"Sir, the system doesn't have any data on your marriage records with Ms. Lydia Payne."

I can feel my knees starting to go weak beneath me as I clutch the gastroscopy report.

Five years ago, Lydia was recruited by a top-tier law firm all the way in Starbrough. I made the ultimate decision to travel thousands of miles across the sea with her to start a new life there.

She had told me, "Once I've garnered enough wealth and a solid reputation, I'll help you apply for a PR card right away."

But it has been five years, and yet my Permanent Resident Card is still in the process of being approved.

On the other hand, Lydia's assistant, Philip Wilder, who has traveled to Starbrough with us, has already received his own PR card thanks to Lydia vouching for him.

When I received news back then, I wanted to break up with Lydia and fly back to Luxoria.

Lydia, who had always prided herself on being cool and calm at all times, panicked for the very first time. She gripped my hand as she said, "It's difficult for Philip to hold down a career in another country, so I view it as my responsibility to help him out.

"You're my husband, Nathaniel. You'll have your own PR card sooner or later. My job is a sensitive one, you see, so I need to avoid showing favoritism to you. Please be more understanding toward me."

Well, I've been understanding toward Lydia for five whole years.

My phone suddenly rings. When I answer the call, I can practically hear the smile dripping off Lydia's tone.

"Phillip has successfully passed his citizenship exam! We're celebrating the occasion tonight. Hurry up and come home so that you can get dinner started."

I feel my heart going stone-cold as I stare at the marriage certificate in my hand. Well, it's more like a piece of useless paper now.

It turns out that I'm not Lydia's legal husband at all.

I don't have an identity here, which means I can't receive any benefits. Heck, I can't even get started on the medical insurance that's needed for my follow-up treatments.

After ending the call, I book an appointment for a keyhole surgery. Then, I book a ticket on the quickest flight back to Luxoria.

This time, I won't go back to Lydia ever again.

I pushed open the door, and the room was already bustling with noise.

Lydia Payne's colleagues from the law firm filled the living room. Someone was opening a bottle of champagne, their laughter piercing.

Philip stood surrounded, his cheeks slightly flushed as he spoke with a smile.

Lydia was right beside him, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"Nathaniel, you're back. Perfect timing—we've been waiting for you. Ms. Payne said we must get to taste your cooking today," Philip called out loudly with an impeccable smile.

He was as sharp-eyed as ever.

Everyone turned to look at me.

Lydia cast a glance in my direction, her brow furrowing imperceptibly.

She walked over and whispered, "What took you so long? Hurry up and get cooking. Philip officially became a citizen of Astoria today, and everyone is happy for him."

I silently took off my jacket and walked into the open-plan kitchen.

The noise from the living room drifted in through the glass door. They talked about the latest merger cases, the new trends in immigration policy, and who would make partner next year.

Every word felt distant from me. For the past five years, my world had been precisely confined to this space of just a few hundred square feet.

As I was chopping vegetables, the living room erupted with the raucous sounds of a game of Truth or Dare.

"Ms. Payne, it's your turn! Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Lydia replied, her voice as steady as ever.

Someone intentionally spoke in a drawn-out manner. "Of everyone here, who would you call your best partner?"

The knife in my hand paused mid-chop.

"Philip, of course," Lydia answered without hesitation. "Over the years, he was the one who worked through the toughest cases and most difficult clients with me."

The living room erupted in cheers.

"I knew it! After working together for so many years, the chemistry between them is unmatched!"

"Put them side by side, and you've got a total power couple. They're evenly matched and stunning together."

"Such a shame Ms. Payne got married so young. Otherwise, she and Philip would be perfect together."

Someone asked in a lowered voice, "Honestly, I've never understood it. What did Ms. Payne see in her husband back then? I heard he's just a photographer. He hasn't even worked since coming here. Instead, he just stays at home all day. Compared to Philip, he's really…"

"Then how did he manage to win Ms. Payne over? Surely not just by cooking?"

The steam from the pot made my eyes sting.

Power couple, perfect match, best partner—each term hit me right in the chest and gave it a hard twist.

What was even more ridiculous was that they all assumed I was Lydia's husband, but our marriage certificate was fake.

The bowl slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor with a crash.

The kitchen door opened, and Lydia walked in with a deep frown.

