The day after I was discharged from the hospital, I handed in my resignation to the orchestra director.

I'd only joined the orchestra in the first place to be closer to Tom.

He was the associate director—brilliant, magnetic—and I had been drawn in by his talent.

I gave up my job teaching at a university just to stand beside him.

For a while, I followed him everywhere, from domestic performances to international competitions.

In the beginning, he never tired of being with me. Work or downtime, we were always together.

Colleagues would joke that we were a match made in heaven—two souls perfectly in sync.

But ever since he took in a student named Laura, his time stopped belonging to me.

Now that someone else had taken my place, there was no reason for me to keep holding on.

The director looked regretful and tried to convince me to stay.

But my tone was firm, and after a long sigh, he signed off on the resignation.

Then he asked me what I planned to do next.

I didn't hide anything. I told him I'd accepted a position teaching at a university abroad.

He nodded supportively, then hesitated before asking, "Does Tom know?"

I shook my head. "Whether he agrees or not doesn't matter anymore."

The director paused, then seemed to understand.

It was obvious to everyone—Tom's world revolved around Laura now.

Hardly anyone even knew we'd been married for five years.

Without a successful wedding ceremony, people just assumed we were dating.

And if a boyfriend strayed, breaking up was the logical next step.

The director sighed again, muttering that Tom didn't know what he had just lost.

After submitting the resignation, I went back to Tom's family home to pack.

The day we registered our marriage, Tom brought me to live in his family's old house.

I'd suggested we move out and live on our own, but he begged me to stay.

He loved the noise and bustle of living among family.

I had barely packed half my things when Gina Spader knocked on the door—more than once—urging me to cook dinner.

I gave her a clear answer. "I don't have time today. And I won't be cooking for you anymore."

Gina was Tom's sister. After getting married, she'd moved back in with her whole family.

Six of them in total, each one pickier than the next when it came to food.

Her husband liked sweet, her mother-in-law salty, her father-in-law spicy.

Her two kids only wanted meat, and she herself was vegetarian.

Just cooking for them was a half-day job.

And when the food was finally done, it was always met with some sort of criticism.

Time and again, I wanted to stop. But every time I saw that bright smile on Tom's face, I hesitated.

He'd always say, "We really can't live without you. You're family now. That's why they speak so bluntly."

But now, with the divorce looming, I felt a strange sense of relief. At the very least, I wouldn't have to cater to this impossible family anymore.

Yet Gina acted like she didn't understand a word I said. She knocked again and again.

"What the hell is going on with you?" she snapped. "Everyone's hungry. We're all waiting for you to make dinner!"

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I headed for the door, no longer interested in responding.

She blocked my path.

"Seriously, what's your problem?" she barked. "Just because Tom missed the wedding again? It's not even the first time! Why are you acting so dramatic? You two are already married. What difference does a ceremony even make?"

I pushed past her.

"I'm not making a scene. And I won't be, ever again. I get it now—my life, my feelings… they never mattered to your family. And I've stopped caring too. If you want someone to cook for you, ask Laura. I'm done."

I dragged my suitcase behind me and left without another word.

Behind me came Gina's mocking voice, "Married five years and still jealous of a little girl? You can't even get pregnant, yet you're always finding excuses to get out of a few chores! Our family really drew the short straw with a daughter-in-law like you! You better have some self-respect—if you walk out, don't come crawling back!"

My whole body trembled with anger. I was ready to turn around and snap back, but stopped myself.

What was the point? When it came to cutting words, I'd never be her match. And she could say all of this because Tom allowed it.

All I needed to do was leave—leave the house, leave him—and everything would fall back into place.

My in-laws stood in the hallway, faces like stone, eyes on my suitcase.

The housekeeper didn't move. Without their nod, I wasn't allowed to go.

I looked at them directly. "Do you want to inspect my luggage?"

I hadn't taken a single thing that belonged to the Spaders. What I brought with me barely amounted to anything.

My father-in-law frowned but stayed silent.

My mother-in-law gave me a gentle smile. "Liz, don't be ridiculous. I just want to stop you from doing anything rash. If there's a problem, talk it through with Tom. You young people are always escaping at the first sign of trouble—don't you see how threatening that looks to a man? Keep pushing him away like this, and who are you really hurting? Don't be foolish."

Her tone was calm, familiar, like the same old lecture she'd given me for the past five years.

I used to think she had a soft heart hidden beneath harsh words.

But now I saw it clearly.

They were a united front. And I—I was always the outsider.

"If you won't let me leave, I'll call the police," I said quietly, pulling out my phone.

The calm on my father-in-law's face broke instantly, replaced by a furious scowl.

"No one's stopping you! Get out if that's what you want! What a joke. You've done nothing for this family, and still think you can act like royalty! Tom would've been better off hiring a maid—cheaper and more useful than you!"

I stood there stunned.

So this was what they really thought of me. They'd never said it aloud because I had always been obedient. I listened. I cooked. I stayed.

Now that I refused to serve them, now that I wanted to leave the house—they couldn't hide it anymore.

Thankfully, my father-in-law raised his oh-so-noble hand and signaled the housekeeper to let me go.

As I walked out of the Spader family estate, it felt like stepping out of a prison. Out of hell.

Relief flooded every part of me. A rebirth.

Tears rolled down my face.

Five years of marriage. Five years of silence and submission, of playing servant to people who never saw me as one of their own.

And now, I was finally out.

There is no honor in suffering for a man, no glory in swallowing pain just to keep a marriage intact.

There were no taxis in the villa district. I dragged my suitcase for what felt like miles down the long road.

Eventually, a car came toward me. I raised my hand.

But it wasn't a cab.

It was a Rolls-Royce.

And I knew that car better than anyone.

The driver was my husband—Tom.

In the passenger seat sat Laura, wearing the exact same jacket as him.

They looked like a perfectly matched couple.

I had once asked him to wear matching outfits with me, and he'd brushed it off as childish.

I didn't push.

Now I understood. It wasn't that he hated couple's clothes.

He just hated wearing them with me.

Laura noticed me staring and hurriedly pulled off the jacket.

Beneath it, she wore a low-cut spaghetti strap dress. She shivered and let out a delicate sneeze.

"Don't misunderstand, Liz," she said, voice soft and trembling. "Tom only asked me to try it on for you."

I looked straight at Tom. "Is that true?"

He draped the jacket back over Laura's shoulders, his hand never once leaving her.

"Liz, can you stop being so unreasonable? It's just a jacket…"

I cut him off. "I'm done being unreasonable. Laura picked up your phone last night while you were in the shower. She didn't tell you to check your email? I sent you the divorce agreement."