At our class reunion, my husband lost a game of truth or dare and was dared to call the person he regretted most in his life.

I listened as a woman's voice came through the phone.

She asked, "If I get divorced now, will you give me a place to call home?"

Marcus answered confidently, "Yes."

An awkward silence filled the room.

Everyone expected a dramatic response from me, but instead, I calmly took off my wedding ring and walked away.

He returned home late again that night.

I handed him the divorce papers I had prepared beforehand, "Marcus, let's end this marriage."

Upon hearing this, Marcus tugged impatiently at his tie, "Frances, this is absurd. Over such a trivial thing, you’re making a scene and daring to bring up divorce? You've really grown bold!"

He had just pledged himself to another woman, in front of everyone, yet accused me of overreacting.

No surprise there. My endless tolerance over the years had led him to see me as a pushover—someone he could manipulate at will, not even worthy of expressing anger.

I chuckled at myself, "I'm willingly stepping aside for her; shouldn’t that make you happy?"

Marcus's brow furrowed; I noticed the displeasure in his eyes.

"Stop being irrational, will you? It was just a game. Livia is a friend; do you expect me to reject her outright and embarrass her? Frances, you shouldn’t be so selfish."

I nodded, "Yes, you’re right, which is why we should separate."

This was my second time mentioning divorce, and Marcus, usually composed, showed a flicker of panic. But he quickly regained his calm.

"Frances, don’t use divorce to threaten me."

"Apologize to Livia properly, and I might reconsider. Otherwise, I don’t mind changing the role of Mrs. Kelley."

It was utterly laughable.

Three years of marriage, and Marcus's heart had always belonged to Livia.

I was foolish not to see it clearly until today.

I said nothing more, simply tearing up the only photo we had together.

It was taken at our wedding, only after I had begged Marcus persistently; he reluctantly agreed.

In the photo, he showed no hint of joy, starkly contrasting my own expression.

I had cherished this photo once, but now, under Marcus's shocked gaze, I slowly tore it to pieces.

"Marcus, we're getting divorced."

After a brief moment of disbelief, Marcus spoke coldly, "Frances, don’t regret this!"

He stormed out, leaving behind a floor covered in torn fragments.

This was how he always treated me.

Any time I did something that displeased him, he'd punish me until I begged for forgiveness, then he’d generously pardon me.

He forgot that today was our third wedding anniversary.

I had originally prepared a big surprise for him.

But I didn't expect that he would call Livia at the party, and when she asked that question, he agreed without hesitation.

My last illusion about him was completely shattered.

Three years of marriage, and I finally realized I couldn’t win his heart.

So I decided to let him go and free myself.

---

The next morning, I was about to book a ride on my phone when I saw Livia's post on Facebook.

"No matter when, if I look back, you'll always be waiting there for me."

The accompanying photo showed fingers intertwined, with Marcus wearing the watch I had custom-made for him on his birthday. It had our initials engraved on it.

When Marcus put on the watch, he said he was willing to leave the past behind and try with me.

Hearing those words made me ecstatic, foolishly believing that three years of devotion hadn’t been in vain, and he finally noticed me.

That night was also when we consummated our marriage for the first time.

My hand instinctively went to my belly.

Yes, I was pregnant.

Last night, I intended to share the good news, but now, it was unnecessary.

I blocked Livia.

I went alone to the hospital to schedule an abortion. As the cold instruments entered my body, I cried with pain.

How liberating!

From now on, the last tie to Marcus was completely severed.

During my hospital stay, Marcus never called.

Due to the damage to my body, the doctor said it might be difficult for me to have children in the future.

Saying I wasn't saddened would be a lie, but more than anything, I felt relief.

At least my child wouldn't be like me, pathetically yearning for Marcus's occasional scraps of affection.

"My dear, you finally woke up. That jerk Marcus doesn't deserve you."

"Don't worry, once you're divorced, I'll hire a team of male models just for you. Why stick with one bad man when you can have a whole entourage?"

My only close friend, Isabelle, wholeheartedly supported my decision to divorce.

Seeing her exaggerated expression, I couldn't help but laugh.

She looked at me with utmost seriousness and said, "Frannie, this time, make sure you don't go back to him."

I nodded, "I won't."

After the divorce, I'll leave this city behind once and for all.

I spent two weeks in the hospital, and Marcus didn't call me once. When I was finally discharged, I returned home. As soon as I stepped inside, I saw Livia lounging in one of Marcus's white button-down shirts, her bare legs on full display.

She tilted her head provocatively, revealing a suspicious red mark on her neck. "Marcus can be so intense; I told him to take it easy," she mused.

I wasn't bothered by the mark; it was the emerald necklace around her neck that caught my attention. "Who gave you that necklace?" I asked.

Livia smirked. "Oh, this? I mentioned I liked it, and Marcus gave it to me," she replied casually.

I reached out to take it back. "Give it to me."

That necklace was the only keepsake my mother left me, and Marcus knew it perfectly well, yet he still gave it to Livia.

"No way, Marcus gave it to me, so it's mine now," Livia retorted with a smug smile. "Oh, I remember, this was your dear mother's auction prize, right? Stylish choice, but it's mine now."

"You and your late mother are destined to lose to me!" she taunted.

Rage boiled inside me, and I lunged forward to reclaim my mother's heirloom. Livia swiftly changed her tune. "Sis, I've already explained—I spilled coffee on my clothes and had to wear Marcus's. Why are you acting like this?"

"Cut the nonsense and give me back the necklace!" I snapped.

