorful, fragrant dishes only deepened the divide I felt between me and the rest of the household. It was as if the table itself mirrored my place in their world—separate, isolated, an afterthought.

Jessica arched an eyebrow, smiling playfully. "Auntie, you really don't need to go to such lengths for me. Nadia's not accustomed to this kind of food." She turned to Scott's mom, Martha, and added, "Let's keep it simple for Nadia. I enjoy mild dishes too, so it's no bother."

Martha shot me a glance before looking back at Jessica. "You're too considerate, Jessica. What does a simpleton like her know, anyway?"

Then, with a sigh, Martha's tone softened further. "I've always been fond of you, my dear. Seeing you with Scott brings me such joy." She let out a small laugh, dripping with thinly veiled affection. "I still can't fathom what his grandfather was thinking, making Scott marry her…"

Scott slammed his utensils on the table with a loud clatter, startling everyone.

"Mom," he addressed her firmly, his voice cutting through the room. "I've told you—stop calling her a simpleton. She's my wife."

He then turned his attention to me, his gaze gentler. "And stop making vague remarks. Nadia and I are married. That's the end of it."

I bit down on my lip, fighting back tears. Without a word, I pushed back my chair and moved to the sofa, not wanting to remain at the table any longer. Martha's dislike for me wasn't new. I'd always known she didn't approve of me.

But honestly, it wasn't just her. Everyone around Scott said the same thing—that he married a simpleton. A genius and a simpleton. That's how they perceived us—a mismatched pair in every way.

And unfortunately, I'm the simpleton.

There was a time when Martha concealed her disdain, at least in public. After all, my marriage to Scott was arranged by his grandfather, Donald Kennedy.