I was struck by a car and left bleeding profusely. Asher, the man who once knelt before my parents, vowing to protect me forever—didn’t even glance my way. He was too busy fastening the seatbelt for his childhood sweetheart, his eyes full of affection.

“Little dummy, if you bump your head again, don’t come crying to me,” he said with a playful smile.

A passerby called an ambulance for me, and that was the only reason my bleeding finally stopped.

A week later, that same childhood friend, Camilla, strutted up to me, holding a bold, seductive nightgown. She dangled it in front of me with a smug grin.

“Avery, I told him this nightgown would look best on you, but Asher insisted on giving it to me. Do you want it?”

I looked at her calmly and spat, “No, I don’t.”

In fact, I no longer wanted anything from Asher—my husband of six years.

That night, as I felt the emptiness of my abdomen, I packed my bags and went to the beach for a half-month vacation. During those days, Asher’s calls came in like a storm.

“Where did you go? Weren’t we supposed to go to the prenatal appointment yesterday?”

——

His frustrated voice echoed through the phone.

I took another bite of ice cream, saying nothing. The sound must have registered because he sighed, his tone changing.

“Avery, are you eating ice cream again? The doctor said no cold food while you’re pregnant.”

I gave a bitter laugh and took another big bite. “There’s no baby anymore.”

Two weeks ago, when that accident happened, I clutched my abdomen, pleading with Asher to take me to the hospital. But he didn’t even look at me. He was seated a short distance away in his car, eyes only for Camilla, his beloved childhood friend. He gently buckled her in, his expression filled with tenderness and flirtation.

Meanwhile, I lay in a pool of blood, feeling the life inside me slowly slipping away.

I spent seven days in the hospital after that, while Camilla filled her social media with updates the entire time.

[Today, my childhood sweetheart took me skiing! I can’t ski, so he taught me so patiently—who else would understand?]

[Today, my childhood sweetheart and I climbed a mountain. The kiss at the summit—who else knows what it feels like?]

[My childhood sweetheart said I’m his one and only baby!]

They reveled in their carefree happiness, leaving his wife and unborn child far behind.

So, when I told Asher that our child was gone, he didn’t believe me, and only scoffed.

“Don’t be so dramatic. I just forgot about the prenatal appointment yesterday. It’s not that big of a deal. I'm just too busy and forgetful these past few days. Don't worry. I’ll take a day off tomorrow to go with you.”

“Where are you now? I’ll come get you.”

I ignored him and hung up. He called several more times, so I switched off my phone.

When I finally returned from the beach, the first thing I saw outside the airport was Asher’s car parked by the roadside. He rolled down the window, his gaze indifferent as it settled on me.

“So you still know when to come back, Avery,” he sarcastically spat. Clenching his jaw, he added, “You’re pregnant; you shouldn’t be wandering around like this. My mother’s right—you should stay home.”

He frowned, his eyes falling to my belly. I wore a loose, flowing dress, which hid everything from his gaze. I got in the car, put on my headphones, and sat in the backseat.

After a while, the car still hadn’t started, Asher was staring back at me with a slight furrow in his brow.

"Why are you sitting in the back?"

I hadn’t quite heard him, so I pulled out one earpod and asked, "What did you say?"

Asher's expression was unreadable in the backlight. "You always used to sit in the front seat."

I lowered my head, letting out a soft laugh as memories surfaced. Like most girls, I had once believed that the front passenger seat was the wife’s exclusive place. But that illusion shattered the day I found a pair of someone else’s thong under that very seat. Since then, just thinking about the front seat made me feel sick.

I thought he’d just asked in passing, but he pressed for an answer.

I smiled faintly and said, "Nothing. I just realized I was too naive before."

Asher didn't respond and midway through the drive, he got hungry and stopped at the restaurant we both loved.

"I’ll have the Crispy Crab Cake. What about you? Do you still want Lime Butter Shrimp?"

I nodded, continuing to scroll through my phone. He tried starting a conversation a few times, but seeing my lack of interest, he eventually gave up.