Just as my hand neared the necklace, Marcus rushed out and shoved me aside. Unable to dodge, my waist slammed into the edge of a table.

The sharp pain nearly buckled my legs, and I clung to the table corner to stay upright. Sweat beaded on my forehead from the agony, and my face turned pale.

Marcus sneered, "Frances, stop playing the victim. You come home just to harass Livia!"

"Really, pulling that schoolyard bullying act again? Let me tell you, as long as I'm here, you won't lay a finger on Livia!"

"Schoolyard bullying?" I echoed, looking at Livia. "Is that what you told him?"

A flicker of panic crossed Livia's eyes, but she quickly shifted her demeanor, feigning fear as she clung to Marcus's sleeve. "No, Frances didn't bully me; I was just rambling..."

She shed a few tears, instantly dispelling all of Marcus's doubts.

He shielded Livia with his body, saying, "Livia, don't be afraid. I'm here, and nobody can hurt you!"

Marcus glared at me with disdain, "Even Frances can't."

Even though I was set on divorce, his loathing gaze felt like a dagger through my heart. I remembered years ago when Marcus held my hand and earnestly promised, "I'll always protect you."

And indeed he had. He was gentle and caring, carrying me to the hospital when I was ill. His kindness made my heart flutter irresistibly.

But everything changed when Livia appeared.

Livia was my father's illegitimate daughter. She always played the victim, winning Marcus's sympathy. He accused me of being heartless, claiming I vented my grievances from past generations on innocent Livia.

What he didn't know was that his so-called innocent Livia led the bullying against me in college. She locked me in the bathroom, forcing me to drink toilet water. She pressed a heated curling iron against my back, scorching my skin until I nearly passed out. Only when they realized things had gone too far did they call an ambulance to take me to the hospital.

The first thing I was made to do upon waking was to sign a letter of forgiveness, coerced by my father.

He said, "Livia was just confused; as her elder sister, you shouldn't hold it against her."

It wasn't as if he hadn't seen the bloody and raw state of my back. But his heart had already tipped entirely in Livia's favor.

I thought at least Marcus would understand me. So I sought him out myself, only to be met with his cold and ruthless gaze.

"Frances, I never expected you to be so cruel!"

But what had I done? It was me who was the victim, yet everyone sided with the perpetrator.

From that moment on, everything shifted. At home or outside, I became the least welcome presence. I was like a villain in a soap opera, always cast aside.

Taking a deep breath, I reached out my hand toward them. "Give me back the necklace; it's my mother's heirloom."

Marcus's eyes momentarily showed a hint of guilt. He knew. My father despised my mother and burned all her belongings in a fit of rage after she was gone. That necklace was the sole heirloom she left me.

He seemed to hesitate. "Livia, just return it to her. I'll get you something prettier later."

"But I really like it," Livia pouted, giving me a nasty look despite her docile façade as she reluctantly removed the necklace.

Just as my hand was about to touch the necklace, she suddenly let it drop. It hit the ground and shattered into pieces!

Without hesitation, I slapped Livia across the face.

The next moment, Marcus shoved me down with force. "Frances, haven't you had enough? You dare bully Livia right in front of me—how come I didn't see this side of you before!"

I fell onto the shards of emerald, blood staining my hands. Marcus's eyes flickered with a pang of guilt, but ultimately, he clenched his fist. "Frances, you brought this upon yourself for bullying Livia."

How laughable. My husband held another woman in his arms, blaming me, his rightful wife, for being heartless.

"Yeah, this villain should have stepped down long ago. So, did you sign the divorce papers yet?"

Since he'd already brought his mistress under our roof, I assumed he had signed the divorce documents. But for some reason, Marcus seemed furious at the mention of it.

"Frances, do you really want to divorce me that badly?"

Livia feigned sorrow, chiming in, "Sis, please don't fight with Marcus because of me. I should be the one to leave."

She said that, yet clung to Marcus, pressing herself as close as possible. Her intentions were clear to anyone but Marcus.

"Livia, you don't have to lower yourself to her level. I'm here; she can't bully you," Marcus assured her, throwing me a disdainful look as he added, "Frances, don't think I don't know what you're up to. Threatening me with divorce, huh? I hate being threatened more than anything!"

I chuckled coldly. "Marcus, you're overestimating yourself."

"A man compromised like you is of no use to me anymore."

"You like her, right? Then she's all yours."

"You..."

Livia's eyes lit up at the mention of divorce from Marcus. She wrapped herself around his arm, pretending to plead, "Sis, you're really misunderstanding. Marcus and I aren't like that; I just returned to the country and know no one else..."

"Oh, so your father has already passed, and you have nowhere else to go, huh?"

Marcus probably didn't expect me to be so blunt. He angrily scolded, "Frances, look at yourself—do you have any resemblance to the woman you once were?"

"In your eyes, only Livia deserves to be Mrs. Kelley. So let's get divorced."

"Can you stop bringing up divorce every other sentence?"

"Isn't that exactly what you want? My future brother-in-law."

I deliberately emphasized the words "brother-in-law," and Marcus predictably flew into a rage. He pulled out the divorce papers from the table, signed them right in front of me, and tossed them over.

"Are you satisfied now? Let me tell you, even if you beg me, I'll never forgive you!"

I carefully checked the signature on the papers, feeling relieved. "Rest assured, I won't."

As I reached the door, I seemed to remember something. "Oh, by the way, tomorrow we'll finalize the divorce certificate. Don't be late."

All I received was Marcus's cold command to "get out!"

Livia watched with a face full of smug anticipation.

But she didn't know—everything here, including Marcus, was already meaningless to me.