The moment the complaint left Brittany’s mouth, Bryce’s expression changed. He lunged forward and shoved Tiffany aside without hesitation.

Caught completely off guard, Tiffany stumbled backward. Her injured arm slammed into the edge of the table, sending a sharp, blinding pain through her body. Her vision darkened for a moment.

She was just trying to steady herself when a sudden force closed in on her.

A sharp crack of skin against skin startled the room.

A brutal slap landed hard across her face.

The blow rendered her speechless.

“Tiffany! You vicious woman!” Bryce roared, his face twisted with fury. “What did Brittany ever do to you?! How could you use that much force? Were you trying to cripple her?!”

Their son rushed straight to his aunt’s side. He didn’t spare her mom so much as a glance—no concern for her contorted, pain-stricken face, only accusation in his voice.

“Jeez, Mom, you’re terrifying! What did Aunt Brittany ever do to you? If you’re mad, take it out on us! How could you do something like this to her? Do you even have a heart?!”

Each word pierced her like a needle, one after another, sinking into what little was left of her heart.

She watched as her own husband carefully lifted her sister, who cried into his arms.

Once, long ago, when Tiffany had been sick with a fever, he had held her the same way. It’s just that the memory felt distant now—like something from another lifetime.

The three moved quickly—slipping on shoes, grabbing the car keys, rushing out the door—leaving her alone behind them.

Anyone who had bothered to look would have noticed the blood seeping through the bandage on her arm again.

But no one did. Bryce only threw one warning over his shoulder.

“If anything happens to Brittany’s foot, Tiffany, I swear I won’t let this go.”

With that, the door was slammed shut with enough force to make the walls tremble.

Tiffany stayed where the blow had made her fall, motionless.

For three long decades, she had dulled every bright edge of herself for him. She’d locked away youthful dresses and high heels in dusty closets and learned how to be a “good” full-time wife.

She’d stayed up late teaching herself massage, just so that when he came home, she could smooth the tension from his brow.

She memorized his preferences, kept the apartment running, raised their son, and worked tirelessly to maintain the image of a perfect family.

And yet, in their eyes, none of it ever mattered.

‘Look at you, Tiffany,’ she thought to herself. ‘This… is the life you chose. That’s the man you loved and tolerated for thirty years. That’s the son you raised with everything you had.’

She was lost in her regrets when her phone chimed softly. It was a message from Barron.

[The divorce agreement is ready. The apartment has been listed for sale.]

Reading his updates, Tiffany left the apartment, printed the papers, and signed her name. When she saw that the wound on her hand had split open again, she decided to return to the hospital to have it treated properly.

The doctor frowned at the reopened injury and repeated the warning—no using strength, absolutely no strain.

Tiffany nodded automatically, barely hearing a word.

Walking out of the consultation room, she just wanted to leave the hospital as quickly as possible.

But the universe seemed determined to humiliate her further when she was at her most miserable.

As she passed another hospital room, hushed voices drifted out—voices she recognized instantly. That stopped her in her tracks.

“Hey, Bryce, let go of me. Flynn went to get the CT scans. He’ll be back any minute. If someone sees us like this, it won’t look right.”

Then came Bryce’s low, soothing reply.

“Don’t move. The doctor’s treating it. If it hurts, hold on to me. Be good, Brittany. Just bear with it; it’ll be over soon.”

Tiffany stood frozen outside the door. Only a narrow crack separated them, yet it felt like an unbridgeable distance.

Inside, Brittany leaned against the hospital bed. Her left ankle was supported in the doctor’s hands as ointment was applied.

Bryce held her close, almost enclosing her in his arms. She looked frightened, clinging tightly to his waist.

That sight of them threatened a violent wave of nausea in Tiffany. She had to quickly clamp a hand over her mouth.

It turned out, there was no fracture at all. Brittany was just playing weak, acting pitiful the way she always did to make Bryce worry about her.

