My husband has slept around thousands of times, yet he has never agreed to a divorce.

His family calls me a low-class nobody who's unfit to be seen.

Five years ago, the first time I asked for a divorce, Hugo Hudson said nothing. He simply locked me inside the villa for a full month. A month later, I discovered I was pregnant.

Three years ago, I brought it up again. That very night, Hugo returned to his family's estate. Soon after, I was granted the right to see my child once a week.

Today is the third time. And this time, I can finally leave.

Because I've realized something at last: my child doesn't love me, and my marriage was never real to begin with. I'm no different from the women he keeps outside.

When we met again later, Hugo's eyes reddened the instant he saw me.

My friend's wedding used the very plan I once created for my own.

Back then, I spent half a year designing every detail of the ceremony. Hugo Hudson rejected it in less than a minute. After a perfunctory wedding ritual, he made me a promise. No matter how much he played around outside, I would always be his legal wife.

And today, he brought his mistress to this wedding.

The moment I stepped into the venue, all kinds of looks shot my way. Curious. Gossipy. And some, tinged with pity.

Only Hugo remained as calm as ever, his expression light and indifferent. "You're here."

I glanced at the young girl clinging to his arm and nodded calmly.

After seven years of marriage, his affairs were nothing new. I'd long since grown used to it.

The groom looked awkward, clearly unprepared for this scene.

"Hi, Mia. Please, take a seat."

I gave him a restrained smile, grateful for his attempt to smooth things over.

My assigned seat was already taken. The uninvited guest occupying it had Hugo's protection. He flicked a glance at me and spoke casually, as if it were nothing.

"Your seat's taken. Find another one."

Years of swallowing everything without protest had carved obedience into my bones.

"All right."

The moment I sat down, I could feel the stares around me grow even more blatant.

The groom looked apologetic. When he was called away, he even asked his family to look after me.

Compared to Hugo, even he cared more about how I felt.

The wedding began as scheduled. The bride, wearing the wedding gown I had designed, walked down the red carpet I had arranged. She married into the happiness I never had.

Everything looked exactly like the dream I once envisioned. Except the one living that dream wasn't me.

The girl on Hugo's arm was very young; her expression was innocent and lively.

"Mia, I heard from Hugo that you're really good at flower arranging. Could you make me a bouquet too? Just like the one the bride's holding."

The atmosphere froze instantly. Everyone at the table exchanged glances, not daring to say a word.

I set down my fork and instinctively looked at Hugo.

He affectionately ruffled the girl's hair, then lifted his chin toward me, giving an order.

"What are you sitting there for? Go on—hurry up."

Meeting his mocking gaze, I paused for a moment. Then I smiled, suddenly at ease.

I pushed my chair back, stood up, and turned toward the exit without hesitation.

Hugo nodded in satisfaction and urged, "Move faster."

I didn't respond. My steps never slowed.

From the banquet hall to the hotel entrance, and from the entrance to the street—I didn't look back once.

Passing a trash can, I slipped off the ill-fitting red-soled heels on my feet and tossed them inside.

If something doesn't fit, no point keeping it.

The instant my bare feet touched the ground, I let out a long breath. It felt as though even the invisible shackles wrapped around me had finally vanished.

After seven years of marriage, I finally felt grounded.

I had just gotten home when Hugo called.

"How long are you planning to make one bouquet? Don't you know Alice is waiting for you?"

I idly adjusted the flower arrangement on the table and replied without interest, "I never agreed to make a bouquet for her. Besides, I'm already home."

Hugo let out a cold laugh. "Mia, you've grown bold, haven't you?"

"Mhm."

To his surprise, I calmly agreed with him.

The breathing on the other end of the line grew rapid for two seconds. Hugo snorted in anger.

"Fine, Mia. You've got some nerve."

After hanging up, I opened my messaging app and texted a lawyer.

Me: [Hello, Mr. Nichols. I'd like to consult about divorce procedures.]

…

When I put my phone down, the housekeeper was already helping me pack.

"Madam, are you sure you don't want any of these?" She stood in the walk-in closet, staring at the wall lined with luxury goods.

Those were all things Hugo had bought specifically for me to attend banquets. He had once said, "Mia, I don't care what you were like before. Since you married me, you need to cover up that poor, unlucky stench of yours. Don't embarrass me."

Thinking of that, I shook my head and spoke lightly, "I don't want any of the luxury items or gowns. Just pack up whatever's left."

The housekeeper looked troubled.

"Madam… other than these, there really isn't much left to pack…"

I froze for a moment, then couldn't help laughing.

She was right. After seven years of marriage to Hugo, the things that truly belonged to me had always been very few.

In this enormous villa, the space that was mine amounted to no more than half of the bed in the bedroom. That half of a bed summed up my seven years.

That night, Hugo didn't come home. I slept soundly.

The next day, I took the packed luggage and prepared to leave. I left nothing behind—except for a crystal snow globe.

From dating to marriage, that was the only gift Hugo had ever given me.

Back then, I had just come to Harpley City to study. Hugo fell for me at first sight. He was straightforward and passionate then, waiting on the road I took back to campus every day just to exchange a few words with me.

The snow globe was from that time. He said it was the first gift he'd ever bought without asking his family for money, earned through three days of part-time work.

