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.

That luxury car had become Philippa's personal ride now.

After all the chaos, the sky had gone fully bright.

Sleep was out of the question, so I went and printed out the divorce agreement.

When I got home, I found Robert standing right outside my door.

I was a little stunned. This was the first time he'd ever come looking for me on his own.

"Last night, I said things I shouldn't have. But you really shouldn't have treated my friend that way. Just go apologize to Philippa, and we'll put the whole thing behind us."

When I'd been leaving yesterday, I'd overheard Philippa say something.

"Ethel turned out this way because you spoiled her. She needs to be taught a real lesson."

"And if you can't bring yourself to do it, I'll do it for you!"

She'd rattled off a whole list of ways to "train" me.

Financial control. The silent treatment. Mind games.

It took me a long while to realize.

Robert had already been using every one of those tactics on me.

He belittled my body, called me a useless housewife with nothing to offer.

He said my voice was grating, nowhere near as soft as Philippa's.

And whenever I pushed back, Robert would blow up at me.

"What is there to compare? Philippa actually shares my burdens at work. Can you?"

"She's a top graduate who studied abroad. What gives you the right to put yourself in the same league as her?"

But back then, if it hadn't been for Robert, I never would have become a housewife in the first place.

Since he didn't value anything I'd given up, then fine, let's divorce.

I shoved the divorce agreement into Robert's hands, opened the door, and went back into my room.

Robert followed close behind, wrapping his arms tightly around me from behind.

"Stop throwing a fit. I apologized, didn't I?"

His hands kept roaming over my body.

"I know I've neglected you lately. You're angry, I get it. I'll agree to have a baby with you. Isn't that enough?"

I broke free and shoved Robert away with everything I had.

"Don't touch me. You disgust me!"

Robert slammed into the wall.

His eyes darkened with anger.

But before he could even erupt, my vision went black, and I suddenly collapsed.

When I woke again, I was in a hospital.

My head still felt foggy, and I couldn't open my eyes.

But faint, breathy moans drifted to my ears.

"Robert, doing it like this is so thrilling."

"But what if Ethel suddenly wakes up and finds out about us?"

Robert's voice was low and muffled, like he was holding back.

"She won't."

"I had the doctor slip her some extra sedatives. She won't wake up that easily."

"We can take the chance and enjoy ourselves for a while."

From the bed on the other side of the curtain came the violent sounds of bodies colliding.

I could just make out two tangled silhouettes.

My stomach churned with revulsion.

I wanted to throw up, but my body lurched and tumbled off the bed before I could control it.

The noise interrupted the two of them.

Robert hastily fastened his buttons and turned to look at me.

"You're awake, Ethel?"

"Philippa was worried about you, so she brought a gift to come check on you."

The so-called gift was a half-eaten bowl of leftover seafood porridge.

A thick spoonful of peanut butter had been smeared on top.

Just as nauseating as the two people in front of me.

Robert didn't notice anything was off with me and kept talking.

"Ethel, a fight's a fight, but don't punish your own body to spite me, okay? A high fever, passing out like that. You really scared me this time."

"You don't know why I came down with a fever?"

Who left me out in the rain? Who made me run around outside all night?

Who said he'd take me to the hospital, then turned around and went drinking with his friends?

Robert looked away, a flicker of guilt on his face.

"Let's not get into all that. Come on, eat something. Philippa made this especially for you."