On the thirtieth anniversary of our marriage, my husband's longtime infatuation finally came to an end with her divorce.

Riley Owens, the woman he'd secretly admired, declared her intention to live life to the fullest, setting off on a solo cross-country road trip in her RV. Steven couldn't bear the thought of her dining alone beneath the stars, so he chose to divorce me and follow her.

Our son, Layne, whom I had nurtured for over two decades, saw this as progressive: "Go ahead, Dad. You only get one chance at life; don't leave any regrets. I'm right behind you."

"And what about me?" I interjected.

"Men are just boys who never grow up—don't make a fuss," Layne shot back, his gaze subtly contemptuous. "If I were Dad, I'd choose Aunt Riley too."

That's when I felt my heart turn to ice.

Everyone has the right to chase their dreams, and so do I.

This family is something I no longer want!

---

Steven's muse finally divorced, and upon hearing the news, he burst into tears of pure joy.

I observed him from the couch as he hastily retrieved our marriage certificate from deep within a cabinet. He donned his reading glasses, his hands shaking as he typed a query on his phone: "How to file for a divorce."

The phone's volume was cranked up, the sounds from the video resounding throughout the house. Steven stumbled over the modern terminology but diligently noted every word. He replied to Riley's message on WhatsApp: "Don't worry, Riley. No matter where you go, I'll be with you."

His tender words cut through the facade of our decades-long marriage. Despite the turbulence, I placed his preferred coffee on the desk, nervously adjusting my clothes.

"Can we not divorce?" I pleaded quietly.

"No. I’ve missed out on Riley for too many years; I can’t let that happen again."

Gazing at his still-handsome face, my heart ached.

"And what about me? The thirty years we've supported each other, the thirty years I've spent managing the household and raising our child—what do they mean?"

With a voice full of rage, I unleashed all the grief and pain I'd bottled up over the years. Steven frowned, glanced at me, then turned back to his desk, refusing to say another word.

Near a breakdown, I shook him repeatedly, desperate for an explanation. But he sat in silence, leaving me feeling like a madwoman.

Yet I recall—I wasn’t always like this. Before marriage, everyone called me their carefree friend.

Steven Ward was undeniably attractive, yet his family was not well-off. While some girls showed interest in him, they ultimately hesitated because of his background. As a result, he found himself single well into his late twenties.

Around that time, I was involved in some business matters and happened to meet him. He approached me with a poetry book in hand, wearing a crisp white shirt and navy pants, and greeted me with a gentle smile. He kindly guided me to the manager's office, and his smile left a lasting impression on me. In the following days, I found myself drawn to him more and more.

The workplace seemed surprisingly small; no matter where I went, I seemed to bump into him. As these encounters grew more frequent, I started to sense that something was amiss. Then one day, he gave me a movie ticket and invited me to watch a film with him.

On the way back, he confessed, "Phoenix, I truly admire you. I hope we can build a future together." This straightforward declaration of affection sparked my youthful fantasies, and from that moment on, a whirlwind of emotions swept over me.

When we first established our relationship, it felt like we were living in perfect harmony. Eager to share my happiness, I introduced him to my parents, and soon after, we got married. Following the wedding, my parents, wanting the best for us, used their connections to relocate us back to the city.

Steven was bright and eager to learn, quickly gaining favor with our superiors. At the time, I believed this was a step forward in our perfect life. However, Steven's first move after his promotion was to transfer Riley Owens to our office.

I thought I might have been overreacting but couldn't resist the urge to look into Steven's journal. That's when I discovered that he had secretly been infatuated with Riley, but Riley, not wanting to hinder him, had held back from pursuing a relationship.

Finding this out shattered my world. Steven and I fought intensely, and I considered causing a scene at the office to damage both their reputations. But then, I discovered I was pregnant. The child became my Achilles' heel.

As the saying goes, "stepmothers bring stepfathers." Persuaded by my parents, I swallowed my pride and continued playing the role of Steven's wife. Yet, Steven seemed to enjoy my care while still looking after Riley, even though she was married with kids.

Every time we argued, he would keep silent, which drove me to madness. Eventually, rumors began circulating about my instability. But now, even this fractured life was falling apart.

I buried my face in my hands and crouched down, taking a long moment to regain my composure. When I tried to head home, I realized I had no idea where I had wandered off to.