When the food was ready, Asher brought them over himself.

“Avery, I remember you don’t like cilantro, so I made sure to pick it all out for you.”

Perhaps he thought he could bridge the distance with a plate of food, his tone now gentle and considerate.

But I simply stared at the plate in front of me, completely devoid of cilantro, and chuckled.

In the six years of our marriage, I’d always eaten Lime Butter Shrimp with extra green onions and cilantro. The one who couldn’t stand cilantro was Camilla.

Ignoring him, I got up and quietly asked the owner, "Could you please add some cilantro?"

Asher froze mid-bite, realizing something, and his face shifted slightly.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I guess I’ve been so busy lately that it completely slipped my mind. How could I forget you like cilantro!”

I looked at his sloppy acting with mild amusement and let it pass without comment.

After we finished eating, we passed the intersection where my accident had occurred. Even though it had been over two weeks, thinking about it made my chest ache.

After six painstaking years of trying, I’d finally conceived—only for the life I carried to end in that crash. It had taken my love and marriage with it.

Taking a deep breath, I sent a quick message to a lawyer friend, [Help me draft a divorce agreement. I’ll treat you to a meal soon.]

Suddenly, the car jolted forward as Asher pulled the handbrake. "We’re home."

He got out to help me with my luggage, while I continued to type on my phone, making my way upstairs.

As I opened the door, what should have been an empty home was filled with the sound of light footsteps.

“Asher, you’re back?” Camilla trotted over, wearing my nightgown and two rabbit-ear clips in her hair. Her smile froze when she saw me at the door.

“...Avery.”

Seeing her innocent-looking face, a wave of anger surged in my chest.

Before I could say anything, Asher hurried to explain. "Honey, Camilla’s just staying here for a few days."

This wasn’t the first time. We’d argued more than once in the past because of her presence in our lives. But now that I was set on divorcing him, I actually felt a strange calm.

Forcing a smile, I moved to go past her and head to my room—until the sight before me stopped me cold.

All my belongings had been thrown out, strewn in a heap by the door. My clothes and cosmetics lay scattered like trash, and my designer handbag, which I had saved three months’ salary to buy, was tossed against the wall, scratched deeply by something sharp.

I took a deep breath and clenched my fist, forcing myself to stay calm. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Seeing my anger, Camilla immediately shrank behind Asher, her expression like a frightened kitten.

“Ash, I told you Avery would be upset. What should I do? It’s all my fault. Maybe I should just move out...” she croaked.

Asher gave her a comforting look and instinctively shielded her, frowning slightly as he turned to me.

“Avery, Camilla needs to stay in the master bedroom. There's nowhere to put your things, so just pile them up here temporarily.”

I laughed in disbelief.

If they wanted to play out their little fantasy, they could at least leave me out of it, right?

Shaking my head in frustration, I picked up my things to take them back to the master bedroom. “She can stay, but in the guest room.”

I’d barely taken two steps before Asher blocked my path.

“The guest room’s cluttered with storage items; it’ll take time to clear it out. Besides, Camilla isn’t in good health and needs a room with better light. She’ll just use the master bedroom for a few days; you can sleep in the study for now.”

His tone was so matter-of-fact that I stared at him, stunned. This was the man I’d been married to for six years, the one who had knelt in front of my parents and promised to protect me forever. I thought I already knew him, yet he repeatedly refreshed my knowledge.

We had three bedrooms in the house—one master and two guest rooms. Since my pregnancy, Asher had moved to one of the guest rooms to ensure I had a peaceful night’s rest. The other guest room was filled with storage and unused items.

Looking at my personal belongings piled haphazardly by the door, I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. “You had time to move my things, but not to clear out the guest room?”

Squinting my eyes, I spat sarcastically, “Asher, you knew the guest room wasn’t ready—why did you bring her here?”

“Can’t she stay at a hotel? How can you tell your wife to sleep in the study?”

Asher stood like a protector, keeping Camilla safely behind him. Seeing my fury, he frowned and said, “Hotels aren’t clean, and Camilla’s always been sensitive. She can’t sleep well in unfamiliar places.”

