Chloe quickly grabbed her daughter Lily Mason's hand. "Jeremy, we'll get going. I don't want to cause any more fights between you two."

"Leave her alone, Chloe," Jeremy said, pulling her back. "This isn't your fault. She's just being unreasonable. Let her cool off, and she'll be fine."

With that, he walked straight into the kitchen, brought out the dishes I had made, and sat down with Chloe and Lily to eat.

I was left standing alone in the living room. As laughter echoed from the dinner table, a single tear fell quietly at my feet. At that moment, I finally realized something.

Jeremy thought I was overreacting, and I thought he was cold and heartless. We lived under the same roof, but we were already living in two different worlds.

I closed my eyes, forcing the tears back. When I opened them again, my gaze was clear.

In the end, Chloe left with the sweater.

Jeremy walked up to me, trying to pull me into an embrace. "I was being too harsh earlier. I'm sorry."

I didn't resist, letting him hold me. His body was warm, but that warmth never reached my heart.

I thought back to many years ago, to the days when Eliza was sick. She had lost all her hair, and she didn't want to look in the mirror anymore.

I had knitted that yellow sweater during that time. I wanted to keep her warm and make her look a little less worn out.

When the sweater was finished, Eliza was overjoyed. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled for the first time in days.

"Mommy, look. Do I look like a little bunny?"

Smiling, I nodded, but tears were already falling.

When Jeremy came home, he saw the sweater and merely said, "It looks nice. Don't let her catch a cold."

Then, he went back to his phone call. He was always busy and had something more important than us.

He did contribute—he covered every single medical bill. But he left all the companionship, the agonizing wait, and the absolute despair for me to face alone.

Now, he even wanted to take away my last bit of comfort.

Pulling myself back from the memories, I gently pushed him away. "Jeremy, the words I've heard from you most over the last few years are 'I'm sorry.'"

When I was giving birth, he was busy, so I went to the hospital alone. When Eliza got sick, he was busy, so I took care of her by myself. When Eliza passed away, he was busy, so I handled the funeral alone.

After all of it, he'd quickly say "I'm sorry".

With every apology, my heart broke a little more.

Under the dim lights, Jeremy stood with most of his face hidden in shadow. I couldn't see his expression, but when he looked up, our eyes met. His were empty and devoid of emotion.

My chest hurt sharply.

When I spoke again, my voice broke. "But what I need isn't an apology."

He frowned, confused. "I don't get it. What do you need? Love? We've been married for so long. All that sentimental stuff is just fluff now."

I stared at the man I'd been married to for ten years. His appearance hadn't changed much, but his heart had never beaten for me from the start.

Noticing my silence, he opened his mouth to say something, but his phone rang.

He then turned to me and said, "Shirley, don't overthink it. There's an urgent matter at work. I have to go."

He gave my head a pat of comfort and turned to leave. But just as he reached the door, Chloe burst in.

Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to speak. "Jeremy, Lily has a fever. I don't know what to do."

I heard Jeremy's soft voice. "Don't worry. I'll drive you to the hospital right now."

The door slammed shut, and the living room fell silent. The corners of my mouth curled into a bitter smile.

When Eliza was in the ICU, close to death, I never saw Jeremy act this urgently.

A cold wave swept through me.

He didn't love me. I had always known it all these years.

Jeremy didn't come home that night.

My pillow was soaked, and my eyes were dry and gritty. I sat up slowly, staring out at the gray sky. Everything felt colorless.

I sat on the bed for a long time, then walked to the closet and pulled open the bottom drawer. Inside were some of his old things.

There was a photo album, a few letters, and a house purchase contract.

I never used to go through these because I believed that a marriage should be built on trust and respect.

But now, I just wanted to find some answers for myself.

I opened the yellowed letters. They were love letters from Jeremy to Chloe, full of sincere words and deep affection.

I closed the letters, unable to describe the feeling inside me. There was no jealousy or anger, just a deep, overwhelming fatigue.

Suddenly, I remembered so many details I had ignored.

When Chloe first moved in next door, Jeremy had shown an unusual level of enthusiasm.

He volunteered to help her settle in and gave her a tour of the neighborhood. But he was never such a helpful person.

Lily had naturally called him "Jeremy", but it soon turned into "Daddy Jeremy".

Jeremy never corrected her. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

But when Eliza was alive, he rarely had the patience to play with her for more than half an hour.

He was capable of being kind and patient, just not with me or Eliza.

Jeremy and I had grown up together. He was the idol of every kid in the neighborhood, the kind of person who seemed to glow in a crowd.

Being able to marry him was something I never dared to dream of.

Jeremy sat across from me with a distant smile before saying, "My parents really like you, and I think you're nice too. Let's give it a try."

I thought my years of silent crush had finally reached a perfect ending.

Throughout our ten years of marriage, I'd been like a spinning top, tirelessly serving the family. No one appreciated the sacrifices I made. No one ever bothered to ask if I was tired.

All they said was, "Shirley, you're so capable."

Chloe had also said, "Shirley, you're amazing. You can do everything. Unlike me, I get flustered over the smallest thing."

I just smiled and stayed silent. All this "capability" came from a marriage that had left me feeling like a widow. No one was born knowing how to do everything.

Chloe didn't know because she was pampered. Even after her husband passed, she still had Jeremy.

