It was my 30th birthday, and my husband said he had a surprise for me.

However, on the day of my birthday, he was nowhere to be found.

I called him countless times, but no one answered. Just as I was about to panic and consider calling the police, I happened to see a post on the social media feed of his female secretary.

“A typhoon hit, and my boss was worried about my safety, so he personally took me home. How wonderful! I’ve got a guardian angel for myself!”

My anxiety turned to cold calm in an instant. I commented on her post: “Traveling during a typhoon is dangerous. Tell him he doesn’t need to come back.”

Not long after I posted the comment, my husband called. “Kelly, I was only concerned about the safety of my subordinate, and yet you’re thinking such vile thoughts.

“Birthdays come every year. Missing one won’t kill you!”

You were right. Birthdays came every year.

But there was no way I would celebrate them with you.

I hung up in silence as I listened to his reprimand on the other end. Then, alone, I finished the birthday cake for my 30th.

When Casey Lewis finally returned home, he frowned at the sight of the bare room and the empty table.

“Aren’t you celebrating your birthday? Why didn’t you prepare anything?” he asked, irritation creeping into his voice when he saw that there were no decorations in the living room.

I looked up at him with indifference. “Everything suddenly felt meaningless. I don’t feel like celebrating anymore.”

Casey lost his temper. “Are you crazy, Kelly Jones? You called me while I was out and insisted I come home for your birthday. Now that I’m back, you’re telling me you don’t want to celebrate? Are you messing with me?”

I met his gaze, my tone unfeeling. “When did I ever tell you to come home? I said you didn’t need to.”

Casey ignored the detachment in my voice. He sat across from me, continuing his rant.

“How am I supposed to know which of your words to believe? You’re thirty years old, but still clinging to these childish celebrations. I’m always forced to waste my time on whatever you want.”

In the past, I’d put so much effort into decorating the house for our wedding anniversaries and birthdays, carefully preparing a table full of his favorite dishes, all to celebrate together.

Turns out, all that effort was just a waste of his time.

After a moment, he pulled a box out of his bag and tossed it onto the table. “Here. I got you a birthday present. Now stop making such a fuss.”

I opened the box and looked inside. Inside was a scarf—an imported brand-name item—but it was just a free gift offered for customers spending over a hundred thousand at their stores.

Without a word, I threw it straight into the trash.

Casey, seeing what I’d done, kicked the trash can in fury, toppling it. “What are you fussing about, Kelly? Isn’t that your favorite brand? I got it for you specially.”

I looked at him, my face blank. A bitter smile crossed my lips. “You got me a free gift, just for me?”

Casey was momentarily speechless, then muttered defensively, “I’m not good at buying gifts. I just grabbed the first thing I saw. I didn’t know it was a freebie.”

What a terrible liar. Free gifts aren’t displayed for sale. If this had been before, I might have pushed him for answers and demanded to know who he’d been shopping for. However, I no longer cared enough to expose him.

“Let’s get a divorce, Casey,” I said evenly.

“Stop with the nonsense, Kelly. I’ve been working my tail off for this family,” he snapped back.

Once, I would’ve believed that. I’d always made sure our home was in order, letting him focus on work without worry.

That was until half a year ago, when his new secretary, Helena Lorne, added him on Instagram.

Through her posts, I finally learned what Casey was really “working hard” at. In her photos, he was no longer the man who went straight to bed the moment he got home. He was attentive, considerate, romantic—even funny.

Every time I confronted him about it, he brushed it off, saying it was just friendly concern between colleagues. He accused me of being petty, of imagining things, of seeing “filth” where there was none.

I looked him in the eye. “That’s why we should get a divorce. So you can stop working yourself like a dog for me.”

Seeing my seriousness, Casey muttered helplessly, “It’s just a gift. I’ll get you a new one.

“You’re an adult, Kelly. You’d be a laughingstock if people found out you’re losing your marriage over a gift.”

