In the second year of my marriage to Jeffery Sadler, he brought a young woman home.

When his eyes met mine, Jeffery smiled carelessly and said, "Naomi, perhaps you should try it too." He added, "After all, young and energetic people are truly different."

I knew he was only testing me; he had always enjoyed tormenting and toying with me.

But what he didn't know was that this time, I was genuinely tempted.

Later, as he stared at the fresh scratch marks on the "young person's" waist and abdomen, his eyes blazed red with anger. "Naomi Sloan," he growled, “Who gave you the audacity to actually take this seriously?”

As I returned home, intermittent laughter echoed from the second-floor bedroom.

I took off my coat, draped it over my arm, and hesitated for a moment.

Finally, I walked toward the bedroom with heavy steps.

Pushing open the ornate oak doors, I immediately saw Jeffery.

His crisp white shirt was half-open, and his tie was long gone.

The girl in his arms was feeding him strawberries.

Though he playfully pushed her hand away, his expression revealed he was quite pleased.

Hearing footsteps, the young girl turned with a smile:

"Oh, Jeff, is your housekeeping bringing the coffee—"

Her unfinished words died in her throat, and the strawberry in her hand fell to the plush carpet.

When she saw me, her face turned pale, and she stammered:

"Ms... Ms. Sloan..."

My gaze fell on her neck and shoulders, where a string of hickeys was glaringly obvious.

My throat felt constricted, my voice hoarse:

"Jeffery, what are you doing?"

He lifted his eyelids to glance at me, clicking his tongue impatiently.

His long fingers played with the girl's blonde hair:

"You're asking the obvious. Can't you see for yourself?"

Jeffery held the girl close, looking me up and down.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, he continued:

"But Naomi, you really should learn from these young girls."

"It's bad enough that you always look so gloomy, but you're also as rigid as a statue."

"It's really quite depressing and boring."

—

I've known Jeffery for eighteen years, and he's resented me for just as long.

When I was seven, my mother interfered with his once-happy family.

Yet, barely two years later, she ran off with all of Uncle Sam's money, leaving only me, a burden, behind.

I volunteered to go to an orphanage, but Jeffery firmly refused.

His eyes blazing red, he gripped my arms painfully.

"Naomi, don't even think about it. You'll spend your whole life by my side, atoning for your sins."

I nodded, thinking that what he wanted, what he needed, was for me to stay by his side, working like a slave until he was satisfied.

Unexpectedly, after graduation, he took me to get our marriage license.

When Uncle Sam found out about our marriage, he was furious.

After calming down, he pulled me aside, crying:

"Naomi, what Jeffery did was wrong, but don't blame him."

Uncle Sam paused, then advised me,

"Since you're married now, try to make it work—"

"Naomi, please give the Sadler family an heir."

He said the last part so solemnly that I asked, confused,

"Uncle Sam, will having a child count as atonement?"

He froze, then covered his eyes, unable to look at me.

His voice choked with emotion:

"Of course it does... I'm sorry, Naomi."

—

On our wedding night, I reached out, my hand resting on the buttons of Jeffery's shirt.

Beyond the silky touch was the firm, smooth contour of muscle.

Just as I was about to undo the last button, Jeffery grabbed my hand.

His face expressionless, he stopped my action with excessive force.

"Naomi, do you realize what you're doing right now?"

I nodded, looking up at him.

"Your father hopes we'll build a life together and have a child."

Jeffery slowly pried my hand away.

He smiled at me, but his eyes were icy.

"You're just as cheap as your mother.

"But then again, what good could come from someone with no morals?"

He shoved me away, smashing the crystal ornament from the side table against me.

Glass shards scattered across the hardwood floor.

I stumbled weakly, crashing hard into the mahogany coffee table behind me.

He stepped on my fingers, looking at me with disgust.

"Don't think having a child means redemption, that you can leave me.

"Naomi, no one will ever love you in this life."

"You should stay by my side like a dog, at my beck and call."

Jeffery's crisp white shirt hung loosely, buttons mostly undone, revealing the chiseled muscles from years of working out.

I glanced once, then calmly looked away.

Since that unpleasant wedding night, Jeffery had never been intimate with me again.

He disdained touching me, always surrounding himself with other women.

Because of this, his father's longed-for grandchild never had a chance.

"Naomi," Jeffery called my name softly.

It was a rare gentle tone.

I looked up. He gazed at me, his eyes unable to hide their mockery.

"Perhaps you should try someone new too.

"Young and energetic people are always different."

I smiled and turned to leave.

I knew he said this just to embarrass me.

If I really did it, he would go berserk.

"Naomi," Jeffery suddenly called out behind me.

I turned back, looking at him questioningly.

He waved his iPhone at me, indicating that I should look at the message.

"There's a gala tonight. Remember to doll yourself up."

…

I was very confused. Jeffery had never taken me to any gatherings before.

