After sending off the last of the guests, I dragged my exhausted body home. What should have been a celebratory party turned into my punishment site.

The house was a mess with things knocked out of place. The sound of Harvey's sobs came from the bedroom, and he was crying so hard it seemed he might choke on it.

I had only seen him cry like that on the day he lost his wedding ring on a trip. I had spent hours soothing him until he calmed down and bought us a new set of rings. And now, his tears were flowing for someone else.

Bending over, I picked up a pillow from the floor and asked softly, "Is there something about the house that makes you unhappy?"

Instead of answering, he asked in a broken voice, "If I had answered her call last night, would I have been able to see her one last time?"

"And then what?"

My words stopped him cold, and he had no answer.

A heavy weariness settled over me as I gathered the scattered items on the floor. Suddenly, he shot up from the bed and dragged out a suitcase. Turning around, he opened the closet and began stuffing clothes inside.

The shirts I had ironed, folded, and sorted into neat stacks were now tossed in like rags, forming a tangled mess.

"I've packed for your business trip. It's the set on the far right."

Ignoring me, he rummaged through his clothes faster and faster, flinging them everywhere. When he couldn't find what he wanted, he started panicking. He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Where's that shirt? The white shirt with the ink stain on the collar?"

"It was yellowing, so I donated it. You already have plenty of white shirts."

His eyes flashed with a ferocious glint, and his voice sharpened. "Who told you you could touch my stuff?"

And with that, he slapped me hard across my face. Dazed, I stumbled back against the door, clutching my stinging cheek.

After life started getting better for both of us, I would donate clothes I could no longer fit into. He used to call me kind for that and said I could do whatever I wanted with his old clothes.

Now, my chest felt hollow. He wasn't packing for a business trip at all. All he wanted was to wear that shirt from Cassie to meet her one last time.

In truth, our anniversary wasn't until two days later, but he had to travel for work, so he decided to move the party up. I had found it troublesome and suggested keeping it simple. "Why not skip the party this year? Let's just have dinner with the family."

He had gently kissed me then. "No. You deserve a party and the best of everything, babe."

And now, he had canceled his business trip just to show up at Cassie's funeral. But what role would he claim there? A friend seemed too insignificant, and an ex-boyfriend would only invite mockery.

As I watched him frantically pack, I slipped off our wedding ring before leaving it on the shoe cabinet by the door. Perhaps it was time to reconsider whether we had any reason to continue this marriage.

Rory called while I was at work.

"Jilian, could you reach Harvey? He sent me a proposal, then disappeared. I'm here just as a filler, so he should at least walk me through it."

I switched over to WhatsApp, where the dozens of texts I had sent Harvey were all unanswered. And as if I had annoyed him, the last text bounced back with a red exclamation mark.

"Maybe he's just too busy. I'm sorry, Rory. Let me call him for you."

"Thanks, Jilian. I'll be waiting for your good news."

After his promotion to manager, Harvey was assigned an assistant, Rory. The kid was quick-witted but hardly stepped in when it came to actual projects.

When I dialed, the line rang and rang before cutting off. After I tried several times again, he finally picked up. The background was noisy, and his voice came through thick and nasal. "Stop blowing up my phone. Aren't you tired of this?"

He sounded so upset, as though the one who had died was his wife.

For a moment, I froze. First, it was because he had never spoken to me like this, though part of me had seen it coming. Second, it was because of the voice of an older woman in the background. It had gone hoarse from crying.

"Harvey, if only Cassie had married you back then. She was unhappy all these years and had always wanted to reach out to you, but you're already married. If only she had waited a little longer, the two who truly loved each other wouldn't have had to miss their chance."

So, those two had been so close to marriage. I pinched my arm to snap out of it. "Rory said the project—"

"I've handed everything over. Don't bother yourself with it," he said, impatiently cutting me off.

Then, realizing his sharp tone, he softened his voice to say, "I'm at Cassie's funeral. We'll talk later."

After the line went dead, I sat still, staring at my phone for a long time. He had forgotten that today was our fifth wedding anniversary. He was at his first love's funeral, crying as if the world had ended.

All I could do was send Rory an apology, and he replied with a sticker.

[Cheer up, Jilian. It'll be fine once everything blows over.]

But if I claimed that I wasn't sad, I would just be lying to myself. Why did I have to wait for this to blow over? How long was I supposed to endure this grief?

The way Harvey cared so much made me wonder if all those times he seemed lost in thought, he had been thinking of someone else, whom he had done similar things with.

Harvey cut off all contact, so no one could reach him. The company was in chaos and scrambling to find someone to fill his role. Even with all the groundwork he had laid, the deal still collapsed in the end.

Once he had everything settled for Cassie's funeral, he came back days later with a little girl. She hid timidly behind him, looking both adorable and pitiful.

"Say hello to Mrs. Clarke," he said while smiling, his voice sounding softer than I had ever heard.

If we had children, maybe he would've been a loving father. But in all these five years, I showed no signs of pregnancy and even blamed myself, until the hospital discovered that the problem was his low sperm count.

For the family's pride, Wendy begged me to keep it a secret.

As I stroked the little girl's hair, she obediently slipped her arms around my leg and was so sweet that I couldn't help but smile. "So, where did she come from?"

Harvey hesitated before saying, "She's Cassie's daughter."

The smile froze on my face, while Harvey got up and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Let's adopt her, honey."

The two figures, one tall and the other small, held me close. We must have looked like the perfect family to anyone watching, but deep down, my heart had long turned cold.

"Is the child's father dead too?" I heard myself asking in a startlingly calm voice.

Harvey rubbed his nose and replied, "No, but Cassie's husband can't possibly raise her alone. A child needs motherly love too. If he remarries, who knows what her stepmother will be like? Her life will be miserable."

I once heard a love quote that went something like, "If you love someone deep enough, you plan for their future."

I couldn't relate much back then, but now, it hit me like a blow and broke me apart.

"Those are just your assumptions."

Harvey's gaze sharpened. "When did you become so cold, Jilian?"

Then, his voice softened as he continued, "Plus, we don't have children anyway."

I gave a short, bitter laugh. "Is it my fault that we don't? Her father is still alive, and since she's not related to me or you by blood, what right do you have to talk about adopting her? If you're so eager to care for a child, the orphanage is full of them. You've been there with me enough times to know that those left behind are the ones with disabilities; they need love the most.

"Is this really about us not having kids, or is it because she's your first love's child?"

The little girl's wide, watery eyes met mine. I couldn't bear to look into her gaze, so I gently pressed my hands over her ears. And with that, Harvey and I erupted into the worst fight of our marriage.