The police told me that my husband, Jean Roberson, was caught in a prostitution place.

I was stunned.

When I arrived at the police station and saw the face of the woman crying hysterically in his arms, I suddenly felt it was all pointless.

I walked up to my husband.

Jean instinctively shielded the woman, trying to explain. But I slapped him across the face.

"Jean, you're so disgusting."

——

The sound of the slap was crisp.

It echoed in the police station and even the police officer who was about to continue explaining the situation to me froze. 

I watched Jean, still covering his face and not yet reacting and raised my hand to slap him again.

But the woman in his arms, Gwen, suddenly rushed forward to shield him and the slap landed on the her face.

She cried even harder. 

"How dare you hit someone!"

She choked back sobs. 

"How dare you hit Jean!" she shouted, her red eyes fixed on me. "You didn’t even ask what really happened, you just hit him without thinking!"

Looking at her, I only felt ridiculous. So ridiculous that I didn't even want to say a single word. 

Just as I was about to slap her again, Jean finally reacted and grabbed my wrist.

"Enough, Juliet!" Jean's eyes turned cold and his tone became firm, "This isn't your playground."

"Can you stop making a scene regardless of the situation?!"

Jean forcefully pushed me away.

I was unprepared and stumbled, my lower back hitting the corner of a table, causing a dull pain that made me frown. 

A flicker of guilt flashed in Jean's eyes and he was about to help me, but Gwen stepped forward first.

She cried and explained to me, "Juliet, there's nothing between me and Jean. He just felt sorry for me and wanted to help me, but we were framed and accused of prostitution.”

“You've been with him for so many years. Don't you know what kind of person he is?"

She cried louder and more miserably, as if she had suffered a great injustice and said to me, "If I were you, I would never let my husband lose face in public.” 

"Even if there's something wrong, can't you talk about it when you get home? Why do you have to embarrass him in front of everyone? Don't you know that a man cares most about his pride?"

Gwen’s crying moved Jean and the heartache and hesitation in his eyes instantly turned into coldness.

He supported her, his face full of reproach as he looked at me. "There's nothing between me and Gwen."

"I've explained it to you many times," Jean defended Gwen, "You're so narrow-minded, you see everything as dirty!"

Before I came here, I thought that something had really happened to Jean. 

I also considered what I would do if Jean was set up by someone and whether he was being framed by a competitor to ruin the company.

But I never thought of this.

It was because of that woman, Gwen Ellison.

Again, it was Gwen.

She was the nightclub girl Jean suddenly met half a year ago.

Jean always mentioned if Gwen was someone that he believed he should help, just because she was a poor widow.

Countless times he was trying to save her life, leading to countless fierce arguments between us.

No matter what, he always instinctively defended that woman, thinking that I was being aggressive and that it was my fault.

Later, I finally couldn't bear it anymore and brought up divorce.

Only then did Jean finally calm down.

He said, "I promise, there will never be Gwen between us."

He promised, "Between you and Gwen, I will always choose you."

Jean cried and said he loved me, begging me to give him a chance.

I softened, thinking we had gone through many things in this relationship, that Gwen had truly been kicked out of our lives.

But I didn't expect that in just a month, that woman would return so forcefully, reappearing in front of me in this way.

Looking at Jean's complete bias towards Gwen, a sense of exhaustion instantly overwhelmed me, dragging me down and making even the air feel suffocating.

"Forget it." 

My voice was very soft, so soft that Jean was stunned and he asked again. "What did you say?"

"Juliet," Jean asked me, "What did you just say?"

"I said forget it," I tried my best to stay calm. 

I didn't want to let this kind of thing affect my mood anymore, so I told Jean, “I’ll sign the release letter now. Go ahead and play the saint, keep helping that poor widow you adore so much.”

"But," I ignored the prostitute woman who was secretly rejoicing beside me and looked at Jean's stunned face, smiling, "Let's just end it."

"Jean, let's get a divorce."

Even after I left the police station, the atmosphere there still remained heavy.

Jean refused to agree to the divorce and forcefully got into my car, even insisting on squeezing the prostitute woman into the back seat. 

Gwen remained silent, while Jean sat in the passenger seat explaining, "There's really nothing between me and Gwen."

"Today I had a gathering with my friends," Jean suppressed his temper and said to me, "After dinner, a few of us decided to go singing and I didn't expect to run into Gwen."

"You know Gwen's life is not easy, right?”

“She has elderly parents and young children to support and she's the only one supporting them. I saw that man dragging her into the car and I followed her to the hotel. If it weren't for me…"

Jean's voice was interrupted. It was from the back seat.

Gwen's sobbing voice came through, "Juliet."

