Mark Carlson and I had been a secret couple for three years.

He was nothing but my boss at work. But at home, he treated me however he pleased, with no regard for my feelings.

One day, I noticed him researching marriage. My heart leapt with joy. I prepared my proof of identity and other relevant documents, thinking he was finally ready, but he went to the marriage registration office with another woman.

"You're married now. You should clean up things at home quickly,” one of his friends said, grinning.

"Yeah, I should. But honestly, she does not have to leave entirely,” Mark replied with a smirk.

I watched as everyone laughed, their faces filled with delight. Tears streamed down my face as I turned away. I pulled out my phone and called my childhood friend, Andy Selton.

"You wanted to marry me, didn't you?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Later, two weddings were held on the same day.

Mark's face filled with regret as he stared at my wedding photo with Andy. In the middle of his ceremony, he left his bride behind and drove to find me.

But by then, I was already married to my husband!

Andy laughed over the phone like a child. Feeling flustered, I hung up abruptly.

I returned to the home I shared with Mark in a cab.

I quickly packed up all my belongings and arranged for a moving service. Just as I was about to leave, Mark walked through the door.

His eyes swept over the half-empty living room. He frowned slightly and handed me a black credit card from his pocket.

"Are you downsizing? Take this card and buy whatever you like," he said, his tone lighthearted.

Mark seemed to be in a good mood.

I stepped forward and lightly touched the corner of his mouth. His smile made me feel a wave of discomfort, almost physically so.

"You seem happy," I asked, pretending not to know.

Mark lifted me off the ground and spun me around. Then, he kissed my forehead and held me tightly in his arms.

"Claire, I got a promotion," he said, his voice trembling with excitement.

My heart felt like it had been plunged into an icy abyss. Tears began streaming down my face before I could stop them.

It was hard to believe. Just hours ago, Mark had registered his marriage with another woman, yet there he was, spinning me around in celebration.

I was not even worth the truth to him. I was nothing more than a pet he kept at home for amusement.

We had been together for three years, and I had brought up marriage countless times.

However, Mark always avoided the topic. When he could not avoid it anymore, he would make vague promises, feeding me false hope.

"I will marry you soon, Claire," he would say.

He had finally married someone else.

As Mark sensed something was off, he tightened his hold on me and asked with a trace of panic, "What's wrong, Claire? Are you feeling unwell?"

I wiped my tears, broke free from his arms, and looked him straight in the eye. With as much composure as I could muster, I asked, "Mark, are you ready to marry me this year?"

A flicker of panic crossed his face. Just as he opened his mouth to come up with an excuse, the front door clicked open. A woman stepped inside, holding a set of keys.

She walked up behind Mark and wrapped her arms around him.

"Is this the little songbird you keep at home?" she asked, her tone dripping with disdain.

Her gaze fell on me, filled with scorn, as if I was not worth her attention.

So, that was the truth. For three years, I had been nothing but his mistress. Finally, the rightful woman had arrived, and it was time for me to leave.

"Hello, Ms. Shelby. I am Mark's wife. I've been studying abroad for the past three years, and now I'm back!"

Sharon Lindsey reached out with her hand toward me.

Though her words seemed friendly, they were full of subtle claims to ownership.

I had been nothing more than a temporary replacement for Sharon during those three years. Sharon was back, and I could be discarded then.

"Ms. Shelby, are you planning on leaving? If so, that would be perfect because I was considering moving in tonight."

Sharon pretended not to notice when she accidentally bumped into my suitcase.

A pile of photos and small trinkets spilled out of the suitcase.

Sharon picked up a small plain ring and turned to Mark.

"Isn't this the ring you made for me, Mark? I thought it was too simple, so you made me another one."

She smiled as she spoke.

She wore a gold ring on her right hand, which was much more intricate than mine.

That ring had been given to me by Mark on our first anniversary. I had kept it carefully, never wanting to wear it, and had placed it on my vanity. I finally realized it was simply something no one else wanted.

I felt as if I was publicly humiliated while Sharon laughed and taunted me.

Mark did not say a word throughout the whole exchange. His gaze was filled with affection and tenderness that I had never received.

"Enough! I'm leaving."

I shouted in anger; my voice trembled from the humiliation.

I quickly packed my things and placed the key to the house on the table, turning to leave.

"Why don't you come with me to buy some clothes? After all, I like your favorite style."

Sharon blocked my path, her eyes filled with jealousy as she looked at my clothes.

I wore a coat; it was a couple's set Mark and I had bought together, but he did not wear his that day.

"Sorry, I'm leaving."

Sharon grabbed my arm and refused to let me go. She held onto my suitcase, looking at me with a pitiful expression.

"I don't have any friends. That's why I want you to stay with me.

"Don't be angry. I was only joking with you. I'm sorry!"

Suddenly, she let go, and my suitcase rolled over her feet.

"You're too much, Claire!"

Mark stormed over and shoved me aside before he scooped Sharon up, placing her on the sofa and tending to the bruise on her foot.

I stumbled backward, slamming into the door. The pain made me tear up.

I grabbed my suitcase and left the house without looking back. The pain from the injury I got earlier stung, but no one cared.

I saw Andy's car parked nearby by the roadside as I left the house. He rushed over and checked in with me when he saw my tear-streaked face.

I looked at him with a pout, feeling wholly wronged. He immediately noticed something was off where Mark did not.

"Are you hurt? Let me take you to the hospital," Andy said. He gently picked me up and carefully placed me in the passenger seat.

Once the doctor had cleaned and bandaged my wound, he finally relaxed.

"Who hurt you, Claire? Let me take care of them!" He looked at the bruise on my back, his eyes filled with pain. He sounded so emotional, almost on the verge of tears, as though he wanted to take care of Mark for me personally.

I had never seen that look on Mark. I finally realized who truly cared about me.

"Andy, do you really want to marry me?" I asked with uncertainty.

Andy knew about the three years I had spent entangled with Mark, but he still agreed to marry me with a single phone call. At that moment, my heart finally tipped toward him.

When we got in the car, I took my suitcase from the trunk and left it by the trash can.

As we were on our way back to his place, my phone rang.

"Where are you, Claire? Sharon just came back, and she's still getting used to this place, so she's staying with me. I'll find you a place," Mark's voice was hoarse like he had just finished some intense exercise.

It was already 10 p.m.—more than enough time for them to spend together.

I did not answer him and hung up the phone.

The next morning, I went to the office to pack my belongings when a familiar face stopped me.

"You're late, Claire. I'm going to deduct a full day's salary.

"Someone like you must care about that money, but I bet Mark's been slipping you plenty these last three years," Sharon said, her eyes full of malice.

She was the Executive Assistant—a position I had dreamed of, just to be closer to Mark. He had refused to let me be his assistant to keep a sense of mystery in our relationship, and he did not want me to deal with the trivial tasks.

It turned out that he did not want me to be one.

I handed her my resignation letter.

"I've already quit. You can deduct whatever you want from my salary."

Then, I walked out of the office building. As I stepped into the elevator, tears started to flow.

I had seen a photo on Sharon's desk—a birthday picture of her and Mark. Every year on his birthday, he would leave and tell me it was his one day to escape and clear his mind. I would wait until after 6 a.m. the next day to send him a birthday message.

I finally realized it was not about clearing his mind but about spending his birthday with the person he wanted to be with.