My CEO wife, Vivian Lynch, suffers from chronic insomnia and can only fall asleep with the pillow mists I make.

At our seventh wedding anniversary dinner, her male best friend, Earl Cain, pours a basin of hot water onto the old cypress tree in the backyard.

I rush to save the tree in tears.

Earl gets on his knees and apologizes, "I'm sorry, Allen. I did not know that you use this tree's leaves to make the pillow mists."

Vivian comforts him gently and orders her men to tie me to the trunk of the tree.

She says with a scoff, "If this tree is so precious, then you can spend your life guarding it!"

After I hurt my hands from this ordeal, the first thing I do is to demand a divorce.

On one night a month later, Vivian, who is unable to sleep, goes to the backyard and sees the withered old cypress tree there.

On the seventh day of us not speaking to each other, Vivian finally came home. The dark circles under her eyes were very noticeable.

"You haven't made any new pillow mist in a while, have you?"

Vivian suffered from severe insomnia. In the past, she had only been able to fall asleep thanks to the pillow mist I made from the leaves of the old cypress tree.

I kept scrolling on my phone, barely paying attention as I fobbed her off.

"Yeah. I've been feeling lazy lately."

I had indeed been lazy. The ingredients for the pillow mist came entirely from the old cypress tree in the backyard of my parents' house. The journey was long, and the weekly excursions that ate up half my day and all my energy would leave me utterly spent.

"It wasn't like Earl meant any harm. You're being unreasonable by continuing to make a fuss about it," she said while taking a bottle of fruit wine from the fridge and sipping it slowly.

Throughout our standoff, the fruit wine Earl had found was her new method for trying to improve her sleep.

Vivian dropped a few ice cubes into her glass and shot me a sidelong glance.

"Earl didn't know what that tree meant to you. To make amends, he tracked down this spice estate. I've already had someone close the deal, and it'll be put under your name. So, let's consider the matter closed."

I found it rather laughable that she was using our shared money to purchase an estate by way of an apology on behalf of her personal assistant.

My wife was ever the generous one.

I kept it to myself, though. What came out was all courtesy.

"Fine. Tell him I said thanks."

The nonchalant expression Vivian had been wearing since she got home cracked at that moment. She looked at me with nothing but annoyance.

"Allen Osborne, what else can you do besides being jealous?"

I calmly met her gaze and said, "Get a divorce. Instead of spending your time going with your little boyfriend to buy an estate, why not just sign the divorce papers? It's not like you to take a whole week to get your signature down on something."

Vivian stared at me for a few seconds, then finally lost all interest in talking to me. She sat down on the couch and started scrolling on her phone.

Now and then, she'd furrow her brow in thought, as if she were working. I might have believed that if I hadn't caught her flirting with Earl on Instagram.

"Earl, you look really handsome today. Is it because you know I'm taking you out to dinner tonight?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I only dressed up because I'm having dinner with Mr. Lynch later."

Line after line of endearments and affection across the screen, set against the quiet of the room, told me once again that getting a divorce was the right decision.

I lowered my head and wiped the corner of my eye. In the past, arguing with her would have been my only option. Now, I had no reason to debase myself over a dead marriage.

"Did you upset my dad again?" Vivian asked.

Prompted by Earl's "friendly reminder", Vivian finally initiated a conversation with me.

"In a few days, Earl's going on a trip with Dad to help smooth things over for you. If only you'd learn a thing or two from Earl! Maybe then you'd finally show some sense."

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly.

"I'm already stepping aside so that you can marry him. Does that still not count as being sensible enough?"

Vivian shot me a dark, threatening look.

"Allen, is stirring up trouble the only thing you're good at?"

I finally stood up, giving up on my last attempt to communicate with Vivian.

"Maybe. Oh, and by the way—since you clearly don't have time to sign the divorce papers, I've already had my lawyer, Joshua Bennett, file for divorce."

"Don't worry. I'll cover all the costs myself," I added.

I approached Mr. Bennett after the family banquet ended.

On the day of the family banquet, Earl poured a basin of hot water over the old cypress tree right in front of me. Then, he looked at me tauntingly and said, "Let's see if Vivian will still want you now that you can't make the pillow mist anymore."

The only thing Vivian carried with her every day was the pillow mist I made for her. No matter how jealous Earl got, there was nothing he could do about it.

In my desperation to save the old cypress tree, I accidentally pushed him.

Yet, I never expected that when Vivian saw it, she would have me tied to that old cypress tree and leave me dangling there all night.

No matter how much I begged for mercy, she simply said, "Take some time to think about what you did."

Then, she hooked her arm through Earl's and walked away.

I fought to untie myself until late into the night, so much so that my hands had turned a terrifying shade of purple from poor circulation.

As if sensing my despair, the thick branch of the old cypress tree broke.

I held onto that final sliver of hope and called Vivian.

The moment the call connected, her cold voice came through.

"Allen, haven't you learned your lesson yet? You frightened Earl today, so I need to keep him company. Don't bother me unless you're dying."

Then, Earl's affectionate voice rang out. "Vivian, it's your turn to shower."

Trembling, I hung up and lay on the ground, letting my tears soak the earth beneath me.

Finally, I called Mr. Bennett.

…

In the living room, Vivian still thought I was being unreasonable.

"Allen, you have no one to blame but yourself for what happened yesterday!"

Me?

I laughed. "You're right. It's all my own fault that I've ended up in this situation."

…

It was because Vivian was kidnapped that I came to meet her.

At the time, she was locked in a pitch-dark warehouse. My father, Thomas Osborne, rescued her and brought her home.

She was covered in injuries when she was rescued, so Dad asked me to take care of her.

As we spent more time together, we gradually developed feelings for each other. Even after her parents took her home, we still kept in touch.