He said the snow inside the globe would never melt, and neither would his love for me.

Seven years had passed. The snow inside the globe was still the same as ever. But his love—I didn't want it anymore.

After leaving Hugo's home, I checked into a hotel.

Less than a day later, Hugo called.

"Mia, where the hell did you run off to? Hurry back and clean up your junk!"

I replied calmly, "I don't want it anymore. Just throw it away."

Hugo paused, then asked, "Mia, are you serious?"

"Mm."

My tone was light. I truly didn't care anymore. "Throw it out. It's not anything important anyway."

That was when he seemed to hit a raw nerve.

"Not important? Do you even know that back then I—"

"Back then, what?" I let out a short laugh and cut him off.

"Are you referring to that crystal snow globe? Its retail price is only six-fifty. What kind of part-time job takes three days and pays that little?"

I'd heard this after we were married, once when Hugo was drunk. He'd said, "I just grabbed a random snow globe off the street and fooled you into marrying me. Mia, you're really easy to fool—and cheap."

Only then did I realize that Hugo hadn't changed at all. He'd simply stopped bothering to pretend.

After hanging up, I went to the law firm where I'd made an appointment.

After reviewing my situation, the lawyer looked troubled.

"Mia, you should understand this yourself. Given the Hudson family's standing, a peaceful divorce is almost impossible."

Of course, I knew that. That was why I was willing to give up what was rightfully mine.

"What if I don't want any assets? I can leave with nothing."

The lawyer looked slightly relieved, but still hesitant. "Does Mr. Hudson want a divorce as well?"

I shook my head, my heart sinking.

This wasn't the first time I'd wanted to leave Hugo.

Five years ago, the first time I asked for a divorce, Hugo said nothing. He simply locked me inside the villa for a full month.

A month later, I found out I was pregnant.

Three years ago, when I asked for a divorce the second time, Hugo returned to his family estate that very night. Soon after, I was granted the right to see Avery once a week.

Seven years into the marriage, Hugo had always known exactly where my weaknesses lay. He made sure I couldn't leave, couldn't escape—kept tightly in the palm of his hand, a ridiculous puppet.

Today was the third time.

Perhaps out of sympathy, the lawyer still accepted my case.

When he took the marriage certificate I handed over, his eyes widened.

"Mia, this marriage certificate… is fake. You and Mr. Hudson were never actually married."

"What?" I shot to my feet, convinced I'd misheard. "How could my marriage certificate be fake? Look again—carefully!"

The lawyer adjusted his glasses and examined it once more.

"I'm very sorry, Mia. This certificate truly is fake."

I laughed, though tears streamed down uncontrollably.

Seven years. Two thousand five hundred and fifty-five days.

Every single day, I asked myself hundreds of times: Why did I believe Hugo? Why did I agree to marry him? Why did I tolerate his family, who were cold, merciless monsters?

It took me seven years to face reality, and six years to gather the courage to divorce.

And now, the lawyer was telling me… I had never been married to Hugo at all.

No wonder his family treated me so poorly. So that was it… I really was no different from the women outside.

After wiping away my tears, I thanked the kind lawyer and slowly walked out of the firm.

If there had never been a marriage, then separating would be much simpler. There was only one thing I couldn't let go of—Avery.

Avery was my child with Hugo. He was five years old this year.

When I gave birth to him, I had dystocia and severe hemorrhaging. I nearly died on the operating table. Through the haze, I heard the doctor ask Hugo whether to save the mother or the child.

Hugo didn't hesitate. "Save the child."

Those cold words jolted me awake from the brink of death. Over and over, I told myself, 'Mia, you can't die. Even if Hugo doesn't love you, you still have a son. Avery can't grow up without a mother.'

Clinging to that thought, I dragged myself back from the edge of death. It could be said that Avery was the most important reason I was still alive.

Yet less than two days after he was born, Hugo's mother forcibly took him away.

She said, "Mia, not letting you raise Avery is for his own good. Don't forget, you're just a nobody who clawed her way out of some poor backwater. If Avery stays by your side, he'll be looked down on just like you."

In that instant, I lost all strength to struggle.

I thought… she was right. I had nothing to give Avery. Being with Hugo's mom was what was best for him.

I exhausted myself trying to convince my own heart. Yet time and again, in the dead of night, I still couldn't stop myself from clutching the clothes and toys I'd prepared especially for Avery, crying until I could barely breathe.

When Hugo was occasionally woken by my sobbing, he would send me a video of Avery. Relying on those videos, I endured three years—one thousand and ninety-five days.

It wasn't until Avery turned three that Hugo's mom finally agreed to let me see him once a week.

Today was our scheduled visiting day.

When I arrived at the Hudson family estate, it was eerily quiet. I stood outside calling for more than ten minutes, but no one opened the door.

Yes. After seven years as "Mrs. Hudson," I still had no right to enter the Hudson family estate at will.

A passing servant, unable to bear it, told me that Avery had been taken away early that morning by Hugo.

I let out a bitter smile. I understood perfectly—this was Hugo punishing me.

Over the years, whenever I showed even the slightest disobedience, he would refuse to let me see Avery. And every time, I was forced to bow my head, trading my dignity for a single chance to see my child.

Taking a deep breath, for Avery's sake, I finally called Hugo.