It's our third wedding anniversary. On this day, Zoey Hayes, who has had a crush on my husband for three years, flaunts their love on her social media.

On the day of our third wedding anniversary, Zoey Hayes, who had secretly admired my husband for three years, posted a photo on her social media.

The caption read: "The world shouldn't bring me such joy, but then you appeared."

In the Live Photo, she leaned against a man's chest, and his hand was placed on hers, resting over her heart. The man's face wasn't shown, but the voice unmistakably belonged to Logan Bennett, my husband.

"If only you could always stay with me," she said.

"I'll always be by your side," he replied.

I commented: "You two deserve each other."

Soon after, Zoey called to explain, "Victoria, Logan didn't miss your wedding anniversary on purpose. Please don't be angry. It's all my fault. You can direct your anger at me and spare Logan."

I didn't say a word.

Logan, on the other hand, snatched the phone and scolded me, "Victoria, how can you be so cold and unreasonable? Look how considerate Zoey is. Stop making a fuss for no reason."

In the past, I would have rushed over to assert my position to everyone.

But this time, I genuinely wished them well. They could be together as they wished because I was ready to leave.

...

When Logan got home, I was tidying up the balloons and streamers in the yard. For our third anniversary, his students had arrived early to celebrate with us.

However, the leading man himself didn't come home until 3:00 am.

I ignored the somewhat awkward and guilty look on Logan's face as he stood to the side and continued cleaning up. Somehow, my indifference provoked him.

"Don't give me that attitude. It's just a wedding anniversary. Compared to a life, which one is more important? You've never faced real hardships growing up. You're 30, yet you still act so petty."

"Logan, I..." I whispered, my voice trembling ever so slightly. I was tired—not just physically, but emotionally.

The balloon in my hand burst accidentally, making a sharp noise.

Logan frowned and reprimanded me in a tone I had never heard before. "It's already so late at night. Even if you're angry, find a different way to vent. Don't you think you're being loud and rude? Aren't you worried about disturbing the neighbors?"

Zoey was more important than our anniversary. And keeping up appearances was more important than me or my wellbeing.

Even though I knew it was the truth, a wave of indescribable disappointment washed over me.

Logan and I had grown up together. We were childhood sweethearts. One was quiet and scholarly, while the other was lively and athletic.

We had always been the only one for each other… But that was until Zoey appeared.

Logan used to say he loved my straightforward nature and sunny disposition. He had once said I lit up his life like the sun. Now, he described me as being "loud and rude".

I didn't have the strength to argue. Cleaning up the remnants of a once-joyful yard had already drained me.

Wordlessly, I continued tidying the grill. Logan seemed to realize he'd been harsh with his words and reached out to help me.

Just then, his phone rang. His mocking ringtone blared, and it sounded extremely grating against my ears. "Hey Hubby, your Wifey's calling you!"

"Don't get jealous again. It's just something to comfort Zoey. She set it up for fun," Logan hastily explained.

The charcoal from the grill tipped over, scattering embers onto my foot. I endured the burning pain and looked up at Logan.

A flicker of guilt flashed across his face. But as Zoey's tearful voice came through the phone, even that guilt vanished.

I shook my head and pushed away his hand as he tried to steady me.

"Logan, I think my depression is acting up again. I feel like I should just die. But before I do, I want to hear your voice one more time," Zoey sobbed through the phone.

Hearing this, Logan immediately turned and hurried toward the door. "Zoey, don't do anything foolish. I'm on my way."

He paused briefly at the door, his body trembling slightly.

I understood that he felt conflicted and was making a choice. He was pondering whether to stay and comfort me as I was injured or to go and console Zoey, who needed his voice.

In the end, he chose to leave.

Standing alone in the yard, I felt a wave of weakness wash over me and collapsed onto the grass on my knees. I listened to the sound of his car fading into the night.

The pain in my foot seemed to numb, but the ache in my heart only grew clearer.

I knew our relationship could never go back to what it once was.

It was as if the last bit of strength had been drained from my body. But all of a sudden, I experienced a sense of relief and clarity.

Since I had already made my decision, why should I continue to torment myself?

Logan was a neat freak, but I wasn't.

So, I casually set the cleaning tools aside. Ignoring the pain in my foot, I quickly freshened up and collapsed onto the soft bed. Whether it was due to the pain in my foot or for some other reason, I didn't sleep well that night.

When I woke up with dark circles under my eyes, Logan still hadn't come back. Hence, I had no choice but to take care of my own matters first.

The wound on my foot had started to fester. The redness and swelling forced me to make a trip to the hospital.

