My husband never set foot in the kitchen. So when he started following me around, asking to learn how to cook, I thought he was finally coming back to real life.

I was happy about it for a long time.

Not until his skills became flawless—and he stopped coming home—did I realize the truth.

And that bowl of morning porridge pushed me into the abyss.

Morning porridge warms the heart more than any sweet talk.

Delia Cobb, my husband's assistant, posted it on social media with pictures: a bowl of porridge, and two hands intertwined.

On the back of the man's hand was a fresh burn scar—from Leo learning to cook.

And that porridge was my original recipe.

Everything—absolutely everything—proved those hands were my husband's.

All that time he was learning, he never let me taste a single dish. Said he was afraid they wouldn't be good enough.

Turns out he wanted Delia to be the first.

I made the same porridge in silence. Then I headed straight for the company.

——

At Farley Tower, the security guard snapped to attention when he saw me.

Inside, every employee I passed regarded me with solemn respect.

I hadn't been to the company in a year. They still remembered me.

But Leo seemed to have almost forgotten—he was simmering porridge for another woman now.

"This is the chairman's private elevator. Without his permission, no one is allowed to use it."

A face I didn't recognize blocked my path.

"Vice Chairman Hughes, this one's new—doesn't know any better." A senior staff member hurried forward. "Vice Chairman, my team hit a snag recently. Could you give us some guidance?"

I frowned. "Trying to get me away. Something wrong with Leo's office?"

He lowered his head and said nothing.

The unfamiliar face tried to stop me again, but several senior employees pulled him aside.

After I stepped into the elevator, I saw him reach for his phone—and get stopped again.

So there really was something wrong.

The chairman's elevator went straight to the top floor.

This entire floor was Leo's domain. You could work here. You could live here.

He was bent over his desk when I walked in. Didn't even look up at the footsteps.

"You need to rest. Why won't you listen? Go lie down."

My heart warmed. Could I have misunderstood him?

This past year, the reason I stayed away was to recuperate. Years of working day and night had taken a toll on my body—I still couldn't get pregnant.

"Nothing to do at home," I said. "So I came to see you."

Leo's head snapped up.

His gaze dodged. My heart tightened. Those words just now—they weren't meant for me.

"Why are you here?" Awkward small talk, because he had nothing real to say.

I walked to his side and looked at the photo frame on his desk.

It used to hold a picture of us. He said whenever he was tired, one look at it would bring him back to life.

Now the woman in that frame was Delia Cobb.

"Lost a round of Truth or Dare a few days ago. The little assistant insisted on taking a photo with me, made me keep it here for a week."

I didn't take the bait. I just set down the porridge. "You haven't been home in days. I was afraid you weren't eating well."

On the way here, I'd thought about everything. The initial rage slowly cooled as I got closer.

There was still fire in my chest. But losing my temper wouldn't solve anything.

I asked myself: did I still want to hold on to this marriage?

If yes—then rage was meaningless.

If no—rage didn't matter either.

Win or lose, I couldn't fall apart. Even if I didn't want this marriage anymore, I refused to hand it to Delia Cobb.

I didn't go hysterical. I looked at Leo calmly and opened the porridge.

"Honey, you're really good to me."

"Drink it while it's hot."

Leo didn't speak again. He silently drank the porridge.

The atmosphere didn't have that sweet newlywed feeling. We both knew something sat between us.

A rift.

"Darling, I want a fruit platter."

A sickly-sweet voice drifted from the inner suite.

Leo froze, the porridge trapped in his mouth—couldn't swallow, couldn't spit it out. He stared at the bowl as if searching for an answer there.

I sat perfectly still.

He finally looked up. His gaze was frank. "I worked too late last night, so I let Delia sleep here. She must be talking in her sleep."

He said it loudly. Deliberately. A warning to the woman inside.

I didn't speak. I sat there, calm on the surface, but the stabbing pain of my nails digging into my palms reminded me that I wasn't nearly as composed as I looked.

Moments later, Delia emerged. The instant she saw me, her expression shifted—joy to confusion—her hand twisting the corner of her clothes as she fled back into the suite in a panic.

Leo had just warned her. This little performance was designed to provoke me.

She came out again a moment later, her composure restored.

"Chairman Farley. Vice Chairman Hughes." Her greeting was stiff, robotic.

I stayed silent. Leo waved his hand. "Get to work."

She left. The atmosphere grew heavier.

Leo took another bite of porridge. "This tastes even better than before. It's been so long since I've had porridge you made."

"Is it that I won't make it, or that you don't come home?"

He scratched his head. "The company's been too busy lately."

I dug my fingers into my thighs and sat up straight.

"Are you firing her, or am I doing it personally?"

"Hazel, you've misunderstood. There's nothing between me and Delia."

