In Grayson's memory, whenever he said he was tired, I'd run to him without hesitation—massaging his shoulders, rubbing his legs. Maybe it was that same blind devotion, that "good wife" image, that made him think he could do whatever he pleased.

"Grayson, what I said at the wedding wasn't a joke. Let's set a time to get the papers." I meant divorce papers.

He'd dragged me to get the marriage license as soon as he learned I was pregnant. But these past few days, I've had time to think things through. I don't want to keep dragging out this love triangle. I'm done being entangled with either of them.

His hand shook as he lit a cigarette. "Brianna, what now? You're starting with me too? I'm already exhausted dealing with Sophia. Can't you just be a little more reasonable? Try to understand me for once? I didn't want things to happen that way either, but I couldn't just watch her die. You're always so understanding. You get it, don't you?"

He said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world—like it was my fault. Like he was the one abandoned at the altar, not me.

I stared at that handsome face. It was that very face that once blinded me, made me do pathetic things. But that was over now.

"Watch her die? Grayson, is your brain made of mush? Think about it—how many times has she 'tried' to kill herself? Has she ever really died?"

Grayson smoked furiously, saying nothing.

"If you really wanted what's best for her, you'd take her to a hospital. If they can't treat her here, send her abroad. As long as it's not terminal, there's always hope for treatment."

"But she's afraid of hospitals. The doctors said as long as we don't trigger her, she'll gradually get better. Brianna, let's just hang on a little longer. Things will get better."

I laughed bitterly. "And what if she never gets better? Are we just never getting married? Maybe you're willing to wait your whole life, but I'm not. I don't have that kind of time to waste on you two."

If Sophia ever truly wanted to die, really meant it, maybe I'd respect her for it. But she never did. She knew exactly how much medication to take, just enough to get her rushed to the ER, never enough to actually die.

Six months ago, she was in a car crash. When she woke up, she claimed to remember nothing—except Grayson. She told everyone she was his fiancée, and that I was the other woman, the one intruding on their love.

I argued with Grayson. And what did he say?

He said that as long as he believed me, that was enough. Sophia was ill, and we shouldn't upset her. Once she recovered, he'd go public with our relationship and explain everything.

And so she moved in with us. On our anniversary, she faked a suicide attempt. On Valentine's Day, she forbade Grayson from celebrating with me. He bought me a bracelet—she took it, saying he'd betrayed her by "cheating."

When others told her I was his real girlfriend, not her, she said I'd bribed them to lie. In the end, she climbed to the rooftop and shouted that Grayson was a heartless bastard, and she didn't want to live anymore.

Grayson had no choice but to give her the bracelet he bought me. He even took her to a hotel that night—to "comfort" her.

I spent that night alone, staring at the ceiling.

At first, Grayson would still explain things. He even felt a little guilty. The next day, after sending Sophia off, he secretly bought me a necklace.

He said, "Brianna, you're such a kind, understanding girl. You wouldn't get upset over something like this, right?"

One year. The doctors said her condition would improve in a year. After that, she'd leave, and we could finally have our life together.

I believed him. I believed in us.

I even promised him I'd treat Sophia like a younger sister.

That night, we held each other tightly. Just like that, for Grayson, I became a turtle hiding in my shell, swallowing my pride, biting down my frustration, and putting up with Sophia pushing my limits over and over again. I didn't even know how I managed to endure it.

But even with all that, her condition didn't improve. It got worse. Her demands became more outrageous by the day.

I broke down a few times. Every time I did, Grayson would turn on me, accusing me of being inconsiderate, saying I had no compassion, calling me cold-hearted.

Even people around him started blaming me. Said I should be more understanding. Said I was being petty, going up against a sick woman like that.

Eventually, I even started to doubt myself. Maybe I really was heartless. Maybe I was the problem. I almost let them brainwash me.

Until I accidentally found out the truth—she wasn't sick at all.

I told Grayson.

He didn't believe me. He said I was just jealous, that's why I thought Sophia was faking it.

I'd already made up my mind to leave him, but then the company physical turned up something unexpected—I was pregnant. Grayson was over the moon, talking about wedding plans before I even processed the news.

I hesitated. I told him that as long as Sophia was around, I'd never feel secure. I wasn't even sure I wanted to keep the baby.

Grayson didn't say a word. He disappeared for a night. When he came back, he dragged me to the City Hall and got the marriage certificate—without telling Sophia, of course. He said now I didn't have to worry about him leaving me.

Looking into his earnest eyes, I decided to give him one more chance. Maybe once the baby came, his heart would be with me. Maybe time would reveal who really cared about him. Maybe he'd finally see through Sophia.

Once our child was born, I thought Sophia would take the hint and leave. That she'd finally understand.

But I was too naive. I gave her too much credit. I saw Grayson in a light he didn't deserve. A man who couldn't even protect the woman he claimed to love—what was her child to him?

Grayson hadn't expected me to say what I did. His expression shifted.

"Brianna, how can you talk like that? Sophia is sick! She can't control herself. This time she nearly died, do you know that? She's been in a coma for three days. She just woke up. I only came back to grab some clothes before going back to the hospital. Stop this nonsense. When she's better, we'll go ahead with the wedding."

"Grayson, do you not understand plain language? I said I want a divorce. If you don't want a divorce, fine. But send Sophia to a proper hospital. Get her real treatment. If this keeps up, she's going to drag you down with her—and she'll take our marriage with her."

"Brianna, how could you curse Sophia like that? She's such a kind person. Just because she had an episode and ruined our wedding doesn't mean you get to wish her dead!"

"Oh, that offended you? Good. If you want to stay with me, then get used to it. From now on, every time I see her, I'll curse her. I'll call her what she is—a filthy little homewrecker with no shame."

I'd always been raised well. I didn't speak like this. And maybe because I'd always been so mild, Grayson thought he could walk all over me—twisting things around, punishing me in new ways.

Every time we fought—even when he was clearly in the wrong—I was the one who apologized. I never used words like "break up" or "divorce" lightly. But this time, they pushed me too far. I said everything I wanted to say.

Maybe I crossed a line. Maybe insulting Sophia hit a nerve. Or maybe it was because it was the first time I actually told him I wanted to leave.

Whatever it was, Grayson snapped.

He raised his hand and slapped me across the face.