"What's going on?"

I crouched down to pick up the pieces. A shard cut my fingertip, and blood welled up.

"Just an accident."

She glanced at my hand and said impatiently, "Can't you be more careful? You're embarrassing me in front of my colleagues by being so clumsy."

I looked up at her.

Lydia's eyes held no concern. Instead, there was only disdain.

"Clean this up and hurry up with the food. Everyone's starving."

The door closed behind her.

She didn't know about the tumor in my stomach that needed immediate attention, or that I'd just discovered at the hospital that our marriage was a complete sham.

My life had been nothing but a joke from the moment I fell in love with her.

The following day was Saturday.

Lydia left early in the morning, saying she had an urgent client to meet.

Philip, naturally, went with her.

The apartment was dead silent.

Suddenly, my phone lit up with a notification.

The profile picture, a candid shot of a woman from behind, looked familiar. But I recognized the woman's watch right away, as it was the one Lydia often wore.

I tapped open the profile.

The account didn't have many posts, but every single one made my blood run cold. The earliest was from five years ago, shortly after Lydia and I had "gotten married".

A photo showed two hands wearing matching wedding rings, resting on a marriage certificate. The caption was written in Astorian.

"Though it has to stay a secret for now, what the law recognizes is the only thing that lasts forever. Thanks, Ly."

A post from three months ago read, "She said she'd sponsor my PR card. All the documents have been submitted. Once it's approved, I'll officially be a Starbrougher."

Another post from two months ago read, "Someone secretly got me the new phone, saying I should have the best. I told her she didn't have to, but she said I deserved it."

There was a comment beneath. "Is that guy who's been hanging around your wife still bothering her?"

He replied, "Yep, he's like a stray dog that won't leave. Back in college, he used to wait outside her dorm building. Now he's followed her all the way abroad. He should take a look in the mirror—does he really think he's good enough for her?"

I stood in the middle of the living room with my phone in hand. The March sunlight streamed, yet I felt cold all over.

He wasn't wrong. I was the one who pursued Lydia.

On the first day of freshman year, I was taking photos around the campus with my camera when someone appeared in my frame. She stood in a white shirt, silhouetted against the sun.

The moment I pressed the shutter, I was done for.

After that, I followed Lydia all over campus.

She was the unattainable beauty of the law school, while I was the art major always trailing behind her with my camera.

Everyone said I wasn't good enough for her. However, with nothing but reckless courage and devotion, I somehow managed to become her boyfriend.

The year we graduated, my photography career was just starting to take off. I'd won two awards and received commissions from several magazines.

Then, she said she wanted to move to Starbrough. Without a second thought, I packed my bags and followed her there.

She held my hand, her eyes reddening. "Nathaniel, I promise I'll treat you right for the rest of my life. The marriage procedures overseas are complicated, so let's register our marriage here first."

After coming to Starbrough, I wanted to continue with photography. But with the language barrier, I hit dead ends everywhere.

Once, I took on a job but messed it up because I couldn't understand the client's instructions.

I came home and cried about it to Lydia.

"You didn't even pass Astorian Level Four, so why push yourself?" she asked with a frown. "Just quit it—I'll provide for you."

From then on, she deposited two thousand dollars into my account every month for living expenses. But that was barely enough to get by.

When I said I wanted to go back home to visit my family, she would frown and say, "I'm in the middle of an important case, so I can't leave just yet."

When I suggested going alone, she said, "What's the point of you going back by yourself? Wait until I'm less busy, and we'll go together."

I ended up waiting five years.

It turned out that all those excuses over the years—"I'm busy", "It's inconvenient", and "It's insensitive because of my profession"—were never the real reasons. The truth was, she never saw me as her husband at all.

My phone buzzed. It was a reminder from the hospital confirming surgery scheduled in three days.

What Lydia didn't know was that in the past five years, I'd never truly given up on myself.

I hadn't let Astorian slide. Even though I never passed Level Four, I could chat with locals for three hours without stumbling. Sometimes, I even secretly took on small photography gigs online.

Lydia never asked what I did during the day.

The day before my surgery, I got a call from an editor named Gary Floyd at a Luxorian-owned magazine I'd worked with before.

