It was the second week after he returned from a class reunion when Oscar Maxwell asked me for a divorce.

"What do you mean?" I asked, in disbelief.

We had been married for three years and our affection grew stronger with each passing day. Just recently, we gathered our families together to share the joyful news – we were planning to start a family of our own.

Oscar looked exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and a stubble that had been left unattended for days. He didn't dare meet my gaze, his eyes lowering slowly as he muttered, "It's only temporary. I can't just leave her alone."

Her.

He didn’t say a name, but I knew exactly who he meant.

The first love who had abandoned him.

"Sharon isn’t doing well right now. Her marriage is falling apart, but her husband refuses to divorce her. They're going through a court battle, and she's living alone. We had a past... We were together once. Now she's in trouble, and I'm the only one who can help her."

I stayed silent for a moment before asking, "So, she wants you to be her defense lawyer for the divorce?"

Oscar nodded.

He spoke slowly, "Her husband is powerful, and the case will be extremely challenging. Our divorce... it's just to protect you. In the future..."

He paused as if there was more he wanted to say, but I cut him off.

"Should I be thanking you for your thoughtfulness, then?"

Perhaps the sarcasm in my tone was too obvious, as Oscar's breath caught in his throat, and he fell silent.

I stood up, grabbed the coat hanging over the chair, and said, "Then let's get divorced."

Oscar shot to his feet, feeling nervous. "It's so late... where are you going?"

"From this moment on, we have nothing to do with each other."

I left those words behind and walked straight towards the door. But just as I reached the entrance, I couldn’t help myself. I turned back to face him and asked—

"Oscar, do you remember the night after Sharon abandoned you? When her people came for you? The beating was brutal. Back then, you swore to me... you'd make the one who betrayed you pay dearly."

The door closed slowly, blocking out the sight of Oscar's face, now drained of color, and swallowing the words I never said aloud: "Oscar, are you really so selflessly helpful, or is it that... you're just pathetic?"

…

Oscar and I were practically childhood sweethearts.

During our school years, he was an outstanding student with good looks.

Even though his family wasn't well-off, he was still quite popular with the girls.

I used to watch him toss love letters from his desk drawer straight into the trash, his face filled with annoyance as he told me he had no interest in dating and found the whole thing bothersome.

From that point on, I kept my distance, carefully hiding the small flutter of a teenage crush deep within me.

It wasn’t until later that I discovered he did make an exception.

That exception was Sharon Fox.

Sharon possessed a beauty that whispered of danger. In an era when uniformity reigned - identical bangs and cookie-cutter school attire - she dared to be different. Beneath her jacket, a camisole peeked out rebelliously, while her lips gleamed with shimmering gloss. She was a spark of audacity in a sea of conformity.

One day, she cornered Oscar between classes, asking him if he wanted to do something thrilling.

Oscar tried to avert his gaze in disgust, but in the next moment, she hooked her arm around his neck and planted a bold kiss on his lips.

Watching his face turn bright red, Sharon giggled. "You're so shy."

"Let's date."

At that moment, I was standing at the other end of the hallway, holding the lunchbox Oscar’s mom had asked me to bring to him, watching in a daze as the boy I liked chose someone else.

Taking all the meat out of his lunch was the only way I could express my anger.

Of course, he didn't care at all.

His heart and mind were filled only with Sharon and the thrill of a new relationship.

I cried and decided to give up on him.

But fate, ever the trickster, had its own designs in store.

They broke up soon after.

When Sharon got bored, she dumped Oscar without a second thought.

She quickly turned her attention to the new transfer student, the school bully, who later became her husband.

The school bully came from a wealthy and powerful family, someone who could give her everything she wanted—money, status, excitement.

Oscar refused to let things end like that.

He kept looking for her, over and over, until the school bully noticed.

That was when the bullying began.

Oscar's father had passed away early, and he had been raised by his mother, often relying on my family for help during the toughest times.

How could he ever stand a chance against someone with wealth and power?

I still remember the day our college entrance exams ended. Everyone else was celebrating, but I was out in the rain, searching through the streets until I finally found Oscar, barely conscious in an alley.

His exam admission ticket had been torn to pieces and thrown to the ground, and he was bruised and battered, his face swollen and blackened.

The moment he saw me, he grabbed me in a tight hug, his whole body trembling.

"They want to destroy me," Oscar said through clenched teeth. "I swear I'll make the one who abandoned me pay dearly."

All I could do was try to comfort him. "Everything will be okay."

Suddenly, he looked up and stared straight into my eyes.

