When I went to my friend at the law firm to help me draft the divorce papers, her eyes went wide with disbelief, just like when she found out I was marrying Marshall.

Back then, she asked, "Are you really sure about him? He's a total playboy, you know?"

Now, her question was different. She asked, "He treats you so well. Are you really sure about this?"

I thought it over carefully, then looked her in the eye and said, "It's just a divorce agreement. Better safe than sorry."

Five years ago, Marshall had turned down a match with someone from a well-established family. He boldly declared he'd give up everything to marry me, shocking everyone around us.

Because I was the one he wanted.

Not Crystal, my dazzling sister, who had shone at international cello competitions, but me. The second daughter of the Paynes, the one no one liked—neither my parents nor the men around me.

At first, people thought I was just a way for Marshall to get back at someone. After all, he'd introduced Crystal to the best professors, yet she quietly decided to go abroad without even discussing it with him.

But less than a month later, Marshall posted a picture of our marriage certificate and even got me a position at his company.

It was as if, overnight, the people who once looked down on me suddenly became friendly. Even my mother, who rarely paid attention to me, softened and helped me get ready for my wedding, personally styling my hair.

Back then, I thought maybe, after being overlooked for twenty years, I had finally caught someone's eye.

Even if the start wasn't ideal, I was willing to be brave—for once, just for myself.

I worked overtime, day and night, pushing myself to be as capable as him. I took charge at home, making sure his family couldn't find a single flaw.

The first time Marshall saw his usually critical mother—who had once swore at Crystal to the point of making her leave with anger—warmly hold my hand and refuse to let go, he stared at me, completely stunned, his face full of confusion and disbelief.

It was like, from that moment on, he realized I wasn't as weak and useless as the rumors made me out to be.

He started learning to accept me and even began to... love me.

He stopped being a playboy and started spending time with me, gardening and cooking. As long as he wasn't on a business trip, he'd always be home before midnight.

When I saw his car lights from a distance, I'd prepare a warm drink to help him recover from a long day.

And when he came through the door, he'd grab my hand, kiss the ring on my finger, and whisper in my ear, "I'm so tired today. I missed you."

That closeness made it too easy to fall.

He started treating me so well that I almost believed he was really in love with me. He was so thoughtful that I almost let my guard down and trusted him completely.

Then, a month ago, I received an anonymous text.

[You've worked hard these past five years, but next month, I'm coming back. Some things need to be returned to their rightful owner.]

[Isn't that right, Linette?]

Her tone was confident, almost smug. I felt dizzy, like the world spun around me.

Why was it that when she left for abroad, she could abandon everything and have others clean up after her, and now that my life was finally settling into place, she could just waltz back in and stir everything up?

[I'm happy with my life. I have no plans to divorce.

[Neither does Marshall.]

I gathered every ounce of courage I had before sending it. But she didn't even bother to reply. The silence that followed was deafening.

The next moment, I got a notification from the bank regarding a deposit of 2 million dollars from my husband, Marshall.

The note attached read, [Sorry].

In an instant, it felt like a bucket of ice-cold water was poured over me, snapping me awake.

Of course, without his approval, how would she be foolish enough to send a provocative message to my phone?

Just like Marshall, she valued her pride above everything else, so proud that she could boldly interfere in someone else's marriage without a second thought.

I turned off my phone and poured the warm drink down the kitchen drain.

Tonight, he wouldn't be coming home.

Five years... It was time for the dream to end.

I almost did fall for you, didn't I? That was close.