Soon, I was seated on a cold plastic chair as I waited for the nurse to apply the medication for me.

Through a thin curtain, I caught sight of Logan carefully attending to Zoey. Her left hand was wrapped in bandages, seemingly the result of self-harm.

Logan spoon-fed her some oatmeal porridge, his movements gentle and attentive.

"It's too hot," Zoey whined.

Logan blew on it lightly. He was as tender and meticulous as he had been with me back when we were dating.

Being the germaphobe that he was, he never ate street food but had been willing to accompany me. One time, the corn dog I ate burned my mouth so badly that I hopped around in pain. He had been even more distressed than I was back then.

He held my corn dog with one hand while swiftly pulling out a small carton of milk from his bag with the other. Then, he inserted the straw carefully and brought it to my lips with caution.

The cool milk instantly soothed the burning sensation in my mouth. Logan's eyes were full of concern, and only after my discomfort eased did he allow a relieved smile to appear on his face.

Even now, I never doubted his love for me. However, even the love that had once been true could shift in an instant. His tenderness was now reserved for someone else.

Just as I snapped out of my reverie, my stomach growled at the most inopportune moment.

This caused Zoey to look up and see me. When her gaze landed on my bandaged foot, a sly smile spread across her face.

She said with a pout, "Don't you think I'm annoying, Logan? I can't do anything right. I'm not like Victoria. She's strong and comes from a well-to-do family."

Logan immediately comforted her, "What's so great about her? She's nothing but a rude and brash woman. You're better, Zoey. You're gentle and understanding. Don't worry about that. What matters most is taking care of your health."

His words dripped with indulgence.

Zoey shot me a provocative look, as if declaring her victory.

But in the next second, she spoke with mock concern. "Don't say that. She'll get upset."

"What right does she have to be upset with you? If she causes you any trouble again, I'll make sure to teach her a lesson," Logan said harshly.

I thought I'd better get away from Zoey's deliberate flaunting and taunting.

But to my dismay, the nurse called out to me, "Ms. Collins, your medication hasn't been applied yet."

Logan turned around in shock and locked eyes with me as I crouched over awkwardly in my attempt to hobble away.

I forced a nervous smile, but his anger flared immediately.

He snapped, "Why are you always so sneaky? Were you eavesdropping here?"

I explained defensively, "I wasn't eavesdropping! I was here to get my foot injury treated—"

But before I could finish, Zoey stood up in a hurry and lunged toward me. She began, "Logan, don't—"

However, her words were cut short as she seemingly slipped and fell forward with her bowl of hot oatmeal porridge.

"Ah!" I cried out in pain.

The oatmeal porridge spilled squarely onto my leg, while Zoey fell right into Logan's arms.

I couldn't help but curse inwardly at these two idiots. Of all places, they managed to scald me right where it hurt the most.

"I'm sorry, Victoria. I was so scared when I saw you that I accidentally…" Zoey didn't even finish her sentence before she covered her face and began to weep noisily.

Logan immediately shielded her behind him and carefully checked the injury on her wrist. He didn't spare a single glance at me, his wife who had just been burned.

The heat of the oatmeal porridge seeped through my clothes, causing a sharp sting. Tears involuntarily streamed down my face. I wasn't even sure if it was from the burn or from the pain in my heart.

"Stop pretending, Victoria. Zoey didn't do it on purpose," Logan said, his tone full of displeasure.

"It's all my fault. I'm so clumsy and useless. I might as well just die," Zoey sobbed, burying her head into Logan's chest. Her fragile demeanor made it impossible not to pity her.

Standing together, they looked like a couple who had weathered life's storms. Meanwhile, I felt like the outsider ruining the scene.

"Will you be coming home today? I have something to discuss with you." I spoke up, my voice calm and emotionless.

Only then did Logan finally notice the festering wound on my foot. A complicated look flitted across his eyes. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but Zoey tugged on his arm.

"Logan, I need to go for my check-up now," she said.

Logan hesitated for a moment before helping Zoey up and walking away with her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Zoey's expression. Standing behind Logan, she smiled smugly. It was a provocative smile laced with the arrogance of a victor.

Her gaze seemed to say, "See? He's chosen me, after all."

The hospital lights were harshly bright and cold. While the chaos of the hospital surrounded me, I felt an unusual sense of calm.

"Your burn needs to be treated," the nurse said, interrupting my thoughts. Her voice was warm and professional.

I nodded, allowing her to guide me into the treatment room. The sharp scent of disinfectant stung my nose, but for some reason, it felt more real than anything else.

It was fine. Ten years of love… Well, it didn't matter if those ten years of love crashed and burned one or two days later.