And once again, Tiffany had become the convenient scapegoat. She got accused out of nowhere of hurting her sister and slapped and condemned without a single person bothering to check what actually happened.

“Mom? What are you doing here?”

The voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

It was Flynn.

He was walking toward her down the hallway, a few CT films in his hand. When he saw his mom standing stiffly outside the hospital room, his brows drew together.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at home?” he asked. “Why did you follow us? What—are you here to give Aunt Brittany a hard time again?”

Inside the room, the two people froze.

They pulled apart almost instantly and looked toward the door. Their eyes met Tiffany’s.

Suddenly, the air went still.

After a moment, Bryce stepped out. His face was dark, his voice tight with barely contained anger.

“God damn it, Tiffany, what is wrong with you?” he demanded. “You really had to follow us all the way here? Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?”

Behind him, Brittany’s eyes were red. She sniffed softly, her voice small and shaky.

“Tiffany, I know you don’t like me. I know you blame me for making you upset earlier…” She paused, then added carefully, “But my foot really hurts. The doctor’s right here. P-Please don’t be angry anymore…”

Flynn saw his mother standing there, dazed and spiritless. Still, he deliberately ignored her. In his eyes, there was only his aunt in the ward, her eyes brimming with tears.

Irritation surged through him. He strode forward and flung the CT films at Tiffany’s chest.

“Mom, look at this!” he snapped. “The scans are done. The doctor said it’s soft-tissue damage. What more do you want, huh? Are you not satisfied unless everyone knows and the whole hospital gets a show? Do you really want to embarrass our family that badly? Mom, can’t you just be more reasonable for once?”

Reasonable. That word again.

That damn word hit her like a familiar shackle. She had lived under it for thirty years—tightened until it cut into her skin until there was nothing left of her except what they needed her to be.

This time, she didn’t want to wear it anymore.

Slowly, she raised her head.

For no clear reason, Bryce felt his heart jolt. A vague unease crept up his chest.

Tiffany reached into her bag and took out the freshly printed divorce agreement. Without hesitation, she walked up to him and held it out.

“Sign it.”

His pupils shrank.

He snatched the papers from her hands, fingers clenching so hard the pages crumpled and tore.

“What the hell are you doing now?!” he roared, furious and flustered. “Even causing a scene has its limits, Tiffany! You’re threatening me with divorce over something this trivial? How old are you? Almost fifty, and you’re still playing this game—cry, make a fuss, threaten suicide? Don’t you feel any shame?!”

Tiffany let out a faint, humorless smile.

“I’m not threatening you, Bryce,” she corrected calmly. “Look again. I’ve already signed it.”

Bryce’s breathing stalled. His eyes followed her finger to the signature at the bottom of the page.

The sight only made him angrier. His hands shook as he yelled, “God, you’re insane! Over a misunderstanding like today, you want a stupid divorce? Tiffany, I’m telling you, don’t push your luck! Without me, what do you think you are? You’re nothing but a fifty-year-old woman. Where do you think you can even go?”

“Mom!” Even Flynn panicked. He hadn’t expected her to be serious. He stepped forward, reaching for her arm—but she sidestepped him.

“Have you made enough trouble?! Dad’s right. You’ve taken care of us all these years. Are you just going to walk away from this family? From Dad? From me? What am I supposed to do? How can you be so… so unreasonable?”

“Because I was fucking reasonable!” Tiffany shot back. “That’s exactly why the two of you have spent thirty goddamn years tormenting me!”

After that, she turned and walked away, leaving one last sentence behind her.

“This marriage… I am so done with it!

Everyone stood frozen.

Brittany was the first to recover. She tugged lightly at Bryce’s sleeve.

“Bryce… you should go after her. Talk to my sister.”

But Bryce’s face only hardened.

He threw the stupid divorce agreement to the floor. That still wasn’t enough. He stepped on it hard, grinding it under his shoe until he was satisfied.