At that moment, the door opened. Jeremy walked in, calling out, "Shirley, Lily had a high fever last night…"

When he didn't see me in the living room, his words trailed off, and he came into the bedroom.

Seeing my swollen eyes, he pulled me into a hug. "Are you feeling sick?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I said calmly, "Jeremy, I meant it when I said I want a divorce yesterday."

The concern in his eyes vanished instantly. He stared at me, his gaze hard. "Why?"

I looked at him. "Because of these ten years, Jeremy. Since the day I married you, I've never known romance. All I've gained is a pair of calloused hands."

I opened my palm, exposing the rough, thick calluses from years of labor under the light.

"In these ten years, I've been a silent servant to your entire family. I'm tired. I don't want to live like this anymore."

My words completely enraged Jeremy.

"Shirley, have I treated you badly? I gave you everything you have! I'm telling you, divorce is not an option!"

Pain shot through my wrist as he gripped it tightly. I wrenched myself free, but the force was so great that I staggered back a step.

"Jeremy, don't you dare touch me again." I said, glaring at him. "This marriage is over."

With that, I dragged out the dusty suitcase from the closet and started packing my things.

In less than ten minutes, I had packed everything.

The scene of a divorcee tearfully returning a box of sweet mementos wouldn't happen to me. Cold-hearted as he was, Jeremy never bought me a single gift.

I carried my suitcase to the door, but Jeremy chased after me. Frowning, he asked, "Shirley, do you even have money for a lawyer? How dare you ask for a divorce?"

I gave a bitter smile. What had this marriage really given me?

I met his gaze. "Jeremy, don't worry about me finding a lawyer. You'll know if I have money or not once the divorce is final."

The next day, I contacted a lawyer to discuss the divorce.

Hannah Wagner, a polished middle-aged woman, listened to my story and calmly analyzed it. "Mr. Tate's behavior falls under emotional neglect and psychological abuse. Although it's hard to legally define as fault, we can fight for your share of the marital assets."

I nodded. "Ms. Wagner, there's one more thing I want."

"What is it?"

"My daughter's sweater."

Hannah paused for a moment, then understood immediately. A trace of sympathy flickered in her eyes. "Ms. Jamison, don't worry. I'll handle this for you."

As I walked out of the law firm, my phone rang. It was Jeremy. I hesitated for a moment but still picked up.

"Where are you?" His voice on the other end was strained with suppressed anger. "You need to come back now. I—"

I cut him off. "Jeremy, I've already hired a lawyer. The divorce agreement will be sent to you soon. If you don't agree, we'll meet in court."

With that, I hung up before he could say more.

Just then, a notification popped up, letting me know that Chloe had posted something new.

The latest post was from half an hour ago, showing a photo of her, Jeremy, and Lily in front of a carousel at an amusement park.

Jeremy was leaning intimately against Chloe while holding Lily in his arms.

The caption read, "Thank you for such a wonderful afternoon."

It seemed like Jeremy was doing just fine. Good for them. Let the three of them live happily ever after.

…

A week later, it was Eliza's death anniversary.

In past years, I spent this day alone. I'd buy a bouquet of her favorite white daisies and go to the cemetery to talk to her.

Jeremy always had an excuse not to come—either a big meeting or an unexpected business trip.

This year, just like any other, I headed to the suburban cemetery clutching a bouquet of daisies.

The photo on her tombstone was taken when she was five. She was wearing the yellow sweater I had knitted for her, and her smile was bright and innocent.

I gently wiped the dust off the photo and spoke softly to her. "Eliza, Mommy's here to see you. I've moved to a new place. It's very quiet. I'm knitting you a new sweater. Once it's done, you won't be cold there…"

My voice caught as I spoke.

Just then, I heard the faint sound of footsteps behind me. I assumed it was a cemetery worker and didn't turn around.

But then a familiar voice called from above me. "Shirley?"

I spun around in shock and saw Jeremy. He looked thinner, with faint dark circles under his eyes and a haggard expression.

What stunned me even more was that he wasn't alone. Chloe and Lily were standing beside him, and Lily was wearing that yellow sweater.

At that instant, my blood ran cold.

"What are you doing here?" My voice shook with anger.

Jeremy seemed oblivious to my reaction. He placed the chrysanthemums Chloe was holding in front of Eliza's tombstone and sighed. "I brought Chloe and Lily to visit Eliza."

Chloe stepped forward and softly said, "Eliza, I'm here to see you. Don't be mad at your dad. He's always thinking of you."

I sneered. "Jeremy, who is she visiting Eliza as? Your friend? Your neighbor?"

I paused, my gaze sharp as a knife. "Or your first love?"

The moment I said that, both Jeremy's and Chloe's expressions changed.

He instinctively stepped forward to shield Chloe and yelled, "Shirley Jamison! What nonsense are you talking about? Don't tarnish Chloe's name here!"

His very defensiveness only served as further proof of the facts.

"Nonsense?" I took a step closer to him. "Wasn't your girlfriend of three years in college named Chloe Stevens? She disappeared after her family had issues, and you were depressed for an entire year because of it. You think I didn't know?

"You married me because I was simple, easy to control, and a woman suitable for marriage. Also, do you think I don't know that you bought the unit Chloe's living in now?"