I shook my head and replied firmly, “That’s not necessary. From now on, I don’t like anything from this brand anymore.”

It reminded me of how I once thought I couldn’t live without Casey, believing I loved him too much to let go.

Now, I realized that giving up was far easier than holding on.

Casey assumed I was just being difficult by rejecting his gift. Ignoring my reluctance, he dragged me into the car, insisting we go out so he could buy me something.

Outside, the wind howled fiercely.

Inside the car, silence lingered. My gaze fell on a black, lacy bra lying on the car seat.

Casey quickly put it away, stammering, “It’s not what you think. Helena’s just careless. She bought it and left it in my car.”

I looked away, nodding. I muttered, “Alright.”

Casey glanced at me, puzzled. “You’re not mad?”

I met his eyes, calm and indifferent. “Didn’t you say she left it in your car? Why would I be mad?”

The drive continued in silence, with Casey frequently casting glances my way.

“Kelly, aren’t you going to say anything to me today?”

Whenever we were together, I was always the talkative one, filling him in on every detail of my day, big or small. However, looking at him now, I had no desire to speak.

“Yes, I do have something to say. Let’s get a divorce.”

It was the only thing left to say.

Casey’s expression turned sour. “That’s enough. Stop bringing up divorce over such trivial things. If I actually agreed, you’d just end up crying and begging…”

Just then, his phone rang, cutting him off.

Helena’s faint, tearful voice echoed through the line.

Casey frowned, sounding anxious. “Lock your doors. I’ll be there soon.”

After hanging up, he accelerated and turned to me. “Something urgent came up. You should get out here.”

I looked at the howling winds outside, disbelief filling my voice. “You want me to get out of the car here?”

He immediately unlocked the doors. “The mall’s only about a mile away. It won’t take long to walk.”

I stayed put. “Casey Lewis, this isn’t about going to the mall. There’s a typhoon out there. Are you really throwing your wife out of the car to rush to your secretary?”

Frustrated, he snapped, “The wind broke Helena’s window. She’s in danger. This is life and death, Kelly. You can’t be throwing a jealous fit right now!”

When I refused to move, Casey pushed me out of the car. Before I could steady myself, he sped off.

The wind felt like blades slicing through me. I stumbled to the ground, pain surging through my body. It was as if the heavens themselves were mocking me for stubbornly clinging to Casey.

I didn’t head to the mall. Instead, I turned around and walked home. The rain eventually came, and I ended up walking two hours through the storm.

The rain washed away every last feeling I had for Casey.

Once home, I changed out of my soaked clothes and took a hot shower.

Checking Instagram afterwards, I wasn’t surprised to see Helena’s latest post.

“The man I love is a hero. He came to me through the storm. I always feel safe when he’s by my side!”

The post included a picture of Casey’s silhouette from the side.

For the first time, I agreed with her. How could he not be her hero when he abandoned his wife in the middle of a typhoon to rescue her?

Later that night, I developed a fever from being caught in the rain. My body ached, and I felt dizzy. Just then, a phone call woke me.

It was Casey. “The company’s anniversary celebration is today. You need to attend with me. I’m almost home; wait downstairs.”

Before I could say anything, he hung up.

My head was spinning, and I felt weak all over, but I got up to change, thinking I might go to the hospital.

Anniversary celebration? To the devil with it.

As I reached downstairs, Casey pulled up. He lowered the window and looked displeased when he saw my pale face and casual attire.

“Kelly, there should be a limit to your attitude. Today’s the company’s anniversary celebration, and you’re trying to embarrass me by dressing like that?”

I looked at Casey, suited up and sitting in the car, and said weakly, “I’m not interested in attending the celebration. I’m sick. I need to go to the hospital now.”

As I told him this, I began to walk away, circling the car.

Casey unbuckled his seatbelt, got out, grabbed my wrist, and shoved me into the backseat.

“What do you want from me, Kelly? You used to make a fuss when I didn’t take you to company events, and now that I am, you’re pretending to be sick!”

