In my first year at work, I had rushed into marrying my boss, caught up in a whirlwind I never fully understood. For the past four years, I have dedicated myself to catering to his every need.

But recently, something had shifted. He started calling me wife and, shockingly, kissed me first.

With the company's IPO on the horizon, I wondered if he was finally ready to make our relationship public, to share with the world what we had built in the shadows.

But as with all fleeting moments of happiness, it was as fragile as fireworks. On the IPO day, Cora Buckingham returned to the country, and Easton Cavendish quickly became her knight in shining armor. He blocked three drinks for her and even had his arm around her waist.

I was there, too. At the venue, in the same room, but it felt like I was invisible.

[Easton, I’m going home,] I sent the message, knowing this would be the last time I would endure his indifference.

——

I was going home, to our home. The place I had built with him in my heart. I told myself that if Easton came out of the banquet hall now, I would forgive him. After all, I was his wife.

It was just blocking drinks; maybe he had his reasons. I told myself I was willing to listen to his explanation, to find a way to understand. But as the minutes stretched into hours, even my own excuses fell apart. By the time I could no longer convince myself, he still hadn’t come.

Finally, when the banquet ended, Easton stepped out, carrying Cora in his arms. She seemed drunk, her cheeks flushed, and they were far too close.

I pressed myself into the corner, my heart tightening with every beat, a knot of dread settling in my chest.

Easton had always been particular and even obsessive. It had taken a year before we could share the same bed without him needing everything in its perfect place. How quickly things had changed.

It took two years before we finally consummated our marriage. Still, all it took was a simple gesture from Cora, and she had him.

Easton removed her coat and held her close, his arms wrapped around her like she was the only one who mattered.

Tears streamed down my face; each drop was a reflection of the pain that crushed my chest, the injustice threatening to suffocate me.

Then, with a soft voice, Cora spoke her smile barely there but enough to send a chill through me.

"Easton, is there no chance for us?"

The words cut like ice, and I felt my heart freeze. But I was his wife, and I watched with unwavering eyes. If Easton nodded, I knew what I had to do. I would walk away from him, even if it meant betraying my father's last wish.

I had been swept along by the winds for so long, so lost in the whirlwind that I hadn’t even realized the fever creeping through my body.

My head grew heavy, the world tilting as I collapsed to the floor with a sharp thud, shattering the fragmented images that had clouded my thoughts.

Even then, I hadn’t heard his answer.

"Breigh Windsor!" A voice called my name, breaking through the haze.

A moment later, I felt Easton’s presence, the familiar blend of alcohol and perfume filling the air. It was suffocating, and I hated it.

When I finally came to, I found myself in a hospital room, my dress replaced by a sterile patient gown.

Easton was draped over the sofa, his suit jacket falling carelessly from his shoulders. He looked like a man who carried the weight of the world, his profile both gentle and determined.

I loved him at that moment, the quiet strength he exuded, but the truth was, he had never chosen me. He’d been forced into this marriage, bound by duty, when my father’s illness had taken hold.

Perhaps it had all been wrong from the very beginning.

A lump formed in my throat, and tears began to fall freely, each drop heavier than the last.

"Easton… let's get a divorce," I whispered, the words barely escaping, but they tore through me like a blade. My heart felt like it was being crushed, aching with a pain I couldn’t escape.

The man on the sofa seemed to sense the shift in the air, his brow furrowing deeper in response. But I didn’t care.

With a steady breath, I carefully slipped out of the bed. I couldn’t bear to stay here, to remain under the same roof with him, my boss, the man who towered over me in every way, young, powerful, unreachable.

I couldn’t fight against him.

So, I went home, gathered my documents, and walked out.

I was done. I wanted a divorce.

Once the thought entered my mind, I couldn’t push it away any longer.

Three days passed in silence, each one heavier than the last. I ignored all of Easton’s calls, seeking refuge in the solitude, waiting for the lawyer to send me the divorce papers.

