The exotic wines picked from the finest vineyards, the luxury designer dress wrapped in tissue paper, or the simple handwritten cards from Dan's kindergarten class. As long as he thought I would like it, Dan would present it carefully to me.

However, our loving mother and son's bond began to deteriorate ever since I forbade him to eat sweets because Dan had a tooth decay problem.

As this thought went across my mind, I choked back tears and began packing up all these items.

When the delivery man arrived, I handed him the package and gave precise instructions, "Please send this to Villa No. 14 in Clear Water Bay exactly one week from now. The recipient's name is Candice Black. Tell her she can have the husband and son now. After all, I've decided to discard this garbage heap of a father and son."

"What are you discarding, Brenda?"

Just as the words fell, George held our son, Dan, in his arms as he walked towards me. The boy clutched two bottles of exotic wine in his small hands, their labels written in French.

The moment his feet touched the ground, Dan ran eagerly toward me. "Mommy, Daddy bought these special wines just for you! Do you like them?"

He thrust the bottles into my hands, his bright eyes glistening with hope for getting my praise.

George glanced briefly at the departing delivery man. Suspicion flashed in his eyes as he asked, "What were you sending just now?"

I did not elaborate, I only said, "Nothing important, they were just some useless junks."

"You should've let the housekeeper handle that. You know you're not in the best health and should be resting more," George said disapprovingly, his brows furrowed. It seemed he was really concerned for me, his wife.

" A bit of housework won't hurt me," I refuted.

George shook his head helplessly. "You're always like this. Leave such tasks to me from now on."

He continued, "By the way, for our wedding anniversary tonight, Dan and I picked out something special for you. Do you like it?"

He handed me a shopping bag with a luxury brand logo emblazoned across it. Inside was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. Midnight blue silk with delicate beading along the neckline. The kind of dress that cost more than most people's monthly salary.

His face was full of apology. "I had planned for us to have a nice dinner together at that French restaurant you love, but something urgent came up at work. I had to take Dan with me to the office. How about we reschedule and celebrate the anniversary properly next week?"

Dan nodded his head enthusiastically and chimed in, "Daddy was super busy. I even fell asleep waiting for him at the office!"

I studied George's face for a long time. Yet his expression only showed the love I used to see, there was not a trace of guilt there.

As for the supposed dinner at the restaurant, George had brought Dan along with him to see Candice. There was no way he could split his time to celebrate with me, even if he wanted to.

I only laughed as I looked briefly at the dress in my hand and said carelessly, "I see. Let's go inside immediately. Look! Dan is freezing with cold."

In the past, I would have immediately shielded Dan from the cold wind at the door. I would even offer him my scarf. Now, however, I didn't bother. I simply used this as an excuse to change the subject.

Once inside, both father and son duo looked around the noticeably emptier living room with puzzled expressions.

George quickly realized that something was amiss. His lips tightened as he asked cautiously, "Brenda, did something go missing in the house?"

Dan also noted that the family portrait he had given me was gone. He hurriedly tugged the corner of my clothes and asked anxiously, "Mommy, where is my painting?"

I calmly shook away my son's hand. I took a sip of water in the living room, then replied slowly, "Those things were taking up too much space. I sold them to the scrap collector."

When he heard this, George sighed a quiet sigh of relief. For him, as long as that matter remained concealed, everything was okay. Although he was cheating on his wife, inside his heart, I was his one and only wife.

"This phrase is called 'out with the old, in with the new," said George. "This is just a way for your mother to encourage you to draw a brand-new family portrait for her. After all, our little Dan has grown so much."

It was clear that Dan took his father's words to heart because he threw his body into my arms and with his childish voice he vowed, "Mommy, I'll draw lots and lots of new family portraits for you!"

Well! Out with the old, in with the new, huh?

My eyes were full of self-deprecation. So, this old wife and old mother would have to give way to the younger and prettier Candice.

The aroma of food lingered faintly in the air and entered George's nose. However, when he spotted the still steaming beef stew discarded in the trash, he was surprised.

"You made my favorite beef stew?" George's voice carried genuine confusion. He walked over to the trash can and stared at the wasted food. "Why did you throw it away?"