As I struggled, I raised my hand and slapped him. “Have you forgotten what you did last night?”

Guilt flashed in Casey’s eyes, and his tone softened for once. “I was wrong to leave you behind, but it was an emergency. Saving a life comes first.”

I looked at him, a sarcastic smile forming on my pale face. “I had no idea you were working part-time as a firefighter.”

He looked flustered and stammered, “Helena is a single woman without friends or family nearby. I was just showing her some concern. Stop making baseless accusations.”

Then he added, “I’m taking you to the anniversary celebration to make it up to you. Haven’t you always wanted to show off as the boss’s wife?”

Show off?

At that moment, I realized Casey had never truly understood me.

“I don’t want to show off anymore. Not now, not ever,” I replied calmly.

Casey’s face showed a flicker of panic, but he shoved me into the car. “Enough. I don’t care if you embarrass me with how you’re dressed; just stop being difficult.”

In the end, I was dragged along to the celebration.

In the luxurious private room, everyone was dressed to perfection. I was the only one in casual clothes, looking pale and out of place. I barely recognized anyone; all the partners Casey started the company with were gone.

He’d once told me who had sold their shares and left, and I’d comforted him, saying he might work with them again someday. Looking back, I realized they must have seen Casey’s selfish, heartless nature before I did—and cut their losses early.

Helena, in a sleek black dress, approached me with a dainty smile, looking me up and down.

“You’re really thrifty, Mrs. Lewis,” she cooed. “No wonder Mr. Lewis always keeps you hidden. It must be nice having such a practical wife, someone who knows how to save and take care of the family,” she added, toying with the necklace around her neck—a designer piece worth nearly $300,000, something she couldn’t afford on her salary alone.

Her words dripped with malice, and everyone around us watched eagerly, hoping for drama between the wife and the mistress.

I smiled coolly. “Enjoy the position while it lasts.

“A man with a wandering heart belongs in the trash.”

Casey’s expression soured. “What nonsense are you spouting, Kelly?”

“Consider it nonsense if you like. I’m exhausted. I don’t have the energy to keep playing along. I’ll have the lawyer send over the divorce papers later.”

A sharp pain twisted in my abdomen, and all I wanted was to leave and get to a hospital.

Helena blocked my path, feigning concern. “Mrs. Lewis, did you misunderstand my relationship with Mr. Lewis after last night?”

She continued, “Today is the company’s anniversary celebration. If you leave now, it’ll embarrass Mr. Lewis. I’ll drink three glasses to apologize.”

She tossed back three glasses of red wine and then handed one to me.

“Please accept this, Mrs. Lewis. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

I glanced at her. “I don’t feel like drinking.”

Helena turned to Casey, looking delicate and vulnerable, her cheeks flushed and eyes teary.

Casey took the glass from her and shoved it at me. “You can handle a drink. Helena has already apologized with three glasses. Don’t make a scene.”

I stared at him coldly. “Is that what you call an apology? She’s taken my husband, and I’m supposed to accept a toast from his mistress?”

Casey’s face darkened. “I’ve told you, we’re just colleagues. Stop being paranoid and accusing people of things.

“You should accept an apology when it’s given to you!”

Suddenly, he grabbed my chin and forced the wine down my throat.

I choked as the wine spilled into my mouth, some of it dribbling down my chin, leaving me looking utterly disheveled.

Dizziness swept over me, and a sharp pain shot through my abdomen as I staggered and collapsed to the floor.

Everyone gasped.

Helena smirked. “Looks like Mr. Lewis was right—you do enjoy a bit of drama, Mrs. Lewis. Just one glass, and here you are, acting drunk!”

Casey had initially reached out to steady me but froze when he heard Helena’s remark. “She’s right! No one gets drunk off one glass. Are you pulling another stunt, Kelly?!”

Then someone suddenly cried out, “There’s blood… She’s bleeding…!”