They were doing a feature on distinguished Luxorian professionals in Starbrough, and this issue's subject happened to be Lydia.

Gary knew I lived in Starbrough and had done some decent work in the past. So, he asked if I could take on a photography gig, offering generous pay.

I found myself saying yes.

I wanted to see what would happen when I showed up in front of Lydia's colleagues at her office, not as her husband, but as a photographer.

On the day of the shoot, I arrived at the law firm first.

The receptionist asked about my purpose. Just as I showed her my press credentials, a familiar voice cut through like a blade.

"Nathaniel? What are you doing here?"

Philip strode over in his leather shoes, looking at me as if I were something filthy.

"This is a workplace. No unauthorized personnel are allowed in here," he said, his tone laced with undisguised contempt.

"I'm here to work."

His smile faltered. He looked me up and down, then smirked again.

"What kind of work? Are you here to deliver food?" He let out a laugh. "Stop messing around, Nathaniel. This is a law firm, not your kitchen. Unauthorized personnel aren't permitted here."

I held up my press credentials. "I'm scheduled with the magazine to do a feature shoot with Ms. Lydia Payne at 3:00 pm today."

Philip raised an eyebrow. "What kind of magazine would be stupid enough to hire you? You didn't even pass Astorian Level Four."

After taking a deep breath, I took out my phone and called Lydia.

She answered and barked impatiently, "What is it? I'm busy!"

"I'm down at the law firm."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by the sound of footsteps.

When she came out and saw me, Lydia immediately frowned.

"What are you doing here? Go home right now. I have things to deal with tonight."

"I'm here for work," I replied, holding up the assignment letter.

She glanced at it without taking it, her expression as if she'd just heard a joke.

"What work could you possibly have?"

"Photography."

She looked at me with that familiar disgust in her eyes.

"You haven't touched a camera in five years. What could you even shoot? Don't embarrass yourself, and just go home."

Before she could finish, the elevator doors opened.

The magazine's chief editor, Max Welch, stepped out with his team.

"Ms. Payne, I've been looking forward to meeting you. Oh, Nathaniel, you're already here?" Max turned to me. "Shall we get started? Would you like to check the lighting first?"

Lydia's expression froze on her face, and Philip was stunned as well.

The interview went smoothly.

After it ended, we moved on to the photo shoot. I raised my camera and looked at Lydia through the viewfinder.

I'd spent all my youth loving and worshiping this woman. But now, in my lens, she was nothing more than a beautiful stranger.

I took three sets of photos. Max nodded approvingly.

As we wrapped up, I crouched down to change lenses. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Philip approaching.

"Nathaniel, sorry about the misunderstanding earlier," he said with a smile.

Then, his foot suddenly caught something, and he lurched straight into me.

The camera flew out of my hands and crashed against the metal trash can in the corner.

The lens shattered with a crack, and a split ran through the body.

My mind went blank.

That camera was passed down to me from my father, Christopher Hardy. The night he passed, I held that camera and cried until dawn.

Philip's voice was flustered as he poured out apologies, but a flash of satisfaction flickered in his eyes.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! Clumsy me. Nathaniel, please don't be mad."

A surge of rage shot through me. I got to my feet, eyes reddening, and threw a punch.

"Nathaniel, have you lost your mind?"

Lydia grabbed my wrist, yanking me back with force. Then, she stepped in front of Philip, glaring at me.

"Philip didn't mean to break your camera! Besides, are you seriously going to make a scene over a crappy camera? Just take a look at yourself! What, you think you're some big shot thug?"

I stared at her face, suddenly at a loss for words.

She was protecting him.

The blood in my veins gradually turned cold.

The magazine crew exchanged uneasy glances.

Max smoothed things over, saying they'd reschedule another time, and left with his team.

I crouched down to pick up the shattered camera.

Lydia walked over and handed me a few bills.

"Get it repaired. That's enough drama, so quit it."

I didn't take the money, and they fluttered to the floor.

I stood up and looked at her, then at Philip behind her. He was biting his lip, wearing a perfectly practiced look of grievance.

Without a word, I turned and walked away.

I went to the hospital. When I lay down on the operating table, the cold touch of the instruments sent a shiver through me.

After the keyhole surgery, I felt a dull pain in my abdomen. It was as if something had been taken out of me.