Chapter 1

On the day of our wedding anniversary, I stumbled upon an unusual display of azure-colored pyrotechnics on Abigail's secondary Instagram profile.

The accompanying text stated: [Fireworks may be temporary, but our bond is everlasting.]

Through a live broadcast, I caught snippets of their dialogue.

"Who do you prefer, me or your spouse?"

"You, without a doubt," Simon, my husband, promptly replied.

Shortly after, the post vanished, and Simon initiated a video call to showcase the fireworks in real-time.

"Happy anniversary! I arranged this surprise just for you!"

His words left me feeling hollow inside.

After concluding the call, I calmly dialed another number. "Brian, I've decided. I'm going to take that overseas job offer."

——

"Will Simon agree to let you go?" he inquired, sounding perplexed.

I inhaled deeply before answering, "Our relationship... it's nearing its end."

Following the call, I was so distracted that I accidentally spilled hot soup on myself. A large area of my arm turned scarlet, and small blisters began appearing. I mechanically searched for the first aid kit in the living room and began treating the burn myself.

Today marked our first year of marriage. Simon had assured me we'd celebrate together. In anticipation, I had joyfully prepared a romantic dinner for us this evening.

But no matter how long I waited, he never showed up.

If it weren't for Abigail's social media update, I would have remained oblivious to his disdain for our marriage.

It felt as though my heart was being pierced by countless pins.

I lay motionless on the couch until Simon returned, looking worn out.

"How did you manage to burn yourself like that?"

He noticed the redness on my arm as soon as he approached.

"It's nothing. Just an accident with some hot soup," I responded coldly.

Only then did he spot the elaborate meal laid out in the dining area. A flicker of remorse crossed his face.

"Let me help you with the medication."

Before I could object, he had already begun applying the ointment with a cotton swab and expertly bandaging the wound.

Since childhood, whenever I got hurt, it was always Simon who carefully tended to my injuries. After numerous occasions, he would often express frustration.

"Can't you be more careful? If something serious happens, you'll be the one suffering!"

Though his words seemed harsh, they were filled with concern. But at some point, that concern started to wane.

It was roughly a year ago when Abigail entered the picture and everything began to shift.

The first time I sensed something unusual between Simon and Abigail was just before our wedding.

He had never been particularly attached to his phone, but during that period, it became an extension of his hand.

When I casually inquired about it, he lashed out, "Valerie, what are you constantly thinking about? Abigail and I are just having normal conversations. Do you have to be so insecure?"

His response left me angry and tearful.

Seeing my distress, Simon softened his tone and gently reassured me, "Okay, from now on, I won't communicate with her anymore."

Right in front of me, he blocked and deleted her contact information. His apparent sincerity led me to lower my guard.

It wasn't until yesterday that I realized the truth. Their connection had never truly been severed.

My thoughts returned to the present moment.

After bandaging my arm, Simon took it upon himself to reheat our meal.

"There was an urgent matter at work that caused the delay. I'll make sure to come home earlier next time," Simon explained between bites.

I gave a noncommittal response, ate a little, and remained silent.

Then his phone started buzzing with incoming messages. I glanced at the screen and felt a bitter smile form on my lips.

[I've had too much to drink and can't remember my way back.]

[Simon, I'm feeling really scared.]

His expression changed almost immediately as he read through the messages.

"There's an emergency at the office. I need to step out for a while. You should get some rest," he declared and quickly stood up.