Eventually, I turned off my phone and buried myself under the hotel’s thick blankets, the world outside slipping further away.

Then, the door burst open, and I found myself face to face with Easton, his stubble a rough contrast to his usually polished appearance.

Without a word, he pulled me into his arms, holding me close as though trying to absorb every part of me.

It was the same feeling I used to crave every night, the pressure of his embrace, holding me until I could hardly breathe.

And now, I understand that feeling.

Easton’s voice shook, the tremor impossible to hide.

"Breigh, you’re not being obedient. Do you have any idea how terrified I am that something might happen to you?"

His words hung in the air like a heavy cloud. "If anything happens to you, how am I supposed to face Uncle Sebastian?"

It was clear now; he had promised my father to look after me, but never had he promised to love me.

Today, I finally understood.

Now that his true love had entered the picture, I would no longer stand in his way.

I fought back the rising lump in my throat, tearing myself from his arms.

"Easton, let’s get a divorce. I’ll leave right away."

My voice was a broken whisper, but my gaze was fierce, unwavering in its resolve.

Easton’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his fear palpable as he reached for my hand, his voice unsteady. "Breigh, I can explain."

I recoiled instantly, backing away as if his touch could burn me. "I just want a divorce."

The air between us hung thick with silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing down. The police left, leaving nothing but the echo of our conflict.

I stood, facing Easton, until the lawyer arrived with the divorce agreement.

The anger in Easton’s eyes was unmistakable now. His gaze was red, a fury I had only seen once before when my father passed away.

"Breigh, so you’ve made up your mind. You don’t want me anymore, but you don’t get to decide that. I won’t agree to the divorce."

With that, he stormed out, tearing the divorce papers into pieces as if they were nothing but scraps.

I couldn’t understand why Easton wouldn’t just let me go. Maybe it was the promise he made to my father before his death.

He was a good man but not a good partner. Four years had passed, and now his past had returned, his ‘first love’ shining brightly once more.

I wasn’t the type of person who couldn’t live without him. I wanted to explain everything, clear the air, and, while I was at it, gather my things from the office.

But when I opened the door, I was met with an unexpected sight.

Cora was sitting at my desk, casually toying with my ceramic bunny, her fingers flicking my nameplate into the trash like it was nothing.

"Are you Breigh?" she asked, her smile wide and unapologetic. There was no hint of shame in her eyes, just a bold, almost defiant glint as she puffed her chest out, clearly proud of herself.

"Easton’s been sick these past few days," she continued, her tone dripping with sweetness. "He’s resting inside. Don’t disturb him."

Did she know about the private space inside? Of course, Easton probably had it set up for her, already planning for me to be out of the picture.

I walked in without hesitation, completely ignoring her smug smile.

I headed straight to my desk, pulled out a box, and began gathering my things.

"What do you think you’re doing?" she demanded, rushing toward me. Her sharp manicure scraped my skin, and I couldn’t help but cry out in pain.

"Get out of my way," I snapped, my voice steady. "I’m just making some room for you two."

The words had barely left my lips when the CEO’s office door swung open.

Easton stepped out, looking every bit the man who had been in hiding, his presence filling the room with tension.

I wasn’t the type to depend on him. I had things to say, things to explain, and, of course, my things to pack.

Cora’s eyes welled up, her lower lip trembling as though she were on the verge of tears—just like the scenes you’d see in TV dramas.

It was almost laughable.

"Scum," I muttered under my breath, my desire to leave this house growing stronger with each passing second.

My body shook with anger, the disgust I felt for him surging within me. How could he do this? How could he disgust me like this?

He was the one who wanted the divorce, yet here he was, playing this twisted game.

"Breigh." His voice was weak, hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

His face was pale, and I watched as Cora immediately slipped behind him, seeking refuge.

Easton’s brow furrowed, but his eyes never left me.

"Go back to work, Cora.”

Easton wanted to send her away, and Cora immediately looked even more wrong.