"Joelle, you're all I have left."

He said it like that.

But I avoided his gaze and whispered softly, "I'll wait for you to retake the exams."

I didn't want to take advantage of anyone's vulnerability, nor did I want to be anyone's substitute. I would always be myself, as Joelle Widney, through and through, never one to settle for less.

I remained guarded until he retook his exams, got into my university, and spent three whole years chasing after me.

He said, "I finally understand what I missed out on."

There was such sincerity in his eyes that I finally decided to be brave, just this once.

The prince had finally turned around to see the Cinderella behind him, and everything seemed like the perfect ending in a fairytale.

…

Seven years later, at a class reunion.

Oscar arranged everything a week in advance, buying me an expensive dress, a handbag, and shoes — the entire outfit was costly.

I couldn’t help but laugh. "This is a bit over the top."

He simply said, "I just want everyone to see how happy you are as my wife."

But in the end, I couldn’t make it because of an urgent matter at work.

Oscar wasn't pleased. While I was in a meeting, he kept calling me. When I didn’t answer, he started bombarding me with text messages.

“Joelle, we're about to start a family. Can’t you just quit that pointless job? It’s our class reunion today, and so many old friends will be there. What do you want them to think of me? That I’m some kind of failure who can’t even support his own wife?”

I took a deep breath and replied as quickly as I could, "Oscar, I'm not a trophy for you to show off."

Even if my salary was much lower than his, it was still a job I loved, and no one could take that away from me. A woman in a marriage must have her own source of income.

Oscar's final text read: "What's more important, your job or our marriage?"

I decided to turn off my phone.

But late that night, after the meeting had ended, I got a call from another classmate saying Oscar had drunk too much and passed out at the restaurant.

Panic gripped me instantly.

Despite being exhausted and hungry, I hailed a cab and rushed over.

Oscar had indeed had too much to drink. The moment he saw me, his eyes reddened, and this six-foot-tall man collapsed into my arms like a bear.

He murmured against my neck, “Honey…”

"I'm here." My heart ached for him as I struggled to lift him. “Come on, let's go home.”

But the next moment, he threw up all over my pants and shoes.

I gasped, quickly shoved him into the car, and prepared to head home immediately.

Just then, a slender figure came running out of the restaurant.

“He left his wallet behind.”

Without looking, I took it and thanked her, ready to leave. But she suddenly gripped the car door.

"So, you're his wife."

The challenge in her voice was so palpable that my head snapped up in an instant.

The neon lights from the distant street flickered, casting colorful shadows over the woman.

Seven years had passed, and she had become even more alluring. Her wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her floral V-neck dress revealed just enough to be provocative. Her makeup was flawless, and her red lips were tempting.

"Sharon," I managed an awkward smile, "long time no see."

How could it not be awkward?

I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the side mirror — a tired, worn-out face after a long day of work, no makeup, hair messily tied back, and vomit stains on my clothes.

It had been seven years.

But every time I saw her, I felt like the loser.

…

Thankfully, Oscar broke the silence.

He seemed a bit more sober, yet not entirely. His head rested on my shoulder as he mumbled my name.

"Joelle, my wife..." he slurred, "I shouldn’t have called you and interrupted your work. Please, don’t be mad at me, okay?"

My heart softened completely.

I knew what he was worried about.

When I decided to be with him, my friends and relatives all disapproved because he came from a poor family, just a kid with nothing to his name.

So, Oscar spent these years pushing himself hard, determined to prove that being with him wasn’t a mistake and that I wasn’t settling for less.

He wanted me to quit my job, to dress up and look perfect at important events—just to prove himself.

In the beginning, life was tough.

We lived in a damp basement, where the ceiling leaked endlessly whenever it rained, and we had to place small red plastic basins to catch the drips.

Amidst the steady rhythm of dripping water, we clung to each other, and Oscar, his eyes fierce with determination, would whisper again and again, "Joelle, I won't let you down."

He always felt like he owed me, but that wasn’t true.

Even during those days when our pockets were empty, I was happier than many.

He would cook all three meals for me every day, pick me up from work in the pouring rain, and fight anyone who dared to upset me. He gave me everything he had, never keeping even a coin for himself.

He wasn’t a perfect boyfriend, but he was the boy who, if he had ten dollars, would give it all to me without keeping a cent for himself.

True love could endure anything.

At that moment, as he held me in the cab and called me his wife, his words echoed in my mind again.

So, I lifted my head, gave Sharon a genuine and confident smile, and said, “Yes, we’ve been together for seven years now, and we’re very happy.”