I can endure anything. I really can.

My husband has been living with his mistress for two years now.

I just stayed home, quiet and compliant, taking care of the kids and his parents perfectly.

I gave everything when I was giving.

Now, I'll take back every drop.

Yesterday, my source told me.

My husband and his mistress had a huge fight.

I don't know what about.

It was their eighth big fight.

I knew the time was right.

Today, Step One of my plan begins.

I stood on the rooftop of a thirty-story building.

I let the wind whip my lifeless emotions into something raw.

I called Ethan Miller.

His lover and assistant, Lily Taylor, answered again.

It was the usual line. "Mr. Miller is in a meeting."

My face hardened. "Put him on the phone now, or I'm jumping."

"See if you can avoid being linked to that."

...Threat successful.

His face appeared on the video call.

I immediately started crying, fake tears streaming down my face.

"Husband," I choked out. "I just wanted to know... after two years... Do you still remember the way home?"

His eyes widened slightly.

He'd used not coming home as a way to pressure me into a divorce.

Two years had flown by.

My kids and my parents were healthy and safe, all thanks to me.

Today, I'd threatened to jump just to get him on the phone.

That arrogant man probably thought he was irresistible, that I couldn't live without him.

"You just had to call if you wanted me to come home," he said. "Why go up on a roof?"

I didn't mention Lily always screening his calls.

Maybe he already knew.

It didn't matter.

"The kids really miss you too," I said, putting on a sad voice.

"If you don't come back, they'll think you're gone for good."

"What are you talking about?" His voice was deep and low, but it left me completely cold.

"I'll come back tonight."

I stopped crying, putting away the act of heartbreak.

I stepped back from the rooftop edge.

It was a scorching day, but the wind up there was strong.

I felt a strange lift in my mood.

The sunlight even seemed brighter.

For two years, no matter how hot it was outside, I'd felt a chill, a biting cold.

My parents had been so worried, seeing my pale face year-round, always telling me to see a doctor.

But a frozen heart? No medicine could fix that.

I stopped by my parents' house, just like I always did.

Mom hugged me tight, tears filling her eyes.

A mother always knows.

She knew all the pain I'd been hiding for the past two years.

I wiped her tears away, forcing a smile. "Mom," I said, trying to sound cheerful. "Don't cry."

"I'm perfectly fine. I have plenty to eat, plenty to drink."

"I'm just putting on a show for him. Making him squirm."

Maybe I was only making myself squirm, but I was finally doing something.

This was just the start. I never actually planned to jump.

I never wanted to die.

I also knew he wouldn't show up tonight.

Lily would make sure of that.

When he finally came home would depend on how much Lily's feelings mattered to him.

Judging by how they were fighting, I didn't think it would be long.

I went shopping with Mom at the supermarket.

I picked out the most expensive things I could find.

I filled the trunk of the car.

Of course, I used his card.

For two years, while he was gone, I'd been careful with money, terrified spending too much would give him another excuse for divorce.

I'd tried to be invisible, to take up no space.

Starting today, I was spending freely. Like I didn't know how to spend money!

His message popped up instantly.

[Buying groceries?]

I looked at the chat history. I scrolled up.

It wasn't funny; it was sad.

The messages were always the same.

He'd ask: [Divorce?] I'd reply: [No.]

He'd ask: [Why?] I'd reply: [Kids.]

Every single day. Over and over. Seven hundred and sixty times.