I finally couldn't hold back.

Like a trapped animal, I lunged at the painting, clawing at the viscous gray with my nails.

The paint and powder were smeared all over my hands and face.

"Nicole!" Rodger's enraged shout echoed as he rushed over and grabbed my wrist. "Look at yourself! Jolene painted this for Jacob out of kindness, and you've actually destroyed it!"

I was trapped by his grip and struggled in vain.

I looked at him, whom I had loved for five years, and cried out with a heart-wrenching scream, "She used Jacob's ashes to paint! Rodger, that's my son!"

Rodger's grip grew tighter, and his gaze turned colder. "Jolene uses Jacob's ashes to paint. It is just another form of remembrance! Jacob is gone!" He said, word by word, "Stop letting the past trap you and others!"

I collapsed onto the cold floor and stared at the ruined painting.

My heart, too, was being hollowed out bit by bit.

That night, I locked myself in my room.

At midnight, Jolene's screams pierced through the walls again. She was pretending to have nightmares again.

I heard Rodger's hurried footsteps and his gentle reassurances.

I lay alone in the empty master bedroom.

After an indeterminate time, I got out of bed. Driven by an inexplicable urge, I silently made my way to the guest room door.

The door was ajar, leaving a narrow gap.

I saw Jolene in a thin camisole dress, wrapping her arms around Rodger's waist from behind. "Rodger, I'm scared..." Her voice was soft and seductive, like a purr. "Stay with me tonight, won't you?"

Rodger's body tensed for a moment.

I wished he would push her away, just as he had done when a female colleague attempted to throw herself at him under the influence of alcohol years ago.

He had mercilessly pushed her away and said coldly, "Keep your distance. I'm married."

But this time, he didn't.

His body stiffened, and he kept silent for a few seconds.

Then he abruptly turned around and embraced Jolene fiercely. He kissed her with a wild intensity.

In the dim light, they were kissing. Their breathing grew heavier, with even faint, suppressed moans.

I stood outside the door and watched quietly.

I didn't burst in, nor did I cry out.

I simply raised my cold hand and silently closed the door completely, shutting out the scene and the sounds within.

I returned to my room and walked to the window. I gazed at the moonlight pouring over the bed.

With my heart completely numb, I didn't feel so much pain.

Rodger received a first-class merit award for his "outstanding performance" in the terrorist hostage crisis.

The government held a grand "Anti-Terrorism Commendation Ceremony" in his honor.

Jolene and I were asked to attend it because she was involved in it, and I was the "family of the victim."

At the banquet, Rodger and Jolene were surrounded by reporters and officials.

He wore a crisp uniform, and his epaulettes gleamed.

Jolene clung to his arm, dressed in a designer gown, with a triumphant smile.

The media's flashbulbs constantly flickered, lauding them as "partners who stood together in the face of fire and death."

I was seated in the most inconspicuous corner, unnoticed.

Rodger took the stage to deliver his speech.

Basked in the limelight, he framed the ruthless negotiation, the choice to sacrifice his wife and his son, as a "difficult game played for more people."

He said, "As a negotiation expert, I must insist that reason must always triumph over emotion. Every life is precious. The decision was painful, but I have no regrets."

The room erupted in applause.

Sitting in the corner, I watched the radiant man on stage and suddenly recalled when Jacob first learned to walk.

He was also surrounded by many people.

Rodger tried to make him laugh and lie on the floor, pretending to be a horse, regardless of his image.

He let Jacob ride on his back and grinned from ear to ear.

He lifted Jacob high and said, "Jacob, move forward boldly. I am always behind you and support you."

Now, he stood on his son's grave and won his own fame and accolades.

During the media interview, the microphone was handed to Jolene.

"Ms. Chapman, you have experienced this event. Do you have anything to say?"

Facing the camera, Jolene shed tears at the perfect time. She looked tragically beautiful. "First, I want to thank Rodger for giving me a second chance at life. I also feel sorry for Nicole for losing Jacob. She must be heartbroken. It's a pity... She might have been too scared at the time and didn't protect Jacob immediately, leading to the tragedy."

Her words distorted truths and made my stomach churn.

Overwhelmed by nausea, I rushed to the restroom.

Bent over the sink, I dryly heaved but couldn't bring anything up.

Jolene followed me in.

She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. She looked at my disheveled state with a sardonic smile.

