For eighteen years, my wife, Elizabeth Connerty, never once reached out to her first love, Lucas Ryder.

She committed herself fully to me and cooked warm meals for me. She attended every parent-teacher conference for our daughter. She carefully planned our family trips year after year.

That was how we lived—quietly, steadily, and happily—for eighteen years.

But after our daughter celebrated her eighteenth birthday, I turned to Elizabeth and said, "Let's get a divorce."

She stood in the doorway of our daughter's bedroom, staring at me in stunned silence.

I added calmly, "When our daughter was born, you promised me that once she turned eighteen, we would divorce."

Elizabeth Connerty let out a muted, incredulous laugh. "It was just a joke. How could you possibly take it seriously?"

In that moment, the gentle, graceful woman standing before me overlapped with the bright, carefree girl she had been eighteen years ago.

Our marriage was a business alliance. Before meeting me on a blind date, she'd had a college sweetheart—Lucas Ryder.

He came from a poor family, and the Connerty family refused to accept him as their son-in-law. They sent him overseas instead.

I laid out two choices for her.

First, she could chase after Lucas, and I would find someone else to marry.

Second, she could marry me—and cut ties with him for good.

Out of duty to her parents, she chose me.

After we married, she treated me well. She soon became pregnant, and I began to believe that I could gain both business advantages and love from this union. So when I had my car accident, my instinct was to call her.

But she didn't answer.

When I came out of the emergency room, she returned the call. Her voice was honest.

"I'm sorry, honey… Lucas went into anaphylactic shock…"

She chose him—chose to stay by his side because she loved him.

On the phone, her words faltered, as if she didn't know what to say next.

In that instant, I curled inward like a hedgehog, pulling every shred of affection I had for her back into myself.

Suddenly, on the other end of the line, her breathing quickened. A doctor shouted for her to be wheeled into the delivery room.

For Lucas, she hadn't even spared a thought for her own body.

When I looked at the tiny newborn daughter wrapped in swaddling cloth, I said, "Elizabeth, can you promise me this—when our daughter turns eighteen, we'll get divorced.

"For these eighteen years, I need you to play the role of a good mother and a good wife in front of her."

Elizabeth whispered a single word, "Okay."

I never forbade her from contacting Lucas again. But she seemed to shut that door herself. She devoted herself fully to being a responsible wife and mother, never reaching out to him again.

I knew she did it out of duty—to our daughter, to her family, to the life we had built.

But I also knew she had never truly let him go.

Every time she groped for the old hair tie he'd given her… every month when she quietly sent someone to gather photos of him overseas… she revealed a love she tried so hard to hide, a devotion that grew wild and unchecked.

Eighteen years passed. Her parents were gone. Our daughter had grown into a poised young woman.

And I—finally, completely—had let go of whatever feelings I once had for Elizabeth.

So now, I want her to pursue the love she never stopped longing for.

I had been wrestling with how to explain everything to our daughter, yet the first obstacle came from Elizabeth instead.

Gently, I said, "It's alright. You don't need to worry about me. I let go of everything eighteen years ago."

Elizabeth froze, as if seeing my true stance for the first time.

"You don't need to worry about our daughter either. I'll talk to her. You're free now, Elizabeth."

I lifted my head and met her eyes. "So… It's time to honor the promise we made eighteen years ago."

She sighed, guilt softening her voice. "I'm the one who wronged you. If you or our daughter ever need anything, I'll still take responsibility."

Then, almost trembling, she picked up her phone and dialed the long-forgotten number.

That night was the first time we ever slept in separate rooms.

For eighteen years, even though our hearts weren't aligned, we still fulfilled each other's needs.

I always felt guilty—felt like I was stealing another man's woman—but Elizabeth didn't seem to mind. In time, she even seemed to take quiet comfort in it.

No matter. Tonight marked the true end of whatever we were.

The next morning, just after my daughter Destiny finished a phone call with Harden University, I told her I was divorcing her mother.