Perhaps due to post-traumatic stress, Vivian began suffering from insomnia and couldn't find relief no matter what treatment she tried.

She said the moment she closed her eyes, she'd be back in that dark, decaying warehouse. There was no light, and no one else was there. I wasn't there either.

As much as hearing that broke my heart, there was nothing I could do.

Then, one day, she came back to visit Dad and unexpectedly fell asleep under the old cypress tree in our yard. She had her first full night of peaceful rest in a long time.

I started making pillow mist from the leaves of the old cypress tree and sending it to her.

She carried it with her every day, and her insomnia gradually improved.

Later, so that I could always prepare the freshest pillow mist for her, I gave up an opportunity to study abroad and instead chose to enroll in the art program at her college.

On graduation day, Vivian took my hands, which were covered with scratches. As she looked at them, tears of heartache fell.

To help her company expand into new markets, I put down my paintbrush and began accompanying her to various networking events. The two of us worked together seamlessly and soon carved out a place for ourselves in the market.

One day, after drinking, she took my hand and murmured, "You were the one who pulled me out of the darkness. I want to hold your hand for the rest of my life."

Her cheeks were flushed. As she spoke, her eyes sparkled like a sky full of stars.

Against my better judgment, I nodded.

That very night, we pledged ourselves to each other for life.

However, now, she had personally destroyed the very hands that gave her a second chance at life.

The night of the family banquet, Mr. Bennett took me to the hospital, only for the doctor, Saul Hart, to tell me that the nerve damage in my hands was so severe I might never be able to draw again for the rest of my life.

Mr. Bennett suggested I press charges against Vivian for assault.

I turned him down for the time being and told him to focus on the divorce proceedings first. If that didn't go through, we could always bring in the additional evidence later.

The pain of rehab therapy ripped me straight out of my memories.

Dr. Hart looked at my hand, and the sorrow was plain on his face.

"What a shame. If you'd been brought in just an hour earlier, your hands could've been saved."

I smiled, though my face was as pale as a sheet.

"It's okay. At least I'm free now."

No more pulling all-nighters on design drafts for the sake of Vivian's career.

No more getting my hands scratched while plucking cypress leaves.

And no more chasing after Vivian, waiting for her to look back.

After prescribing me some medication for nerve regeneration, Dr. Hart said, "Mr. Osborne, the insomnia treatment you provided to the hospital has passed clinical trials and is now being rolled out across hospitals citywide. On behalf of the hospital, I'd like to thank you once again."

The outcome didn't surprise me.

Many hospitals couldn't do anything about Vivian's insomnia, and this treatment was the only way she could fall asleep. After all my years of fine-tuning it, it now worked as well as ever, if not better.

As I walked out of the rehab room, I ran straight into Earl. He barrelled toward me then stopped short.

"Allen, don't you ever get tired of stalking us? Why is it that everywhere we go, there you are?" he asked. His eyes were full of contempt and disdain.

We?

Right. Where Earl was, Vivian was never far away. Ever since he came back from abroad, these two had been inseparable.

I didn't want to see Vivian, much less watch the two of them being all over each other like something out of a wildlife documentary.

Just as I was about to leave, she appeared right in front of me.

"Are you stalking me?" she questioned in a voice dripping with annoyance and disdain.

To be fair, I couldn't really blame her for thinking that. After all, I'd trailed after her for seven years, from high school all the way through college. Even I would have come to the same conclusion if I were in her shoes.

"Vivian, narcissism is an illness. You should really get that treated as soon as possible," I replied as I stuffed the medical report into my bag and moved to walk past her.

However, as I brushed by, she suddenly seized my wrist. Her long nails dug deep into my flesh.

The sharp jolt of pain caught me off guard, and for a split second, my face betrayed me.

"Let go," I said through clenched teeth.

In the seven years I'd known Vivian, I had never once looked at her with anything but gentleness. Even at my angriest, all I ever let show was hurt.

Vivian took in my deathly pale face and slowly loosened her grip. A flicker of concern and suspicion passed through her eyes.

"What are you doing here? Are you sick? I'll be back in a few days—you don't need to keep tabs on me this closely. And stop pretending to be ill. You're terrible at playing the victim."

So, that was it. In her eyes, every encounter between us was something I orchestrated. She saw every instance of my vulnerability as an attempt to feign helplessness. Even here at the hospital, she thought I was putting on an act, and a painfully unconvincing one at that.

It turned out that when disappointment cut that deep, the will to fight back would simply vanish.

I looked at her and said nonchalantly, "Yeah, okay, sure. Believe whatever you want. Just sign the divorce papers soon so I can leave you lovebirds to it."

Vivian finally lost control of her temper and snapped at me, "Allen, if you don't know what's good for you, you're going to blow the last chance I'm giving you."

I shot her a cold look. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Then, I walked on without pausing. The pain pulsing from my wrist kept jolting my nerves with every step, keeping me ruthlessly clear-headed in the presence of the woman I'd loved for the past seven years.

Vivian looked ready to come after me, but Earl caught her by the hand.

"Vivian, I just got a prescription for insomnia from someone here at the hospital," Earl said, squeezing her palm affectionately. "You haven't been sleeping well the past few days, right? This gives us a perfect chance to try it out."

The hospital bustled with people coming and going. However, Vivian just stood there frozen, staring down at the all-too-familiar prescription for a long, long time.

Over the years, while helping Vivian grow her business, I'd quietly built up a network of my own. Many of those acquaintances still kept in touch with me. Since drawing was no longer an option, I began shifting my focus toward business development.

After handing in my resignation, I set off on a research trip to the state of Zenlora.

Throughout that time, Vivian called me over and over again.

I found myself wondering—this was a woman who never even had time to text me back, so where exactly was she finding all these spare hours to make such pointless phone calls?