After our marriage, he didn’t want to associate with me in public.

But this time—

It wasn't until we stepped into the hotel lobby that I understood why he wanted to bring me to this event.

Arm in arm with him, my gaze fell on a familiar figure not far away.

I froze in place, my feet suddenly feeling like lead.

Dylan Carter... he had actually returned.

Jeffery noticed my stiffness and leaned in to whisper in my ear, “How about that? Excited to see your high school sweetheart?”

He looked up, following my gaze.

Their eyes met across the room.

Jeffery didn’t shy away from the gaze at all; his lips curled into a smile.

Holding his wine glass, he strolled leisurely toward Dylan.

“Mr. Carter, I've heard so much about you.”

His playful gaze lingered on me for a moment.

Then he raised his glass to Dylan. “I hear you're an old classmate of Naomi's. It's a shame you couldn't make it to our wedding.”

Dylan glanced at him briefly, then his gaze slowly settled on me. “Long time no see, Naomi.”

I took a deep breath, and when I spoke, my voice was tinged with hoarseness. “Hi, Dylan.”

The tension in the air was palpable.

I could feel Jeffery's eyes on me, gauging my reaction.

Dylan's presence had caught me off guard, stirring up memories and emotions I had long buried.

Jeffery's grip on my arm tightened slightly, a subtle reminder of his control over the situation.

His voice was light, almost jovial, as he continued the conversation, but I could hear the underlying edge in his tone.

“You know, Dylan, Naomi rarely talks about her past. I'm sure you two have a lot of catching up to do.”

I glanced at Jeffery, trying to decipher his game.

Was he trying to humiliate me, or was there something else at play?

Dylan's eyes hadn’t left my face. “It’s been a long time, Naomi.”

I took a deep breath, and when I spoke again, my voice had a slight rasp to it.

During high school, Dylan and I were desk mates for three full years.

I still remember when Dylan chose to study liberal arts in university.

Our homeroom teacher was puzzled, given his outstanding grades in science subjects.

Dylan glanced at me and said he wanted to make films.

I remained silent.

Back then, I was too insecure to even voice the most common dreams of youth.

Later, Dylan submitted a story I had written to a writing contest on my behalf.

He spread the winning certificate in front of me, pointing at the name "Naomi Sloan" on it, saying:

"Don't be afraid, Naomi. Look, you really are talented."

Back then, when sunlight streamed through the classroom windows, he always liked to nap facing me.

One day, as I was writing an outline, he mumbled with half-closed eyes:

"In the future, you'll write scripts, and I'll turn them into movies. We'll never be apart."

We were young then, truly looking forward to the future.

I even believed for a while that it would be our future.

It was pouring rain on the day of our SATs.

When I walked out of the exam hall, Dylan was already waiting for me with an umbrella.

Watching our classmates celebrating wildly in the rain, I nudged him:

"Dylan, why don't we go crazy too?"

He moved closer to me, tilting the umbrella almost completely over me:

"No way, your period is coming soon. You can't risk catching a cold."

My face flushed hot. Looking at our classmates coming and going, I felt a twinge of sadness:

"Dylan, after graduation, we won't be able to see each other every day anymore."

He gazed into the misty rain and chuckled softly:

"We're just graduating, not breaking up."

The rain was so loud that I thought I might have misheard. I wanted to confirm:

"What did you say?"

"If you didn't hear it, forget it."

Dylan lifted his chin proudly.

Even until we parted ways, he never repeated those words.

—

Jeffery poured a glass of wine and handed it to me, gesturing with his chin.

"Old friends reuniting; go on and toast to him."

Hearing this, Dylan's usually cool and noble features took on a hint of darkness.

He reached out to stop my glass.

"No need. Don't make her drink. She's not good with alcohol."

I blinked hard, fighting back the sting in my eyes, and lifted the glass.

"It's okay; I can drink now."

He paused for a moment, then chuckled softly as he raised the glass a waiter had brought him, his voice low.

"Hmm, all grown up now."

Jeffery's hand around my waist tightened. He looked down at me, his gaze direct, filled with mockery and disgust.

"Mr. Carter."

He smiled, leaning down to kiss me lightly.

"Naomi and I have pleasant matters to attend to; we'll take our leave first."

Jeffery's words were suggestive.

My face turned pale.

Dylan reached out and gripped Jeffery's arm.

The back of his hand tensed, veins bulging, indicating just how furious he was.

But when he turned to look at me, his tone softened considerably.

"Naomi, do you want to go with him?"

Jeffery smiled carelessly, putting the choice in my hands.

"Darling, he's asking you. Do you want to come with me?"

I felt my whole body trembling slightly, my fingertips pressing hard enough to dig into my flesh.

It wasn't until Dylan spoke again that I was pulled back to reality.

I could barely look at him, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Dylan, we'll make a move first."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I didn't dare linger.

I left with Jeffery, arm in arm.