Before I could even begin my carefully crafted explanation, she cut me off.

"Dad, you don't have to lie to me. I know everything that happened back then. I know you don't love Mom. She wronged you. Dad, I'll stay by your side from now on."

A dull ache spread through my chest. So she had known all along.

It was my fault—my acting had never been good enough. I had let a child carry the weight of things she should never have had to understand.

Once she accepted it, everything became easier. Elizabeth and I filed for divorce, then traveled abroad with our daughter to Arment for her university enrollment.

While there, Elizabeth would also meet Lucas. They could decide whether he would return with her or whether they would stay abroad together.

After the thirty-day cooling-off period, we would finalize the divorce completely.

The moment we landed in Arment, Elizabeth rushed off to find Lucas.

Destiny insisted on going too.

"Dad, I want to see what that man even looks like."

I could see she still held resentment toward her mother. "Don't act on impulse. For eighteen years, your mom has repaid everything she owed us."

But Destiny didn't listen. She followed her mother anyway.

And by midnight, she still hadn't come back.

…

When I called, the background on her end was loud—like a party.

"Dad, I'm not coming home tonight."

I asked why. She hesitated, then mumbled, "I don't want to kill Lucas's mood.

"He did nothing wrong back then. He's been alone here for so long… he must've been so lonely."

She paused, then added softly, "Dad, you're the one who said it—no one owes anyone anything now. But don't worry, I still love you."

In just a few hours, her tone had completely changed.

She was right—none of us were wrong. But her words made the eighteen years I had fought for feel like a joke.

If I had divorced back then and left her with Elizabeth, would the three of them have been happier?

But I had given her all my love. I'd been afraid she would be mocked for not having a mother. I had swallowed my pride and begged Elizabeth to stay.

I wanted Destiny to rise above everyone, supported by both the Connerty family and mine.

Now that I was divorcing Elizabeth, Destiny was all I had left. I'd already planned everything—how to choose a good husband for her, how to raise my future grandchildren.

I couldn't accept this. I had spent a year loving Elizabeth, then eighteen years learning to let her go. But my daughter? I could never let her go.

I tried to coax her home. "Destiny, I made your favorite teddy-shaped cookies. No matter how late it is, I'll wait for you."

She came home around midnight. When she saw I was still awake, she hurried over and pushed me toward the bed.

"Dad, the cookies were great. Go to sleep now."

I let out a breath in relief. Maybe she was just being overly sympathetic. I would accept that kindness. I was selfish, but she still loved me—that was enough.

I closed my eyes.

But then I heard her stifled giggle.

I didn't open my eyes. I couldn't face the truth. I didn't want to face the fact that my daughter had already fallen under Lucas's spell.

When we accompanied her to university registration later, Lucas came too.

It was my first time meeting him. He was far more lively in person than in photos, brimming with a youthful energy rare for his age.

When he saw me, he greeted me with warmth and kept a respectful distance, giving me space to fuss over my daughter.

But she kept glancing his way, unable to hide her interest.

Then she asked, "Lucas, do you have anything you want to say to me?"

He stepped forward and ruffled her hair. "Don't stress yourself out. If studying makes you anxious, just eat more. Being healthy and happy is what matters most!"

Of course he believed in "happy education." No wonder she liked him so much.

He wore a tracksuit, his right hand strong and steady. I'd heard that years ago, Elizabeth had someone build a badminton court for him behind his villa—it suited his cheerful temperament perfectly.

Our daughter nodded obediently and waved goodbye to us.

I asked Elizabeth and Lucas whether they planned to stay abroad or return to our country.

Elizabeth replied, "These next four years, we'll stay here with Destiny. After that… we'll see what she wants."

It seemed the three of them had already mapped out their future within just a few days—and I was no longer part of it.

Yet back then, it had been silently agreed that our daughter would stay with me.

After sending Lucas home, Elizabeth returned to the hotel with me, clearly preparing for a heart-to-heart talk.

