After missing my birthday for the seventh time, Robert Whitney said he wanted to make it up to me.

I waited at the mountaintop for more than three hours.

Even when the rain came down in sheets, he never showed.

His little secretary, on the other hand, posted a photo of the two of them kissing in a hotel room.

“Thank you, Mr. Whitney, for the limited-edition necklace.”

“Someone who loves you never makes you wait. The things I want, I always get right away~”

A romantic round bed, the kind meant for lovers.

The two of them, fingers laced tight, bare from the waist up.

The wedding ring on Robert's hand had vanished.

In its place, a dense scatter of kiss marks.

And the words Philippa Pruitt had written across his chest: “I love you.”

Swallowing the disgust rising in my throat, I blocked her. Deleted her.

And Malcolm Whitney along with her, wiped clean out of my world.

——

Less than five minutes after I blocked them, Robert called.

“You deleted Philippa as a friend?”

“Add her back. Now.”

“She's just a young girl, new to the workplace, doesn't know any better. She thinks she did something wrong and she's been upset about it for ages.”

“Add her back, explain yourself, apologize, and I'll let the whole thing go.”

She stole what was mine, and I was the one expected to apologize.

The corner of my mouth curled. I bit out two cold words.

“Let's divorce.”

Robert was silent for a moment.

“Are you actually angry at me over the Philippa thing?”

“How many times have I told you? Philippa and I grew up together. She's like a brother to me.”

“She's working at my company now. What's wrong with me looking out for her a little?”

“And the rain was coming down hard today, and her health isn't good. I couldn't just leave a young girl stranded out there, could I?”

The more he explained, the guiltier he sounded.

Robert seemed to have completely forgotten.

It was because my own health was poor that I gave up my future and handed the company over to him to run.

At that thought, I cut him off, impatient “I'm still up on the mountain.”

I'd waited three hours for him. Stood in the rain for one.

There was no shelter at the top, and I didn't dare risk the way down alone.

Hearing I was in danger now, Robert sounded a little anxious.

“Wait for me. I'm coming to get you.”

I waited another hour.

The rain stopped, and still Robert never came.

The mountain path was a mess of mud after the downpour.

A few steps in, I was spattered head to toe.

I sneezed several times in a row, and all at once I felt my heart sink into the mud too.

Miserable and sick to my stomach.

Once I got home, I took a hot shower.

Philippa video-called me from a new number.

“Ethel Summers, sweetie, are you mad just because Robert gave me this necklace?”

“I'll have him buy you another one right away, so you'll stop fussing over these little things, okay?”

That cloying, baby-soft tone, dripping with malice.

The necklace was a limited edition. One single piece, the first of its kind in the world.

She knew perfectly well it was the birthday gift I'd been waiting for.

And still she'd snatched it right out of my hands without a shred of shame.

My head pounded. I didn't want to deal with her.

I swallowed a few cold tablets and sank into a heavy sleep.

I hadn't been asleep long when Robert yanked the blanket off me.

“Why didn't you wait so we could come back together? Do you have any idea how long I looked for you?”

“I'm hungry. Get up and make me something to eat.”

“And boil an extra bowl of ginger soup. Philippa got caught in the rain. I'll take it over to her in a bit.”

Jolted awake, my head throbbed worse than before.

My tone came out even more impatient. “Didn't Philippa feed you enough?”

Robert shot to his feet, glaring down at me, his face full of fury.

“Ethel! Are you never going to let this go? Haven't I already explained it all to you? Running into Philippa was just a coincidence. You really have to make a scene over something this small? And here I went to all this trouble to plan a surprise for you.”

With that, Robert flung a small box at me.

The corner caught me right at the edge of my eye. The pain was sharp enough that tears spilled before I could stop them.

He looked startled, and there was something flustered in the way he leaned in to check the cut.

The instant he got close, a thick, cloying perfume washed over me.

That scent. It was the one Philippa always wore.

I shoved him away in disgust, my gaze dropping to the box on the floor.

The necklace had slid out of it.

Across the white diamonds lay a dried, crusted film.

I didn't have to think hard to picture what the two of them had been doing while wearing it.

My stomach turned.

I kicked the necklace back toward him.

"Robert, drop the fake concern."

"I don't want a secondhand necklace, and I don't want a secondhand man either."

"All right, don't say things you don't mean. Let me take you to the hospital."

Robert stared at the little beads of blood seeping from the corner of my eye, his face full of tenderness.

Ignoring how weak I was, he hauled me up off the bed by force.

Playing the part of the devoted husband, he insisted on driving me to the hospital.

I was too dazed to even grab a coat.

The car was freezing.

I reached for the wool blanket on the back seat.

One tug, and the blanket tore open in a wide hole, a worn pair of stockings tumbling out in front of me.

Robert noticed the look on my face and explained it away without a second thought.

"That's probably one of Philippa's pranks. She's always been like that, just like a kid."

"Come on, wipe that look off your face. It's only a blanket."

"I'm out there working myself to death to put food on your table, and you're giving me attitude over some ratty blanket? You don't have half the sense Philippa does."

