As soon as I lay down on the guest bedroom bed, an email popped into my inbox.

"Miss Sullivan, congratulations on being accepted into our Jewelry Design program. Please confirm your attendance at your earliest convenience."

A sense of liberation floated from the email, pulling the corners of my mouth into a smile. My stagnant life was finally moving forward.

The next morning, just after I got up, Rhys Kennedy's assistant was already waiting in the living room. I glanced at the folder on the table and said to him, "If you've got other things to do, go ahead. I'll get him to sign it."

The assistant hesitated, checked his watch, and then handed me the folder before leaving. I placed the divorce papers neatly in the middle of the folder and started preparing breakfast for myself.

When Rhys got up, I was eating a bagel. He gave it a disdainful look and said, "Why eat that? I want oatmeal."

I finished my last bite, stood up, and handed him the folder. "Reuben brought this over this morning."

Without even looking, Rhys opened and signed it, taking the opportunity to tease me about doing the assistant's job for him. After I took the folder back, I prepared to put on my shoes and leave.

Rhys, sounding impatient, called out from behind me, "Adelaide, I want oatmeal!"

I turned back to him calmly. "I need to return the documents and then head to the clinic."

Just as Rhys was about to say something else, Bailee Rose emerged from the bedroom. "Mr. Kennedy, did I oversleep?"

While Rhys turned to talk to her, I opened the door and left, not witnessing the significant look he shot my way as the door clicked shut.

Once outside, I pulled out the divorce papers. Years of being together had worn me down to almost nothing, and Rhys hadn't even bothered to glance at what he was signing. The cooling-off period for the divorce would be thirty days—thirty days until I could leave.

After returning from the law firm, I went straight to the bedroom and started packing my luggage. Rhys looked surprised. "Didn't I say you don't have to move out?"

I paused before offering a casual excuse. "With Miss Rose living here now, it's inconvenient for me to stay."

Whatever Rhys wanted to say was stuck in his throat by my words. From the clinic visit onwards, he thought I'd changed somehow. Just as he was about to ask, Bailee called him for dinner. Once he left, I closed my eyes briefly and continued packing.

I laughed to myself as I looked at the tiny section of clothes that were mine. Six years of marriage and this was all I had in this home. After packing my clothes, I put the gifts I'd given Rhys over the years into trash bags. Every Christmas and birthday, I had prepared something for him, all now collecting dust in the corner. Clearly, they no longer held any meaning.

Dragging my suitcase to the guest bedroom, Bailee warmly invited me to join them for dinner. Rhys was awkwardly slicing roast beef beside her, not sparing me a glance. I forced a smile. "No thanks, you two enjoy."

Rhys looked up at me when he heard that, but I calmly turned my gaze and walked to the guest room.

"Wait!" Rhys suddenly called out. I turned back to him, puzzled. "Join us," he suggested, sounding awkward.

Taken aback, I declined in the end. Rhys hadn't expected my refusal; he barked, embarrassed and annoyed, "Eat if you want, don't if you don't!"

I put down my luggage and accidentally caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My features were delicate and pleasant, but when my lips curled into a smile, it felt like a mask slipping into place. There was an unspoken weariness in my eyes. I forced a bitter smile; I hardly resembled someone in their late twenties. Just a little longer, and I'd finally be free.

I was lying in bed, nearly asleep, when Rhys suddenly burst through the door, panic written all over his face. "Adelaide, come with me! We need to take Bailee to the hospital; she burned her hand!"

I instinctively frowned, about to refuse, but Rhys had already started pulling me along.

"Mr. Kennedy, there's really no need for Adelaide to take me to the hospital; it's just a little... ouch..." Bailee winced, clutching her hand where a few drops of hot olive oil had splattered. It certainly looked painful.

"Burns can be serious; it might leave a scar," Rhys said urgently. As I watched the scene unfold, my mind wandered to the scar on the back of my own left hand.

That day, when Rhys had some friends over for a barbecue, Bailee had deliberately spilled a whole pot of boiling sauce on my hand. When I confronted her, Rhys protected her, looking at me with disdain and saying, "Bailee didn’t do it on purpose, and you're fine, so stop making a fuss."

I ended up numbing the pain with painkillers before taking myself to the hospital, leaving a scar on my hand.

Watching Rhys now, so anxious, I realized he actually knew that burns could leave scars. It only mattered because, this time, it wasn’t me who got hurt.

On the way to the hospital with Bailee, we hit rush hour. Rhys kept urging me to drive faster from the back seat. As the light turned green and I began to accelerate, a runaway sedan careened towards us. The collision was sudden, and I felt a crushing pain in my lower body.

Rhys’s voice came from the back seat, tense. "Adelaide! How do you feel? Hang in there, the ambulance is on its way!"

Hearing his unharmed voice, I remembered the rear of the car had taken the brunt of the impact.

"Adelaide..." Rhys began again, but Bailee's cries of pain distracted him.

"Bailee, where are you hurt? What hurts?" Rhys asked, his concern clear.

"I'm just sore in my hand; you don’t need to worry about me, really. Adelaide seems seriously hurt; you should check on her," Bailee said weakly.

Rhys's worry only deepened at her words. He asked Bailee to hold on a little longer, reassuring her the ambulance would be there soon.

When the ambulance finally arrived, Rhys pulled the medical personnel over, insisting, "There's someone hurt here! You have to check on them!"

The urgency in his voice suggested a severe case, prompting one doctor to follow him. Shortly after, I heard the doctor reprimanding him, "You’re wasting our time! This person is fine!"

Rhys, usually so concerned about his public image, started causing a scene at the crash site, threatening to report the doctor for neglect.

Reluctantly, the doctor bandaged Bailee's hand. As Rhys intended to take her to the hospital, he passed by me, just rescued moments before. Upon seeing the wounds on my legs, he froze, a look of genuine panic crossing his face for the first time. "Adelaide, are you in pain? I'll find the best doctor for you right away!"

Bailee then spoke softly, "I'm sorry, Adelaide. It's my fault; I shouldn’t have asked Mr. Kennedy to take me to the hospital. I should have endured the pain, then none of this would have happened."

Her pitiful look only deepened Rhys's concern for her, and he quickly turned back to comfort her, leaving my injuries forgotten.

When the medical staff asked if I had any family, I calmly closed my eyes and replied that I didn't. "Let's go."