“Avery, you know how fragile Camilla’s health has been since we were kids. Anyway, it’s just for a few days.” He then sighed, as if making a generous compromise. “I know this is hard on you, so how about you sleep in the guest room, and I’ll take the study.”

He looked at me with the earnest belief that he was offering a fair and reasonable solution. But all he’d done was make me lose all faith in him.

I turned my gaze to Camilla’s innocent-looking face, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Can’t sleep well in unfamiliar places? But somehow you’re fine with my bed?”

“Well, Ms. Brooks, since you’re so fond of taking other people’s things, consider it yours.”

I let my things drop, then dialed a moving company.

Camilla, playing the victim, clutched my sleeve and apologized softly. “I’m sorry, Avery. I didn’t realize you’d be this upset about me staying here. It’s all my fault. I’ll move out right away.”

But she made no move to leave. Instead, with tears shimmering in her eyes, she continued, “Ash, please don’t ruin your marriage because of me. It’s my fault this time. Please, go and comfort Avery...”

Asher looked at her, filled with sympathy and affection. The more she lowered herself, the more protective he became.

“You don’t have to leave,” he said, patting her shoulder. “It’s just the master bedroom—I still get to decide who stays in it.”

Then he turned to me with a cold glare.

"Avery, I bought this house. It's up to me who uses it," Asher said, his tone cold. "It’s just Camilla borrowing a room for a few days. Is it really necessary for you to be this unreasonable?"

I stared at him, speechless.

It was true he bought this house, but he seemed to forget that I used to own one too. When his company was on the verge of financial ruin, he held me from behind, pleading desperately, “Honey, let’s sell your place. I’ll buy it back for you as soon as the company is back on its feet.”

At first, I refused outright. "Isn’t there any other way?" I asked him, shaking my head. "That place is part of my family's legacy—it was my parents’ gift before we got married. I don’t want to sell it.”

But he was determined, and for two weeks, he tried everything to convince me. Seeing him—a grown man of six feet—cry helplessly, clutching his knees in despair, broke my heart. So, I finally agreed.

After the crisis passed, I waited for him to buy it back, but every time I asked, he brushed me off with vague excuses.

“It’s not a good time to buy property now; we’d lose a lot on it,” he said. “And besides, isn’t this place our home? I’d never kick you out.”

Now, I could only laugh at that idea of "our home."

I sat quietly on the sofa, waiting. Asher seemed to think I’d come to my senses and exhaled in relief. But a moment later, there was a knock at the door, and I got up to answer it—but Asher was one step faster than me..

“I’ll get it!”

At the door were movers in work uniforms, glancing between us, confused. “Hello, we’re from the moving company. Which items are we packing up?”

Asher froze. “You must have the wrong address. No one here is moving.”

I got up and cut him off. “Actually, I am. Come on in.”

Stunned, Asher looked back at me. His face grew tense as he saw me avoiding his gaze altogether. “What are you doing? This is the only place you have. Where would you even go?”

Ah, so he knew this was my only home. “So you were counting on the fact I had nowhere else to go to treat me like this?”

He faltered, but then his expression turned icy again. “Avery, what is going on in your head? Camilla’s only here for a few days. She’s not trying to claim the master bedroom permanently. Can’t you just stop making a scene?”

"I'm not making a scene," I replied, calmly packing my belongings with the movers, not even sparing him a glance.

Frustrated, he kicked one of my boxes, breaking it open, as if to force me to stop. I just looked at him coolly, letting the movers seal it up again.

"Asher," I said, watching him with calm disdain, "this only makes me more disappointed in you."

A flash of panic crossed his eyes. He took a step closer, trying to hold me. "Avery..."

Behind him, Camilla suddenly burst into tears. "It’s all my fault, Asher! If it weren’t for me wanting to stay, you wouldn’t be in this situation, and Avery wouldn’t be so upset.”

Asher's hands stopped in mid-air as he let go of me, turning instead to comfort his little “soulmate.”