I knew they had heard everything. They had stood outside the door the whole time. They heard every laugh and insult thrown at me.

But Gwyneth said nothing. She simply let Bryan pull me back into the room.

"So the birthday star got here early," Bryan said with a smile. "My fault. I couldn't leave until the nanny got Sam to sleep."

He slipped an arm around Gwyneth and glanced at me. "Gwen insisted on picking me up. She said a taxi would be uncomfortable."

His smile carried a quiet triumph, as if to say, "You might be her husband, but what does that matter?"

The room erupted in teasing.

"Since we were kids, Gwen has always spoiled Bryan the most."

"Once your child grows a little older, does that mean wedding bells are coming?"

"Don't forget to invite us to the wedding."

Amid the laughter and congratulations, they seemed to forget one thing. I was still Gwyneth's husband. And this was not an engagement party. It was supposed to be a birthday dinner she arranged out of guilt for me.

Their smug faces turned my stomach. Nausea rolled through me. I stood to leave, barely holding back a gag, but Gwyneth noticed.

She frowned at me. "This is your birthday party. What will it look like if you leave? It's just a stomachache. Bear with it."

The moment she finished speaking, Bryan coughed softly. Her attention snapped to him at once.

She helped him sit down, poured him a glass of warm water, and blew gently across the surface before bringing it to his lips. "Careful. It's still hot."

More teasing erupted around the table.

I closed my eyes. My birthday dinner had turned into a stage for them to display their affection. They chatted and laughed with their mutual friends like a real couple while I sat forgotten in the corner.

They had not even prepared a cake. The situation felt absurd and ridiculous, and this was the birthday party Gwyneth had prepared for me.

I swallowed every trace of anger and humiliation.

"Congratulations, Gwyneth Sullivan. In two days, I will be gone. Your husband's place will finally belong to the man you actually care about," I muttered.

…

That night, I did not leave. I stayed in the corner alone and watched the entire farce play out until the end.

Only after the gathering finally broke up did Gwyneth notice me.

"I'll take you home," she said.

She was my wife, yet the way she said it made the house we shared sound like a place that did not belong to her at all.

But before we could leave, Bryan walked over and slipped his arm through hers. "Gwen, I'm tired. I want to go back and rest."

Gwyneth pinched his cheek gently, her voice full of concern. "Did you stay up again taking care of Sam last night? Then we should go home first."

She walked out with Bryan.

I climbed into the bodyguards' car alone, feeling like a clown.

I touched my cheek. I expected tears, but none came. Perhaps when the pain grew deep enough, one simply stopped feeling it.

I could not understand it. If she cared so much about her childhood sweetheart, why did she marry me? Why did she have a child with me?

If she wanted the whole world to see how much she adored Bryan, why not divorce me? Why insist on keeping me and my child here, letting us endure their curses and mockery?

…

Sleep did not come easily that night.

The next morning, the doorbell woke me.

When I opened the door, Bryan stood there with his parents.

The moment Bryan's mother saw me, she let out a cold, mocking laugh.

Bryan's mother, Grace Malen, looked me up and down with open contempt. "Bringing someone else's bastard into the house, yet shameless enough to cling to Gwen's husband. I wonder what kind of parents would raise a son as shameless as you."

Bryan's father, Paul Thatcher, sneered beside her, "Enough talking to trash like this. Just looking at him makes me feel dirty."

They hauled several large suitcases upstairs as though they already owned the place.

As I watched them disappear up the staircase, I could not help wondering how parents like that had managed to raise a son even more shameless than they were.

Once the living room emptied, Bryan walked over with the baby in his arms. A smug smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "So what if you two got married? So what if she gave birth to your child? You still can't compete with me and my son."

He shifted Sam on his shoulder and leaned closer. "Oh, right. Gwen said that once we get back from our trip, she'll register my child under her household as the eldest son. As for your bastard, she'll only keep her as an adopted child. She'll remove her from the household register."

I looked at Bryan's irritating grin and felt nothing but boredom. I had already seen this little performance too many times.

I stepped aside and prepared to leave.

Suddenly, Bryan staggered backward and shouted, "I'm sorry! This is all my fault! But I'm holding the baby. You can't push me like that!"

His shout brought his parents running down the stairs. Paul charged at me like a madman.

At that exact moment, the villa door burst open and Gwyneth rushed inside. I barely had time to open my mouth before Paul slammed into me.

His palm cracked across my face. Filthy curses poured from his mouth as he struck me again.

Gwyneth moved to stop him. For a brief second, something like concern flickered in her eyes.