I stood and walked toward the suite.

Leo jumped up to stop me, his hand stretching out—then freezing midair. He pulled it back.

Inside, everything had changed. A style I'd never liked.

I opened the closet. Women's clothes that weren't mine.

In the makeup room, expensive cosmetics. Brands I didn't use.

Leo followed me in and wrapped his arms around me from behind. "Hazel, Delia reminds me so much of you when you were young."

"Her looks. The way she handles things. She's so similar."

"Back then, you stayed by my side and suffered so much. I can never make that up to the younger you—but Delia lets me try."

"Being good to her is my way of compensating for the girl you used to be."

"It helps me make peace with my regrets. I don't have feelings for her. Believe me."

I could hear my heart shattering.

When we were young, Leo and I built everything together. Our first studio was tiny—we worked there during the day and slept there at night.

Back then, we swore that someday we'd open a big company. We'd make a private space on the top floor that belonged only to us.

A place no one else could enter.

Now another woman had moved in.

I broke free of his arms, turned, and slapped him across the face. "So I'm telling you to fire her."

"Hazel, I told you—she's too much like you. She works so hard. Would you really want the younger you to be hurt?"

I stared at this man who once said one life, one world, one partner. He stood there calm and unhurried, speaking as if this all made perfect sense.

"When I was young, did I live in a room like this?"

"Did someone cook morning porridge for me?"

I couldn't hold back anymore. I stormed into the room, ripping at the sheets and duvet, yanking clothes from the closet and hurling them to the floor.

Cosmetics shattered everywhere.

"I'll say it one more time: fire her."

Leo's brow furrowed. "Honey, I love who you are now, but I can't let go of who you used to be."

"Can't you just give me this?"

"Let me have both—is that so wrong?"

"Love isn't a cage. It's letting someone have what they want."

I crouched on the floor, hands covering my face, tears streaming through my fingers.

Leo walked over. "Honey, is it wrong to love two people?"

"Besides, you're the one I've always loved. Delia is just the younger you."

I got up and headed downstairs, wanting to leave just like that.

But the fire in my chest had nowhere to go. Suffocating.

"Where is Delia Cobb?" I grabbed a senior staff member by the arm.

"Ah..."

A scream rang out from the media room.

Delia had hidden in here to lie low. The moment I walked in, she let out a shriek.

She fell to the floor, blood running down her forehead.

A shattered coffee cup lay beside her.

This woman was ruthless enough to hurt herself just to steal my place.

I swept a cold glance over her, then scanned the room for something useful.

If Leo was going to think I hit his new sweetheart anyway, I might as well actually hit her.

I grabbed a glass bottle of soda from the fridge and strode toward her.

"What are you doing?"

Leo appeared. He rushed toward me. "Are you crazy?"

He shoved me hard. I stumbled and fell.

The bottle shattered in my hand. My palm turned bright red.

Leo barely glanced at me before running to Delia. He scooped her up and rushed out.

As he passed me, he left one cold sentence behind: "When I get back, I'll settle this with you."

The stabbing pain in my palm was nothing compared to the pain in my chest.

On the way here, I'd told myself to stay calm. Handle it rationally.

But I couldn't.

I became the shrew I hated most—fighting back with hysteria—and in the end, I was completely defeated.

When I walked out of the media room, employees watched from a distance. I was the biggest joke.

Those looks might not have meant anything, but my face burned anyway.

My image had just collapsed. I'd be their gossip for weeks.

I went to the hospital alone. The wound on my hand could be treated. But the wound in my heart?

"Doctor, how is she?"

A familiar voice—Leo, talking to the doctor.

He'd never used that concerned tone on me. Even around the corner, I could picture the anxiety on his face.

"Don't worry. The baby is fine."

"That's great. Really great."

"Delia, did you hear that? The doctor said our baby is fine."

"You scared me to death. I don't want to keep sneaking around like this anymore. That hag from your family just tried to kill me."

"When are you going to give me a real status?"

Leo gently stroked Delia's face and kissed her forehead.

That gentle, careful movement—like he was afraid she might melt.

His voice was soft as a spring breeze. "Since she found out today, I'll lay it all out for her in the next few days. Don't worry—after this, I won't let you suffer anymore."

He and Delia turned around.

Our eyes met.

I stared at them in silence. I wanted to act strong. Act like I didn't care.

But my tears wouldn't stop.

My hand drifted to my belly. It had never grown round. I'd lost completely.

This battle—I thought I would win.

But the moment it began, I had already lost.

Fighting over a man—how could there be any winning?

And I fought anyway. And I still didn't win.

What a joke.

I turned around. Stopped being the third wheel.

Leo stared at my back. The moment I disappeared around the corner, he opened his mouth.

But he didn't say a single word to make me stay.