That wool blanket was the last thing my grandmother left behind.

She'd known her time was running short.

She had embroidered it with her own hands as a wedding gift for Robert and me.

I tucked it gently into my bag, not wanting to waste another word.

Right then, the phone rang.

It was his friend Brock.

"Robert, my man, we said we'd celebrate your ten years of being together with Philippa. Why aren't you here yet?"

He'd forgotten my birthday.

But he remembered the date he first held Philippa's hand.

Robert really was something.

On the other end, Philippa let out a scornful little laugh.

"What else would it be? It's that shrew of his at home."

"Marrying a woman like that? Talk about rotten luck."

Robert shot me an awkward glance, telling Philippa to watch her mouth.

At the same time he yanked the wheel hard, rerouting us toward the location they'd sent.

I was instantly on guard and tried to stop him.

"I don't want to go. I want to go home!"

Every gathering tied to Philippa ended badly for me.

The first time, Philippa and a few of her friends took turns pushing drinks on me.

I nearly got dragged off by some leering men in that bar.

The second time, Philippa knew full well I was allergic, yet she deliberately slipped peanut butter into my food.

Then she snapped an ugly photo of my face swollen like a balloon and posted it to the work group chat.

I'd been burned that many times.

This time, I refused to be the toy they teased and laughed at.

Robert had long since forgotten any of it.

He still thought I was throwing a tantrum.

"Ethel, can you not be so selfish? Are you really asking me to give up all my friends for you?"

"Then go alone. I'm going home."

My head was fogged over. All I wanted was to rest.

And I had no strength left to argue with Robert.

But then his stubbornness flared up all at once.

"No way. You snub my friends, you snub me. You're going tonight, no arguments."

When he saw how grim my face had gone, he tacked on another line.

"Be good. We'll just drop in, say hello, and leave. Don't put me in a mood again."

By the time we reached the place, it was already past two in the morning.

The second I stepped through the door, a bucket of cold water hit me square in the face.

I stood there shivering, soaked to the bone.

Philippa laughed. "A little welcome ceremony. You like it?"

Seeing my expression, the others rushed over to smooth things over and steered us toward the seats.

Four chairs. I was the only one left standing.

Philippa's smile widened, delighted.

"Oh, shoot. Looks like there's no extra seat..."

"Why don't you just head home? You wouldn't understand what we're talking about anyway."

Caspar Dickerson chimed right in.

"That's right. With me here, what's there to worry about? I'll keep an eye on Robert for you."

Caspar was Robert's cousin. Years ago, when he was starting his business, he came to me to borrow ten grand.

Back then he swore I was the only sister-in-law he'd ever have, that he'd be at my beck and call forever.

But later, it was also him who asked Robert,

"How does Ethel even compare to Philippa? How'd you end up marrying her?"

And then there was Brock.

Every time he needed a favor from me, he was all smiles.

Behind my back, he and Philippa would sneer at me as the nouveau-riche girl, and he covered for Robert's dirty little secrets more times than I could count.

Birds of a feather, every last one of them. Not a single decent soul among them.

The thought made me let out a soft sigh.

"No need to trouble yourselves. We're getting divorced. Three seats are plenty."

A marriage is between two people. There's no third chair.

Robert stared at me, blank with shock.

In all our years married, this was the first time I'd ever made him lose face in front of his friends.

Before, no matter how late into the night he drank, one phone call and I'd go pick him up and bring him home, never a word of complaint.

But now, I wasn't willing to keep shrinking myself for his sake.

The others heard it and scrambled over to talk me down.

Philippa, though, couldn't have cared less.

"Divorce again? What number is this now?"

"Robert, sweetie, your little wildcat at home really does have one nasty temper."

Robert couldn't stomach the humiliation. His face darkened as he rounded on me.

"Ethel, have I been too good to you? Spoiled you rotten?"

"Did you forget the days you cried and begged me not to divorce you?"

I picked up my phone and walked out without a single word.

I would never cry and beg him again.

When Philippa first came back from overseas, I'd clashed with Robert again and again over the suffocating closeness between the two of them.

And every single time, Robert would say,

"If you can't take it, then divorce me!"

Back then, I was still drowning in a love that was never real.

Over and over I apologized to Robert, admitted fault, begged for forgiveness.

I'd knelt at our own front door.

I'd sobbed alone in the dead silence of the night.

But Robert took my patience, took my love, and twisted it into an excuse to trample me.

This time, I would not bow my head again.

I went home, packed my bags, and moved into the little apartment I'd bought before the marriage.

I'd paid for it with the private savings I'd earned myself.

Back when Robert found out I'd bought it, we'd had a screaming fight over it.

"Only an idiot buys a condo. It's tiny, it's in the middle of nowhere, it's embarrassing. You'd be better off buying a car with that money. At least then I'd look good driving it around."

Later, my parents bought me a fully loaded luxury car to add to my dowry, and only then was Robert satisfied.

I was so glad I hadn't fallen for Robert's nonsense back then.

This little apartment was my safe harbor.