"Mr. Thatcher—"

Before she could speak, Bryan grabbed her arm. His eyes were already red. "Gwen, you promised that after our trip, my parents could come here and help take care of Sam. The place I live in isn't a good environment. I just want my child to grow up somewhere better."

His voice trembled. "I only asked Mr. Garrison if he would mind us staying here. But he suddenly pushed me…"

Bryan fussed over Sam, checking him again and again. Then he deliberately jostled Sam until he began to cry.

The wailing made my head spin. The spot where Paul had struck me throbbed with a dull ache. My cheek had probably already swollen.

Meanwhile, Bryan and his child had not suffered a single scratch.

I felt Gwyneth's conflicted gaze settle on me. I let out a cold laugh and slowly pushed myself to my feet.

The wife who once promised to love me forever, who swore she would always stand by my side, now stood there as the shield another man used to lie without restraint.

Perhaps our marriage had been a mistake from the beginning. She could not let go of her childhood sweetheart, so she had to let go of our marriage.

After all, I only had one day left before I left her.

Bryan insisted Sam might be hurt and demanded that they go to the hospital. Paul shouted that I should apologize.

Gwyneth stood between us. Her eyes lingered on my swollen face. In the end, she chose the man she could not let go. "Nick, I'll take Bryan and Sam to the hospital first. His parents just came back from overseas. When I return, I'll send you and Prudence to stay with them.

"I promised Bryan. You have to understand. I don't want to break my word."

I looked at the woman who had shared my bed for three years. She spoke with such sincerity about the promises she had made to another man, yet she had long forgotten the vows she made to me on the day we married. She had promised that she would love me forever. She had made countless other promises as well. Some she fulfilled only halfway. Others she never kept at all.

After Bryan returned, Gwyneth kept none of those promises.

I pushed down the bitterness rising in my chest. I wanted this farce to end as soon as possible.

"Nick, I do love you." When my expression remained blank, Gwyneth hurried to add, "Whether you believe me or not, my love for you and our child has never changed."

I listened and let out a quiet laugh.

"Your love for us has never changed?" I stepped closer and lowered my voice. "Ms. Sullivan, have you told so many lies that you forgot whose child is actually yours?"

She froze. Then she seemed to remember that Bryan and his parents were still there. Her expression hardened as she prepared to challenge me.

I raised a hand and cut her off. "Relax. I'm leaving now. I won't interrupt your family reunion."

The moment he heard that Gwyneth was sending me away, Bryan suddenly decided Sam was perfectly fine. He stopped insisting on the hospital. Instead, he even urged Gwyneth, in a considerate tone, to help me pack.

I let out a cold laugh and pointed toward the bedroom. "My luggage is already packed. I can leave right now."

Shock flashed across Gwyneth's face. By then, I had already put on my coat.

I went into the bedroom, lifted Prudence from the crib, and walked toward the door. "I had planned to let your mother help take care of the child for a while."

Relief flooded her face. She hurried after me and even called a taxi.

I knew why. Her car was already filled with Bryan's belongings. There was no space left for me.

I sat in the back of the taxi and watched the villa where I had lived for three years shrink behind us. I felt no attachment.

The car remained quiet. I closed my eyes as exhaustion settled over me. It felt as though I had just woken from a very long dream. A dream long enough to replay the first half of my life.

Loving her had taken up a third of it. Seeing who she truly was took only three months. Once I understood, the love vanished.

The taxi stopped in front of Hilda's house. Just as I opened the door to step out, a message from Gwyneth appeared on my phone.

Gwyneth: [Nick, wait a few more months for me. I will come get you. Once Bryan's situation is settled, I will clear your name and our daughter's. When that day comes, the three of us will never be separated again.]

I read her firm promises and gave a faint smile. I did not reply.

With one arm holding my daughter and the other pulling my suitcase, I walked toward her mother's house.

No disappointment remained. No compromise either. Only relief.

"Goodbye, Gwyneth," I muttered.

This was the last time we would ever see each other. From this moment on, we would have nothing to do with each other. Congratulations on losing me.

The next day, I boarded a plane. I knew that once I left, I would never return.

At the same time…

Gwyneth prepared to board her own flight when her phone rang. A friend was calling.

"Gwen, congratulations. Looks like you finally got rid of that burden at home."

Gwyneth's expression changed. She frowned. "What do you mean?"

Her friend paused, clearly surprised by the question. "You don't know? I just saw Nicholas at the airport. He brought that bastard child with him. They are about to board."

A chill ran through Gwyneth's body, as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over her head. Her hand trembled as she ended the call. She did not pause to think.

She ignored Bryan, who urged her to board. Instead, she turned and ran through the airport, searching frantically.