She approached and whispered in a voice only she and I could hear, "You know what? Jacob died for me. It's probably the greatest value of his life. That was his honor."

As her words landed, I spun around and slapped her with all my might.

The sharp sound echoed.

Jolene didn't dodge. Instead, she threw herself back the force, landing with a theatrical flourish as the back of her head thudded against the wall.

She slid down and let out a cry of pain.

Rodger happened to walk in and witnessed the scene.

Jolene clutched her head and fell into his arms with tears welling up in her eyes. "Rodger... I just wanted to comfort Nicole, but she... she hit me..."

Rodger looked at me, and his eyes were filled with disappointment and anger.

He said coldly, "Nicole, where are your good manners? Why are you so rude? Jolene is also a victim. Jacob is gone, and she's sadder than you."

I was stunned and looked up at him. "You believe her words?"

"I only believe what I see." He interrupted me coldly. "Apologize to Jolene."

I looked at him and the woman in his arms, putting on a show. I bit my lip stubbornly.

I didn't apologize.

"Apologize to Jolene now!" Rodger's patience ran out, and his tone became stern. "Immediately. Right now!"

I still kept silent.

His gaze turned fierce. He suddenly leaned close and said in a lower voice, "Nicole, don't push me. Otherwise, you'll never see Jacob again."

The last bit of Jacob's ashes.

He knew that was my Achilles' heel.

Now, it had become his leverage to threaten me for the sake of Jolene.

My heart felt like it was riddled with sharp pangs, leaving it with countless holes.

Looking at Jolene's smug face, hidden in Rodger's embrace, I gritted my teeth and slowly bent down and bowed my head. I said, word by word, "I'm sorry."

On the way home, neither Rodger nor I spoke.

He suddenly slammed on the brakes and parked the car by the roadside.

"You didn't truly realize your mistake," he said coldly.

I remained silent.

"Get out! Reflect on your actions!" he shouted while opening the car door and pushing me out.

The black car sped away without a pause.

Soon, it rained heavily.

I walked alone on the empty road.

The rain was bone-chilling and blurred my vision.

Yet, my mind was clearer than ever.

From then on, there would be nothing left that could threaten me.

The torrential rain left me with a high fever for three days.

My body felt like it was burning in a raging fire, with a burning pain seeping through my bones.

In my feverish delirium, I dreamt once more of the abandoned factory.

Jacob was covered in blood, cried, and called for me.

I struggled to reach out, mumbling, "Jacob…"

The door burst open.

Rodger stood at the door, and his face was full of disgust. "Nicole, you did this on purpose, didn't you? You used the dead boy to morally blackmail me and make me feel guilty?"

I opened my eyes to see his face, brimming with impatience.

In the past, he had held me and warmed my stomach with his hands throughout the night when I was curled up in pain from my period.

Now, as I lay on the brink of death, he thought I was just acting.

I said nothing and mustered the strength to fetch an IV needle and medication from the medical kit under the bed.

I inserted the needle deftly, having the cold liquid flow through my veins.

Just then, my phone vibrated.

It was an encrypted message confirming my return time. "Twenty-four hours from now. "

I removed the needle and dressed in black.

On my last day before departure, I visited the cemetery.

In front of Jacob's tombstone, I gently brushed the dust off his photo with my fingers. "Jacob, wait for me."

On the way home, the car passed by the city's largest maternity store.

I saw Rodger with Jolene clinging to his arm.

He held a tiny pair of yellow baby shoes. He looked so tender.

He only wore that expression in front of Jacob and me in the past.

Watching Rodger carefully support Jolene, I remembered when Jacob first called him "Daddy."

He had held Jacob as gently as he was doing now.

Now, he was about to have another baby.

I didn't get out of the car. I just watched and then turned the car around and drove away.

That evening, Rodger returned home with Jolene.

They both looked joyful.

While Rodger went to the kitchen to get some water, Jolene sidled up to me and proudly caressed her still-flat belly.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered. "Rodger is very happy."

She expected to see me break down, but I merely looked at her calmly.

Her smug expression faltered.

Late at night, I entered the study and opened the safe.

I took out the divorce papers I had prepared long ago, signed my name at the bottom, and left a red mark with my fingerprint.

I put Jacob's ashes into a locket and wore it close to my skin like a necklace.

It was still dark.

I took one last look at Rodger, who was still sleeping.

I didn't hesitate or look back.

I quietly closed the door, leaving my marriage and the first half of my life behind.