There are over thirty people in the group, most of whom are Daniel's childhood friends, along with a few college classmates. After Daniel and I got together, he added me to the group. But since joining, I’ve never said a word, and I’m pretty sure they’ve forgotten I exist.

Daniel didn't respond to the question in the group, nor did he go to pick anyone up last night. After dinner, he went to the study alone and didn't come out all night. This morning, after he left, I opened the study door and was almost knocked out by the smell of smoke. The ashtray on the desk was overflowing with cigarette butts.

All day today, the group chat has been buzzing, mostly discussing the welcome party for Freya tonight. In the morning, a girl in the group posted a photo, reigniting everyone’s excitement. She had secretly taken a candid shot of Freya while they were out shopping. In the photo, Freya was admiring cosmetics at a counter, wearing a fitted red camisole dress that perfectly outlined her delicate figure. Her dense, curly hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, revealing her fair and striking profile.

Someone in the group commented: "Holy shit, is that Freya? Her figure is amazing now!"

"With such killer looks, I wonder if Daniel can handle it."

"I'm already looking forward to tonight's welcome party."

In the afternoon, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Clark, as usual, commanded, "Ask Daniel if he's coming home for dinner tonight." Not fully confident, she warned, "Just send a message, don’t call and disrupt his work!" Ever since we got married, she has steadfastly reminded me every afternoon to text him about dinner. Initially, this interaction was sweet for both of us. When he received the message, he would grin and call back, saying, "Is my wife missing me?" But somewhere along the line, he stopped responding. On bad days, he’d snap, "Dinner, dinner! Is that all you care about? Do you ever talk about anything else?" I explained to him that it was his mother telling me to ask. He didn’t believe me, saying I shouldn’t blame everything on her. So, when I sent the message today, I was quite anxious, especially with all the excitement about Freya in the group making me wonder about his mood.

To my surprise, he replied: "Coming home."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Mrs. Clark is a classic hypocrite. Once, during dinner, my phone rang a few times, and she commented sarcastically that the Clark family was nobility with dining rules, not like some small families who play with their phones at the table. Since then, I’ve gotten used to putting my phone on silent at home. But if her daughter uses her phone during dinner, it's just a child being playful and not yet mature. She forgets that her daughter is only a year younger than me. If her son’s phone keeps ringing, it's because he's busy with business, being the family's primary breadwinner, beyond reproach, and she’d pity him for his hard work.

It seems the Clark family's rules were tailored just for me, meant to constrain me. But I'm beyond arguing about such things. When we first got married, I tried to reason with them but realized they aren't reasonable people. In the end, I was the only one left exhausted and worn out. I’m so tired. I’ve learned that the safest approach with them is silence.

Now, Daniel's phone is buzzing again. Maybe he can’t take it anymore. He finally picks it up and lights up the screen. Whatever he saw made his face change, and he got up and walked out.

"Daniel, has something happened at the company? Take it easy, slow down!" Mrs. Clark hurriedly tried to catch up with him.

She turned to me, eyes glaring, "Hurry up and take Daniel's coat to him. It's cold tonight, and you have no sense at all!"

I picked up the suit jacket from the foyer, but when I reached the yard, all I saw was Daniel's car speeding away.

Seeing me return with the coat, Mrs. Clark was visibly annoyed, "Utterly useless!"

I ignored her and headed straight upstairs.

In the bedroom, the nanny was watching over the baby who was sound asleep.

I gestured for her to leave and closed the door behind her.

Now, it was just me and my sleeping daughter in the entire room.

This tranquility was a rare and luxurious indulgence in this house.

Without anyone disturbing, I could escape those harsh words and disdainful looks.

My daughter was only six months old, spending most of her time asleep.

I loved watching her sleep, so peaceful and beautiful.

After showering, I lifted her from the crib and nestled her onto the big bed next to me.

I initially planned to check the messages in the group chat, but now I had no curiosity at all.

I didn't even feel like opening my phone.

I realized that I had no interest whatsoever in knowing why Daniel had a change of face, why he suddenly left, or what they were discussing in the group.

Whether he ended up going to the welcome dinner or was still hung up on Freya, I couldn't care less.

I no longer had possessiveness or curiosity towards Daniel.

In fact, I wished he would appear less before me, so as not to affect my mood.

I didn't love Daniel anymore.

After the baby was born, even though we had a nanny, Mrs. Clark insisted on breastfeeding.

She said breast milk was more nutritious and better for the child.

Whether it was truly for the baby's benefit or just to deliberately torment me, I didn't bother to find out.

After all, Mrs. Clark would only pretend to hold the baby for a few minutes when Daniel was home.

When he wasn't home, she wouldn't even glance at the child.

I knew that her preference for boys over girls make her resentful of the baby being a girl.

The child was mine; I loved her and wanted to be close to her.

So when Mrs. Clark demanded breastfeeding, I didn't oppose it.

The baby needed night feeds, so she had to sleep with me.

Mrs. Clark, worried that the baby would disturb her son, suggested we sleep in separate rooms.

Daniel agreed and moved to the guest bedroom next door.

Even now, we still sleep in separate rooms.

Since the baby's birth, I haven't had a full night’s sleep.

But over time, I’ve adapted to her schedule, waking twice every night to feed her.

Last night, I slept exceptionally well.

In the morning, I was awoken by the baby’s affectionate nuzzling.

Opening my eyes, I was greeted by her wide smile and drooling mouth.

The sunlight was streaming in from outside.

"Oh baby, you woke up even earlier than mommy!" I began to play with her.

She giggled with delight.

After feeding her and playing for a while longer in bed, I finally got up.

Glancing into the adjacent bedroom, the bed remained untouched; I couldn’t tell if Daniel had returned last night.

I went downstairs for breakfast; Mrs. Clark and Daisy were already out.

Once finished, the baby fell asleep again, so I asked the nanny to take her upstairs.

Sitting on the sofa, I turned on my phone; the messages in the Facebook group chat were overwhelming.

As I quickly browsed through, I finally understood why Daniel had left in a hurry yesterday.

Originally, he’d intended to hold out and skip the welcome dinner.

Despite countless mentions in the group, he hadn't responded.

But a single photo shattered his resolve.