"Since Destiny chose to study abroad, I think she probably prefer the lifestyle here. You can still come visit her often."

I pictured my daughter's face and felt lost. Had all my insistence been meaningless?

After a moment of silence, I lifted my head and asked, "Do you hate me? For these eighteen years? And do you think our daughter hates me?"

Understanding flickered across Elizabeth's face. "No. It was all my fault."

She always said that. She always took every bit of blame onto herself.

It was meaningless. I was tired.

"Alright," I said at last. "I'll respect our daughter's wishes. I hope you both take good care of her."

Elizabeth laughed. "Why do you sound like you'll never see her again?"

I replied casually, "I'm not used to living abroad. I prefer a quiet, ordinary life."

She had spent the past few days running wild with Lucas, yet her expression now was complicated—as if she missed something.

I turned away, went into the room, and started packing to return home. As I worked, I reminded her to come back in a little over twenty days so we could finalize the divorce completely.

She nodded.

Before leaving, she suddenly asked, "So… for these eighteen years, were you acting?"

I rolled my eyes. "Weren't you?"

She paused, then changed the subject. "Do you think I did well?"

She seemed uneasy, wiping sweat from her palms with a handkerchief—nervous, probably wondering whether she could take proper care of Lucas.

I patted her shoulder like an old friend, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry. You'll do great with him."

"In every way," I added. "Including in bed."

I cared about nothing anymore, yet Elizabeth seemed oddly unsettled.

After I returned home, she began posting on social media frequently—visiting exhibitions, picnicking.

In every photo, Lucas's face was conspicuously absent.

Maybe she was being considerate since we weren't officially divorced yet.

But just like the last eighteen years, traces of him continued to permeate our life together—so tightly I could hardly breathe.

There were moments when her acting fooled me and I'd think about giving up the old promise—pretending none of it had happened and letting us walk into another eighteen years.

But I couldn't betray the version of myself who had stumbled out of the emergency room alone, barely alive.

Then I was grateful I let her go. And for my daughter's sake, letting go wasn't too late.

Sometimes Elizabeth would send me photos of Destiny, accompanied by a few lines of small talk. At first I replied. Later, I simply stopped.

I threw myself completely into work.

And soon enough, the thirty-day cooling-off period ended.

…

Elizabeth and our daughter flew back from Arment together.

When Destiny saw me, her eyes held a hint of dependence. But when I gently asked how long she planned to stay in our country, she answered without hesitation, "I'm leaving tonight."

That fast? To hurry back to accompany Lucas?

Elizabeth tried to save my pride with an explanation—something about school being important.

Looking at how drained and hollow my daughter seemed, I wondered if foreign universities were truly that exhausting.

I was tired myself and didn't dig deeper.

The three of us went to the courthouse. The clerk handed us the divorce papers and told us to sign.

I signed without hesitation.

Elizabeth glanced at me, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face.

I checked my watch. "Hurry. I'm on a tight schedule."

Even Destiny urged her. "Mom, sign it. Lucas is waiting for us for dinner tonight."

Hearing that, I felt nothing.

Elizabeth grabbed the pen in a burst of irritation and scribbled her signature before slamming the pen down.

"Are you satisfied now?"

Her warm voice, tinted with that rare sharpness, almost sounded low and rough to my ears.

I raised a brow. "I never forced you—not once."

Awkward, she touched her nose and turned toward our daughter.

"Destiny, let's go."

But Destiny didn't respond.

When I looked over, her face had gone pale. Her body trembled violently, and then she collapsed straight to the ground.

"Destiny!"

Elizabeth and I rushed to her in panic.

The clerk who had stamped our divorce papers hurried over to check her pulse.

"This is bad! She's going into withdrawal!"

Elizabeth shook her head, stunned. "That's impossible. She—she wouldn't touch anything like that. Unless it was something she ate yesterday. But the bread was from Lucas…"

She stopped speaking.