“Talk to her about what?” he spat. “That unreasonable woman’s just making a fuss. She’s been like this for decades—no growth at all! Always using divorce to threaten me at the smallest misunderstanding! Just ignore her! Give her a few days. Trust me, she’ll come crawling back on her own!”

Then he turned to Brittany, his tone softening immediately.

“Brittany, don’t let something like this upset you. Your only job right now is to rest and recover. Get your body back to full strength.”

“Our wedding is already fully prepared. We’ll be married the day after tomorrow.” He smiled gently. “You just need to be beautiful and healthy… my most beautiful bride.”

A shy look flashed across Brittany’s eyes.

“I’m looking forward to it, too,” she said sweetly. “Thank you, Bryce, for making my dream come true.”

Hearing that, Bryce reached out and rubbed her head affectionately.

After Brittany’s wound was treated, Bryce and Flynn escorted her home.

When they opened the door, dinner was already prepared. Tiffany was busy on the balcony, tending to something with her back to them.

A smug curve tugged at Bryce’s lips. He leaned slightly toward Brittany, who was resting against him, and murmured something.

“See? What did I tell you? Once she leaves this home, where could she possibly go?”

Brittany smiled as well and gave a soft, agreeable hum.

Flynn, following behind them, spotted her mother and finally let out a sigh of relief.

“Mom really went overboard this time,” he said. “Made such a huge fuss, and in the end, she still came back to cook. Dad, I told you—Mom can’t live without us.”

Bryce took his usual seat at the head of the table.

“Go call your mother,” he said casually. “Tell her to come eat. As for what happened earlier…” He paused, waved a hand dismissively. “Forget it. What’s done is done. We’re family—no grudges should last overnight.”

Dinner tasted like ash to Tiffany.

Throughout the meal, Bryce and their son kept serving food to Brittany, chatting and laughing as if nothing had happened earlier. Only Tiffany remained quiet the entire time.

Eventually, Bryce finally looked her way.

“The day after tomorrow, I’m taking Flynn to Hawaii,” he said. “There’s a resort project over there with good prospects. I’ll take him to see it in person. He’s old enough. It’s time he starts getting involved in the family business.”

It wasn’t a discussion. It was a notice.

Flynn’s eyes lit up immediately.

“Really, Dad? That’s amazing! I’ve always wanted to go abroad!” He turned to his mother, brimming with excitement. “Mom, don’t worry. I’ll learn properly from Dad.”

Brittany smiled, too. “Bryce is really thoughtful when it comes to Flynn,” she said warmly. “Flynn, you have to study hard and not disappoint your dad.”

As she spoke, her gaze flickered meaningfully toward Bryce. The two exchanged a look of quiet understanding.

At that point, Tiffany’s fingers curled into her palm.

The three of them really knew how to act. If she hadn’t already known the truth, she might have been fooled completely.

A resort inspection? Hah. It was the wedding they had been planning for ages—the ceremony they couldn’t wait to hold. And they were even taking her son along with them!

Pain surged in her chest, again and again, like a blunt blade sawing through meat.

She was utterly stupid—deceived from start to finish, treated by them as a joke, like a monkey put on a circus.

Head lowered, she poked absently at the vegetable on her plate.

“Mm, I understand,” she mumbled.

Hearing that, all the other three visibly relaxed.

After dinner, they still laughed and chatted, moving into the living room. Meanwhile, Tiffany stood up silently and began clearing the table.

She placed the dishes into the sink one by one.

Warm water ran over the grease. Foam rose and drifted away.

It was just like her thirty-year marriage—polished and respectable on the surface, rotten underneath. All it took was a rinse for the filth beneath to show.

She knew that the day after tomorrow, they would be in Hawaii, under blue skies and beside clear seas, vowing to grow old together.

But this apartment was already listed for sale. She would be gone soon. And they would disappear from her life entirely.

That was fine.

The steady sound of running water drowned out everything else.

That was fine.

