Deborah jogged over to stop me.

"You have to cook the oatmeal before you can sleep," she said.

For the first time, I found her so bizarre and unfamiliar.

A compromise was impossible. I pushed her aside, locked the door, and went straight to sleep.

The room had good soundproofing. Whatever they wanted to do was none of my business.

The next day, when I got up to use the bathroom, the lingering yellow filth mixed with a foul smell in the toilet made me nauseous.

There was even a puddle of water mixed with hair on the floor.

I used to worry about Deborah slipping, so every time she finished showering, I would clean up.

I took a deep breath and told myself not to get angry. Whoever made the mess should clean it up themselves.

I loved Deborah and this home. No matter how busy I was, I would always take the time to keep it clean and tidy.

But that didn't mean I would do it now, because I no longer wanted her, and I no longer wanted this home.

I had given up ever since she repeatedly ignored my advice and insisted on bringing Terry home for the night.

This mess was created deliberately by Terry and Deborah to annoy me.

They knew I had OCD and a cleanliness obsession. Just a bit of mess would upset me.

And for the sake of my peace of mind, I always endured and cleaned up.

Before Terry returned from abroad, whenever I upset Deborah, she would mess things up to punish me.

I would clean up while coaxing her, and she enjoyed it immensely. At that time, it was a unique aspect of our relationship.

But now, I see it clearly. She enjoyed treating me like a housemaid, just like last night when she ordered me to take care of Terry.

She never saw me as her husband. She claimed I wasn't an outsider, yet she humiliated me in every action.

I couldn't stay in this house any longer.

I packed my things and went back to my pre-marital apartment to catch up on sleep.

Deborah called, furious, "Thomas! Where are you?"

"I'm sleeping. If you need something, ask Terry, and don't bother me," I replied.

Deborah immediately raised her voice, her piercing soprano hurting my eardrums through the phone.

"The house is such a mess. How can you sleep?"

"I'm not sleeping there, so why wouldn't I sleep well?" I replied.

After enduring over a hundred sleepless nights, why should I continue to torture myself?

"Can't you see the mess at home? I can't stand it anymore," she said.

She couldn't stand the mess she made herself and came to question why I wasn't cleaning it. What kind of twisted logic was this?

"Deborah, I owe you nothing, and I owe Terry nothing. I won't clean up someone else's mess," I retorted.

"What do you mean someone else's mess? Do you still want to live together or not?" she said.

Here it came again!

She always used the same tactic. After countless times, I had gone from initial fear and panic to now being indifferent.

"I don't want to. Let's get a divorce!" I said.

My indifferent attitude pushed Deborah into a full-blown rage.

"Thomas, you said it! Don't regret it!" she said.

Why would I regret it? I only regretted not ending this ridiculous marriage sooner.

The absurdity began with this play.

Deborah and I were supposed to be the main characters in this play.

I worked tirelessly on the script until the shoot began, only for Terry to use tricks to steal the lead role.

The second male lead wasn't bad, and I wanted to challenge a villainous role, so I agreed.

As a result, Deborah brought Terry home and made me teach him the lead role scene by scene.

Even the director called, saying time was tight and hoping I could help.

The exchange of the lead role seemed to reflect my real life.

Deborah was a crazy person. An hour later, a video of her and Terry passionately kissing on the street went viral online.

"Thomas, are you satisfied?" She asked.

"As long as you are satisfied," I replied.

My calm demeanor surprised her.

"Aren't you angry? Aren't you going to argue with me?" She asked.

Did she deliberately come to find me just to see me go crazy over love again?

Unfortunately for her, she was bound to be disappointed.

I was no longer the clown who would go mad and lose control because of their kiss.

Instead, at this moment, she resembled a clown.

Deborah couldn't accept my calmness.

"I get it. This is the calm before the storm. I'm warning you, don't cause any trouble!" she said.

I sneered, "You're overthinking it. Irrelevant people aren't worth my anger."

Facing my seriousness, Deborah became a bit flustered.

"Thomas, do you not love me anymore? Aren't you supposed to be jealous?" she said.

"Weren't you the one who said you didn't like me being jealous? Jealousy is harmful and makes me look vicious!" I snorted.

I was just stating the truth, but Deborah thought I was being sarcastic.

"Can't you be reasonable? Couples argue and make up. Why don't you understand my intentions?" she said.

"We're getting a divorce, so there's no need to argue," I replied.

I handed her the divorce agreement that I had prepared in advance.

"There's no point in saying more. Let's divorce."

She took it and glanced at it, tears streaming down her face.

"Thomas, are you serious?"

"This marriage no longer has a reason to exist!"

If I didn't know she had ulterior motives, I might have been softened by her tears again.

She tearfully tore up the divorce agreement.

"Thomas, you bastard!" she cursed.

"I kissed Terry because we were surrounded by fans. They wouldn't let us go unless we kissed. Do you have to make a big deal out of it?

"The new drama is launching. We were just putting on a show for the traffic."

"No need to explain to me. I don't care," I said.

I handed her another divorce agreement, and Deborah's emotions erupted.

"I don't agree! Don't even think about divorcing me!

"Now I'm very angry! Apologize and make it up to me right now!"

After being pampered by me for many years, she thought of herself as a princess.

I pointed to her belly.

"What wrong have I done? You're about to become a mother. Can you be a bit more mature?" I said.

Deborah's face changed drastically.

"What did you say?"

How confident was she to believe her perfect deception was flawless?

Or did she think I loved her so blindly that I couldn't see the truth?

Deborah was pregnant, but unfortunately, the child wasn't mine.