The next day.

I spent the entire afternoon lost in my studio, painting.

Ever since I’d discovered Julian was having an affair with his secretary, I had tried everything.

I had screamed, I had interrogated him, I had even threatened to kill myself, demanding he break things off with Lily.

None of it worked.

Back then, he would just pinch the bridge of his nose, looking at me with those complicated eyes.

“Chloe, in our world, every guy has someone on the side. Besides you, she's the only one. I promise she'll never be in your face. You can still be Mrs. Archer, with everything that comes with it.”

My world had shattered.

I collapsed onto the cold floor, burying my face in my hands and sobbing, my words broken and choked.

“I don't just want to be your wife... I want you to love only me...”

Julian slowly knelt down to my level, his voice as gentle as ever, but his words held no warmth, no love.

“I do love you. You're the only one I love in this world.”

Then he turned and left.

As he walked away, he told me to take some time to calm down.

I completely lost it.

In the messy room, I grabbed a shard of broken glass and cut my own arm, as if the physical pain could somehow lessen the agony in my heart.

I’d thought about divorce, of course, but I couldn't accept it.

How could the bond we’d built since we were kids be worth less than a woman he’d known for only three months?

I tried to fight the temptations of the world with the little love I had left, but the outcome was obvious.

I endured it.

I suffered.

I trapped myself in our memories, shackled myself to the promises Julian once made.

My best friend was the one who first noticed something was wrong with me.

She took me to a therapist, went on trips with me to help me relax, and pushed me to find myself again.

During those dark, depressing days, I fell in love with painting.

Maybe it was only when I was painting that I could briefly forget the people and things that were suffocating me.

Julian came home early tonight.

When I finished a painting and came downstairs, I found him already sitting at the dining table.

I was a little surprised to see him home so soon.

The first thing he did when he saw me was ask, “Why didn't you make dinner tonight? You used to always cook for me.”

Julian was a picky eater with a terrible schedule, and I used to worry he’d get stomach problems, so I’d even wake up early every day to make him breakfast.

But after Lily showed up, he stopped eating the breakfasts I made.

Trying to win him back, I started making dinner every night, but he was always “working late” or “at a client dinner.”

He never once came home to eat.

I said calmly, “I thought you were working late. If you’re hungry, you can ask the housekeeper to make you something.”

His lips tightened, and he looked up at me.

“Chloe, I feel like you’ve changed.”

I smiled.

“Have I?”

“Yeah.”

Julian blinked at me like a little boy, a hint of a pout in his voice.

“You used to always ask me what time I’d be home for dinner. I feel like I haven't heard you ask that in a long time...”

But Julian, people don't just change overnight.

When I used to ask when you were coming home for dinner, you’d tell me you were working late, stuck in meetings, when you were actually in bed with Lily, screwing your brains out.

That was just another reminder of how disgusting your betrayal felt.