I set down the expensive wine bottles on the counter. I didn't even bother to look at him. "I lost my appetite."

"Are you feeling unwell?" George reached out to touch my forehead, but I stepped back.

"I'm fine. Just tired."

The rejection stung, but George chose to ignore it. He glanced at Dan, who was already heading upstairs with his little backpack.

"Dan, come say goodnight to Mommy first," George called out.

The boy turned around and ran back down. He wrapped his small arms around my waist. "Goodnight, Mommy. I love you."

My chest tightened. I wanted to hug him back, to hold him close one last time. But the image of Dan holding Candice's hand at the award ceremony stopped me.

"Goodnight," I said simply, not returning the embrace.

Dan's face fell, but he didn't say anything. He just trudged upstairs, his little shoulders slumped.

George watched the interaction with growing unease. "Brenda, is something wrong? You've been acting strange."

"I said I'm tired, George. Can't a person just be tired?"

"Of course, I just…"

"I'm going to bed." I picked up the designer dress and the wine bottles. I walked past George without another word.

He stood there in the living room, surrounded by the faint smell of the anniversary dinner that never was. Something felt off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

Upstairs, I laid the dress on my bed. It really was beautiful. The kind of dress a man bought when he was trying to ease his guilt.

I wondered if Candice had helped him pick it out. The thought made me laugh bitterly.

I changed into my nightgown and slipped under the covers. The bed felt cold and empty, just like our marriage.

About thirty minutes later, the bedroom door opened. George walked in, carrying a sleepy Dan in his arms.

"Daddy, I want to sleep with you and Mommy tonight," Dan mumbled, his eyes half-closed.

George glanced at me apologetically. "He had a nightmare. Is it okay if he stays here tonight?"

I didn't answer. I just turned my face to the wall.

George laid Dan between us on the bed. The little boy immediately curled up, seeking warmth. Within minutes, his breathing became slow and steady. He was asleep.

I lay there, staring at the wall, feeling the small body of my son between me and my husband. This should have been a sweet family moment. Instead, it felt suffocating.

George shifted beside Dan, probably trying to get comfortable. The silence in the room was thick and uncomfortable.

Just as I thought I might fall asleep, a phone rang. Loud and jarring in the quiet bedroom.

George scrambled to grab his phone from the nightstand. I caught a glimpse of the screen before he could hide it.

Candice. Her name glowed there like an accusation.

"I'll take this in the bathroom," George whispered, already climbing out of bed. "It's work."

Work? At this hour. On our anniversary.

I listened to his footsteps pad across the floor. The bathroom door closed with a soft click.

Dan stirred slightly but didn't wake. I could hear the muffled sound of George's voice through the door. His tone was gentle, warm. The same way he used to talk to me.

Several minutes passed. Five, maybe ten. I counted each second, each breath, each heartbeat.

Finally, the bathroom door opened. George emerged, already pulling on his pants and reaching for a shirt.

"I have to go to the office," he said quietly, not meeting my eyes. "Something urgent came up."

Dan's eyes fluttered open. "Daddy? Where are you going?"

"Just to work, buddy. Go back to sleep."

"Will Candice be there?" Dan asked innocently. "She promised me ice cream earlier."

My blood ran cold, and George froze.

"No," George said firmly, his voice tight. "Go to sleep, Dan."

He leaned over and kissed Dan's forehead, then turned to me, pressing a kiss to my forehead as well.

I didn't react. I just lay there, staring at him with empty eyes.

"I'll be back soon," he whispered.

Then he was gone.

I listened to his footsteps on the stairs, the jingle of his car keys, the front door opening and closing. The sound of his car starting in the driveway, then fading into the distance.

Dan snuggled closer to me, seeking the warmth his father had left behind. "Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"Are you mad at Daddy?"

I looked down at my son's face. "No, Dan. Go to sleep."

He closed his eyes, satisfied with my answer.

But I was lying. I was beyond mad. I was done.

Even as Dan lay there, I felt nothing. No pity. No remorse. No second thoughts about my plan.

George had just left our bed on our anniversary to go to her. And Dan, my only son, had asked if she would be there. As if it was normal. As if she was part of our lives.

I already hated them both. There was no going back now.