On the day the three were set to leave for Hawaii for the wedding, Tiffany woke before dawn.

Thirty years of early mornings to prepare breakfast had long since turned into a habit.

Early that day, Brittany was already fully dressed, wearing a brand-new pale yellow dress that made her look delicate and radiant.

“Good morning, Tiffany,” she greeted with a smile. “Sorry for making you get up so early to make breakfast.”

They sat down together to eat. Then… something went wrong.

Brittany had just finished a soup when her face suddenly drained of color. Cold sweat broke out across her forehead.

“Ah! It hurts! It hurts so bad!” she gasped. “Bryce! My tummy! My tummy really hurts…”

“Brittany!” Bryce rushed to support her, his expression growing worried in an instant. “What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

Flynn also shot to his feet, panic written all over his face. “Auntie! What happened to you?”

“I-I don’t know… It just started all of a sudden… like cramps…”

Tiffany froze, spoon still in her hand.

She looked up at Brittany’s pale face, a bad feeling sinking deep into her gut.

“There must be something wrong with the breakfast!” Flynn blurted out in anger. He pointed at the spread of food on the table, then turned sharply toward his mother. “Mom! Was it you? Did you put something in the food? Just because Aunt Brittany is going to Hawaii with Dad, you’re jealous, you can’t accept it? That’s why you did such a disgusting thing to hurt her?!”

Hearing that, Bryce looked at her, too.

“Tiffany,” he demanded, “was it you?!”

It felt as if she were holding a block of ice against her chest—so cold it made her tremble.

“I didn’t…”

Bryce stood abruptly and crossed the room in a few long strides. His tall frame loomed over her.

“Then why would Brittany suddenly be in pain?!” he roared. “Why today of all fucking days? Why right before we’re supposed to leave, huh?! My god, Tiffany, I really underestimated you. Thirty years—I thought you were just weak and useless. I never imagined your mind could be this vicious!”

In his fury, he swept his arm across the table.

Bowls, plates, salad, soup—everything crashed to the floor. Hot, greasy liquid splashed everywhere. Shards scattered across the tiles.

Tiffany remained seated, unmoving. Porcelain cut into her skin. Blood seeped out. Yet, she didn’t react at all.

Flynn shot her a vicious glare.

“Dad, let’s take Aunt Brittany to the hospital first!”

Soon, the front door slammed shut with such force that the walls seemed to shudder.

Tiffany stared blankly at the mess covering the floor.

That special bowl was broken.

It was the one they had bought when they first got married.

They used it for thirty years.

And now, it was shattered.

Just like their relationship—broken beyond repair.

She didn’t know how much time passed before her phone vibrated.

It was a message from her son.

[Mom, we got Aunt Brittany checked at the hospital. False alarm. Auntie was just having period cramps. The doctor gave her some meds. She’s fine now.]

[Dad said it was getting late, so we went straight from the hospital to the airport.]

[Stay home. You can clean everything up yourself.]

Every line was filled with concern for Brittany.

Not a single word for Tiffany.

She stared at the message for a long time before quietly turning off the screen.

Moments later, it lit up again.

This time, it was a call from Barron.

“Hey, it’s me,” he began. “The apartment sale is complete. Are you free? I just wrapped up a case and finally have some time. How about we go on a trip? Consider it celebrating your regained freedom. My treat.”

Tiffany was silent for a long time, and Barron didn’t rush her. He just quietly waited.

Finally, she took a slow breath.

“Okay.”

Not long after, a message popped up—two plane tickets to Hawaii, departing that afternoon.

His voice carried a faint smile through the receiver.

“Pack your things. I’ll come pick you up right away.”

That afternoon, Tiffany packed everything she owned in that apartment and went to the airport with Barron.

Not long after, the plane climbed into the sky.

She closed her eyes, feeling a sense of lightness spreading through her chest.

Finally, she had said goodbye to everything in her past.

It was time—to begin again and go after a happiness that belonged to her.