Sonya rushed into the ward while I stared blankly at the ceiling.

She saw my injuries and her eyes reddened instantly. She threw her arms around me and cried harder than I had.

"Josie! How did you end up like this! Where is that bastard Roger!"

Her voice echoed through the empty ward with angry trembling.

I forced a smile uglier than crying and patted her back lightly. "I'm fine. I won't die."

Sonya wiped her tears and gritted her teeth as she handled the paperwork, paid the bills, and arranged a caregiver.

She bustled around until she settled everything properly. Then she sat by my bed and started the interrogation. "Tell me. What exactly happened? Was it that scheming Sylvie again?"

I recounted the car accident and Roger's behavior in the emergency room without leaving anything out.

Sonya jumped up from her chair when she finished listening. She pointed toward the door and unleashed a torrent of curses. "Roger is blind! No, his brain must have been fried! For an ungrateful bitch, he ignored whether his own wife lived or died! I want to shred his law license!"

I listened quietly to her rant. My heart felt no major ripples.

Nothing was more grieving than a dead heart. That was probably this feeling.

Sonya tired herself out cursing and sat back down beside me. She held my hand with eyes full of heartache. "Josie, what do you even see in him? Why do you keep putting up with this kind of man? Divorce! You have to divorce!"

What did I see in him?

I had asked myself that countless times.

Five years ago, someone falsely accused my father of business fraud. The company went bankrupt and everyone avoided us.

Roger, who had just started making his name, took on the case no one else dared touch.

He worked without sleep for three months and pieced together evidence from the thinnest threads to clear my father's name.

He said it was his duty as a lawyer.

From that moment, this man took root in my heart.

I thought he embodied justice and became my savior.

Only after we married did I learn that another person already lived in his heart.

That girl named Sylvie was his childhood neighbor and the dream in his thoughts.

I was merely a suitable wife he picked casually to appease family pressure.

I told Sonya this past story. My voice stayed calm without the slightest fluctuation.

Sonya remained silent for a long time before she let out a long sigh. "So you feel you owe him and you've been repaying that debt with these years of marriage?"

I nodded.

"And now?" Sonya pressed. "Do you think the debt is paid?"

Was it paid?

I remembered his indifferent eyes in the emergency room and those blank "I don't remember" words.

For him, I learned to cook his favorite dishes even when I burned my hands full of blisters.

For him, I gave up my own career and willingly became a full-time housewife who managed everything perfectly.

For him, I covered the house with sticky notes just so he might "remember" this home and remember me.

Yet all my efforts weighed lighter than a feather in his eyes.

I had nearly lost my life.

No matter how heavy that favor was, it should now be repaid.

I told Sonya, "It's paid."

Sonya's eyes lit up. "Then we find a lawyer right now and sue him for divorce! Isn't he the top attorney? We'll hire his strongest rival! Let him taste defeat for once!"

I shook my head.

Roger's connections and status in the industry were unmatched.

I had no chance of winning a lawsuit against him.

Besides, he enjoyed the care I gave him and the convenience and stability this marriage provided.

With his personality, he would not easily agree to divorce.

I lay in the hospital for three days.

In those three days, Roger sent no calls or messages.

He seemed to have completely forgotten that he had a wife named Josie Walton.

Sonya came to keep me company every day. She cared for me while handling the follow-up matters.

I used a newly purchased phone card and sent a message to Roger's assistant in a stranger's tone. "Ms. Josie Walton will travel out of town for a one-month retreat. Please do not disturb her with any matters during this time."

The assistant replied quickly. "Understood. Received."

I knew he would definitely pass the message to Roger.

Roger would only think I was considerate for tactfully disappearing when he needed to care for Sylvie.

On the morning of the fourth day, I pulled out the IV tube from my hand.

With Sonya's help, I completed the discharge procedures and left the hospital quietly.

I did not go home. I asked Sonya to make a trip for me.

I did not want to set eyes again on that house filled with my efforts and despair.

Sonya followed my request and placed the ring on the nightstand in the bedroom, next to the photo frame I once wiped clean every day.

In the picture, I smiled brightly while his expression remained distant.

When she returned, she told me, "I put away your photos from the bedroom and the living room. I cleared every spot where your face could be seen."

I nodded. "Thank you."

She hesitated as if wanting to say more. "Josie, are you really sure about this? Once you leave, you might never come back."

I looked out the window. The distant sky hung gray and heavy, much like my past five years.

But I knew the sun would break through eventually.

"I'm sure." My tone stayed firm. "The world is so big. There has to be a place without Roger and without Sylvie."

The moment I boarded the train, I glanced back at the city where I had lived for over twenty years.

It held my youth, my love, my pain.

Now I left all of it behind here.

The train started moving slowly and carried me toward an unknown future.

Josie Walton had died.

She died in that car accident and in Roger's indifferent gaze.

From now on, I was just myself.

A free person who lived for herself.

Roger returned to the place he called "home" only after a full week.

For those seven days, he never left Sylvie's side until the doctor confirmed her complete recovery. Then he personally drove her back to her house.

When he pushed open the villa door, no familiar aroma of dinner greeted him. Only cold silence filled the rooms.

He frowned. An inexplicable irritation rose in his chest.

Josie was not home?

He remembered the message his assistant had passed on about her going out of town for a month-long retreat.

She certainly picked the right time.

He changed his shoes, tossed his coat onto the sofa, and headed straight to the bedroom on the second floor.

As he pushed the door open, he almost asked out of habit, "Is this the one?" But he noticed the sticky note that once read "Bedroom" was gone.

Not just from the door. Every sticky note he knew so well had vanished from the entire room and the whole house.

The large wedding photo still hung on the wall, but the label marking the anniversary underneath had been torn off.

The house felt excessively clean. All of Josie's personal belongings—cosmetics, clothes, books—had disappeared without a trace.

It was as if this woman had never lived here at all.

The irritation in Roger's heart grew stronger.

He walked to the nightstand and immediately spotted the platinum ring lying quietly on top.

Next to the ring stood the photo frame that once held a picture of him and Josie.

Now the photo had been removed, leaving only an empty white backing.

He picked up the ring. Its cold touch spread from his fingertips.

He suddenly recalled how Josie treasured this ring and refused to take it off even for showers.

Yet now she had left it behind.

What did this mean?

A panic he had never felt before slowly enveloped Roger like an invisible net.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number he had never called on his own initiative.

"The number you have dialed is powered off."

He hung up irritably and called his assistant instead. "Find out Josie's itinerary. Where did she go for her retreat? When is she coming back?"

The assistant replied quickly, but the answer only deepened his unease. "Sir, there are no travel records for Miss Walton. No flights, trains, or long-distance buses show any ticket purchases in her name."

No travel records?

Then how had she gone out of town?

An absurd thought flashed through his mind.

She had left.

Not for a retreat, but truly left.

At that moment, his private phone rang.

The caller ID showed an unknown number from a remote city in the neighboring province.

He answered with a harsh tone. "Who is this?"

A calm, formal male voice came from the other end. "Is this Mr. Roger? The husband of Josie Walton?"

Roger's heart sank heavily. "Yes. What happened to her?"

The man paused for a few seconds as if choosing his words carefully. "Mr. Roger, this is the West River City Police Department. We recovered a female body downstream from the Azure River. Based on initial item comparison, we suspect it may be your wife, Josie Walton."

"...What?" Roger's mind buzzed and went completely blank.

The voice on the phone continued clearly and coldly. "The facial features of the body are severely damaged and cannot be identified visually. We need you to come as soon as possible to assist with DNA comparison and confirm the identity of the deceased."