"I never thought of competing with you for anything," Gwen cried until she could not breath, still saying, "It wasn't easy for me to get to where I am today. My ex-husband abused me and the children, that's why I divorced him."

"If only I didn't have that burden. If only I were innocent," Gwen suddenly stopped crying and looked at Jean affectionately, "I would definitely fight for him."

"Just because he's Jean!"

"Just because he's a good person!"

"Just because he—"

I slammed on the brakes.

The Porsche screeched to a halt on the road as I turned to look at Gwen's choked face and Jean's moved expression, then smiled. 

"Since that's the case," I pressed the unlock button and rolled down the car window, "we've arrived at the hotel."

"Why don't I just grant you your wish?"

"You have the money for a room, right?" I said sarcastically, meeting Jean's shocked face. "This time you'll be doing it freely, with the permission of me, the original wife."

"Go ahead. No one will call the police and have you taken to the police station."

"As for whether you want to have another child," I glanced at Gwen's stomach, "that's your business."

Inside the car.

The cheap perfume was so strong it felt like it choked the air around me. I tried to control my tone, but I still ended up hurting Gwen’s pride.

As Gwen got out of the car, she shouted at me, "Juliet, you're going too far!"

As soon as Gwen got out of the car, Jean started yelling at me.

"I never thought you could be so heartless!" Jean grabbed my wrist. "Gwen has no relatives or friends in this city, where do you expect her to go alone so late at night?"

"How can you hurt an innocent person like this?" Jean yelled angrily, "Juliet, get out and apologize to her right now!"

My wrist was hurting from being grabbed so hard.

I looked at this man who used to have eyes only for me and my heart grew colder and colder. 

I slapped Jean across the face.

"You want me to apologize?"

I looked at Jean's stunned face.

"In your dreams!"

I unbuckled Jean's seatbelt, pointed to the car door and said, "Get out!"

I watched Jean look at me with an unreadable expression and he left with an angry glare, "You will regret this!"

Then, Jean slammed the door and left.

Through the car window, I could still see Jean catching up with Gwen, grabbing her hand forcefully. 

I watched Gwen struggle a few times and finally she collapsed into Jean's arms, crying uncontrollably. 

It was so heart-breaking to see that scene, until tears could not help flowing.

The pain made my hands tremble so much that I could barely hold the steering wheel.  

I was shaking so badly that when I drove past the two people embracing each other, 

I clearly saw that prostitute woman giving me a defiant look, silently declaring to me, “This battle, I won.”

Jean and I were in a cold war. All of Jean's friends came to mediate, trying to persuade me.

"Juliet, Jean just feels sorry for that girl; it's not love at all. Don't overthink it."

Our mutual friends all said, "You two have come a long way together. Last time Jean was drunk, he was still calling your name.”

“Jean said that seeing Gwen always reminds him of you from the past; he just wants to make up for the hardships you went through back then."

I listened to my friends talking about our past.

I remembered how we started from nothing.

I remembered how we fought with stray dogs for food as children.

I remembered that day when our parents went on a trip and both died in that accident, leaving us alone.  

Our older relatives took all our property, turning us from orphans into homeless children.

It was Jean who hugged me tightly and said, "Juliet, I will definitely give you a home."

Back then, "home" was a distant concept.

Between the many lights, there wasn't one that belonged to us. 

Every brick and tile in the city was so expensive, but Jean let me live in the most luxurious apartment in the city, filling the house with memories of the two of us. 

Even the corners and edges were padded with soft protective strips because he was afraid I would bump into them.

Jean always said, "Juliet, in my heart, you will always be a child."

"I want you, Juliet Mason, to be the happiest princess in the world."

"My little princess."

That was why my friends said to me, "Which man doesn't mess around? Jean is already considered good; he doesn't gamble, doesn't frequent prostitutes and doesn't keep mistresses. He's completely devoted to you, Juliet. Stop making a fuss."

I understood.

These were Jean’s messengers, his way of giving me a step down. If I played along, we could pretend nothing happened, just like after every fight before and start over again.

But suddenly, I didn't want to anymore. 

I was just stubborn, so stubborn that when I saw Gwen's latest WhatsApp Story update, it was a picture of her and her child sitting on a Ferris wheel, smiling brightly, with the caption,

[The child said, "Even if Dad isn't my biological father, as long as there's love, we're a family."]

In the corner of the photo, there was a pair of hands with clearly defined knuckles.

I couldn't possibly not recognize them.

I had seen those hands for almost thirty years and that ring, which Jean and I personally designed and had custom-made, was our wedding ring.

My heart ached so much that it was almost numb, almost to the point where I thought I couldn't feel anything anymore, when Gwen sent me a video.