"I’m not leaving," Cora protested, her voice growing louder. "Easton, I need to explain to Breigh. How can she call me the third party? Our relationship has always been pure… How could she say such a thing?"

Easton’s face twisted with annoyance as his brow creased even more deeply.

"Ridiculous.”

I didn’t want to hear any more of their lies or see their charade any longer, even though every word felt like a knife to my heart. But I forced myself to endure it, my body trembling with the weight of the pain.

I didn’t stop packing, my hands moving faster as if each motion could somehow wash away the sadness and anger pooling inside me.

"The divorce papers are in my bag. I’ve signed them already. We’ll go to the Civil Affairs Bureau on Monday. I’m not afraid of the thirty-day waiting period. I’ll stay in the old house. I’ll handle it alone. As for the property... keep everything. I don’t want a thing."

"I won’t divorce you." Easton’s voice cracked as he coughed violently, desperate to stop me.

"I won’t divorce you, Breigh. Listen to me, please."

His words felt like they were pulling me under, but I wasn’t about to let him drown me with more lies.

"Cora is a university classmate. We share a special bond, but we’re just friends. Don’t read too much into it."

"I don’t care," I shot back, my words sharper than I intended. "I just want a divorce."

"Easton, I’ve grown up," I continued, my voice steady, though my heart was anything but. "I can face the world on my own now. I don’t need your protection anymore, and I don’t need to worry about my father’s wish. The truth is, I don’t like you anymore."

His tone made it seem as though I were the one being unreasonable, but I couldn’t let his manipulation break me.

And there she was, Cora, sitting at my desk, tossing my nameplate into the trash like it was nothing.

Everything, absolutely everything, was a privilege Easton had given her.

He wasn’t innocent.

My words hung in the air, leaving Easton speechless, while Cora shrank behind him, her smile triumphant and insufferable.

I knew I shouldn’t cry; tears would only make this moment more humiliating, but they came anyway. After my father’s death, Easton had been my everything, my anchor in a storm. Now, all of it was slipping through my fingers.

As I packed my things, I found that the box wasn’t big enough to hold all the pieces of my life. In a fit of frustration, I tossed our photo aside.

Easton stepped forward, his hands trembling as he gently took the box from me.

"Breigh," he said softly, as though trying to soothe a tantrum. "When you’ve calmed down, we can talk."

His words were like a balloon pricked with a needle: helpless, empty, and useless. I felt a rush of frustration, a helplessness that made it hard to breathe.

In the end, I walked out, my eyes fixed on Cora’s smug face. I took in her expression for one last time, then turned to her with a smile as cold as ice.

"Miss Buckingham," I said, my voice dripping with venom. "You like playing with this ceramic bunny, don’t you? Take it. It’s just cheap street market stuff, not worth a dime. It’s like second-hand goods. I never cared for it. But I’m sure you’ll treat it like a treasure."

I left it all behind, the things I didn’t want, including this thin, suffocating sky.

A month passed, and I gave up the chance to stay and work in Lancashire, but still, the divorce papers remained unsigned. After the thirty-day waiting period, Easton never took action.

I heard the news one day Easton was in a car accident, the same day I’d made my decision to leave. My colleagues whispered about his rush to verify a list for staying in Lancashire.

I couldn’t bring myself to care why he’d been in such a hurry.

Maybe he feared I would stay. Or maybe he was afraid Cora wouldn’t.

When I saw Cora’s name on that list, something inside me twisted painfully.

Three days later, my old colleagues planned a visit to the hospital to see Easton. I went along, though I had no desire to see them together. But when I arrived, there they were, Cora, feeding him fruit and laughing as if nothing had ever happened between us.

The sight left a bitter taste in my mouth, sadness pressing down on my chest. I couldn’t bring myself to go in and see him, not like that. So, I lingered at the door, trapped in the shadows of my own emotions.

The next day, I boarded a plane, bound for another chapter in my life.

I was headed to the University of Lancaster to study; my flight had been booked a month in advance.