On the day of our wedding, I went to my fiancée's house to bring her to the venue—only to find her at her ex-boyfriend's wedding.

When I confronted her, she didn't even blink.

"Having a wedding with me is Keith's obsession. It's just a sham. I'm only putting on a dress to go through the motions with him. We're doing the ceremony. It's not like we're actually going to sleep together. What are you so worked up about?"

I didn't argue with her anymore. I chose to respect her decision.

So I called the childhood friend who had secretly loved me for years.

"I'm ready to marry you now."

But when she saw me marrying that childhood friend, she completely lost it—like a woman possessed. She insisted on marrying me instead, demanding to know why I had chosen someone else.

The wedding was underway. My fiancée, Diane Anderson, stood at the altar, hand in hand with another man, taking vows.

The officiant asked her, "Do you take Keith Brady as your husband?"

Diane's voice was unwavering. "I do!"

Watching them so blissfully in love felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

The scene I had dreamed of for years—the one I longed to create—another man could conjure effortlessly.

Seven years. Seven times I had knelt before Diane, proposing, and seven times she had rejected me.

Through all my persistence, her response had always been a cold, dismissive laugh before changing the subject. My endless tolerance and patience only fueled her pride.

In her eyes, agreeing to marry me had been a favor already. Who was I to question her?

I loved her so deeply, so completely, that I had lost all sense of self. Even if she truly slept with Keith, I probably would have smiled and forgiven her, taking her back home.

But she had forgotten her own words. "Jerry, no matter how many times I reject you, in the end, I will only marry you. I will only ever wear a wedding dress for you."

On the large screen behind the stage, moments of her and Keith's sweetness played for everyone to see.

Clearly, even if this was the first time she had worn a wedding dress for him, it wouldn't be the first time she'd slept with him.

My mind went blank, a sudden clarity piercing through me.

She didn't not want to marry—she just didn't want to marry me.

I watched their ceremony conclude, my heart sinking as I prepared to leave.

Then Diane grabbed my arm.

"Jerry… Keith and I are just playing pretend. The wedding is only to fulfill one of his wishes."

For once, I didn't press her for more. Instead, I remained calm.

"Then carry on with the act. Next step—make a baby."

Her face darkened. Impatience crept into her voice.

"Jerry, I've been nothing but patient explaining all this to you. Why are you being so sarcastic? Look at yourself! You don't have an ounce of grace left. What kind of man are you, anyway?"

She turned the accusation back on me, then hurried to toast Keith.

In the past, I would have dropped to my knees to appease her anger. But now, watching their figures together, I felt only chill and emptiness.

Seven years. Seven years of pouring my heart and soul into her, waiting relentlessly for her to come back to me. And in the end, she only ever saw me as a lovesick fool.

Why should I let her continue to trample me?

…

The next day, the moment I arrived at the hospital, I received a notice of suspension.

There was no doubt—this was Diane working behind the scenes, trying to manipulate me once again.

The position of lead surgeon had been earned through my own hard work. To say it didn't sting would be a lie. Yet, there was nothing to do but obey the hospital's decision.

Colleagues cast sympathetic glances my way. I smiled. "I'm fine."

Suspension and dismissal were practically the same. But sooner or later, I had planned to leave anyway.

I had just finished the paperwork when Keith appeared before me.

So this was her game all along—pushing me aside just to give him a respectable position.

"Jerry, the wedding night completely exhausted me. I'm not familiar with this place, and the director said you should help me deliver this to HR."

The director had once shown me trust and recognition—I couldn't refuse. I had no choice but to run the errand.

But when I returned after finishing the paperwork, I found the banners in my office—symbols of gratitude from patients I had painstakingly treated—thrown to the ground, scuffed with footprints. Each one carried immeasurable meaning to me.

And there was Keith, lounging in my chair, feet propped on the desk, with my staff reports under his heels, looking at me with complete indifference.

"Jerry," he said casually, "I'll be working here from now on. It's better if these trivial things disappear."

Rage ignited in me instantly. I stormed forward and yanked him up by his collar.

"How dare you touch my things!" I roared.

And he—he actually grinned.

"If I can touch even Diane, what are these things to me?"

My teeth clenched with fury. I swung my fist straight at his face.

Keith collapsed to the floor, howling in pain. His sudden change left me momentarily stunned.

Then, the sharp click of heels announced her arrival. Diane stormed toward us, face blazing with anger.

Now I understood why Keith had shifted so abruptly just moments before.

Diane's hand struck my face without a shred of mercy.

"Jerry, you've gone too far!"

She bent down, soothing Keith while signaling someone to fetch a first-aid kit.

"Diane, don't be angry. Jerry didn't mean to hurt me," he said, his words a calculated provocation.

Her gaze on me grew even colder, her anger barely restrained.

"Keith's been overworked these past two days; his body is exhausted. Were you planning to kill him over a simple personnel change? For a position transfer, you strike like a madman! Jerry, you're such a petty, dark-hearted man—I can't even stand to look at you!"

Each word pierced me like a thousand needles, leaving me wounded and furious.

I could accept her choice. I could accept a job reassignment. I could even accept that she had never loved me. But I could not accept being misunderstood.

Seven years together. Countless nights I had given her my heart. Even if she could never love me, she should have understood my character. And yet, once again, I was humiliated. In front of Keith, I was nothing more than a lowly fool, trampled at will.

"You think staying silent will make this go away? Apologize!" she barked, as if scolding a dog.

"Why should I? Even if he had died, he would've deserved it!"

Diane's teeth ground together. She slapped me again.

"I must have been blind to marry a man so narrow-minded! Apologize! Or we're getting a divorce!"

She had once agreed to my proposal. Afraid that waiting too long would cause problems, I had begged her until she consented to register our marriage before holding the ceremony.

So divorce—that was Diane's final card.

I had once been terrified of losing her, unable to imagine my life without her. Time and again, I lowered my standards, compromised, and gave in to her.

But now it was different. My heart was broken beyond repair.

"Fine," I said. "We'll see each other at the courthouse for the divorce."

Diane's face flickered with uncertainty.

"Don't think I'm joking!"

I kept my expression solemn, my tone icy.

"I'm not joking either."

Diane stared at me in disbelief.

Keith, holding his injured face, wore a smug, triumphant grin.

"Diane, didn't you regret marrying him in the first place? Now, he's willing to divorce. What are you hesitating for?"

Diane said nothing, her gaze fixed on me, her expression dark and stormy.

"I'll give you two days to think it over," he continued coldly. "Don't come crying and begging me on your knees later. I've seen enough of that."

With that, she helped Keith out and left.

I picked up the scattered banners and gathered my things. Once I stepped out of the hospital, I went straight to my childhood friend's law firm.

"I want a divorce!" I declared.

"I always knew people who choose marriage rarely end up happy." Audrey handed me a glass of water, a wry smile on her face.

We had grown up next door to each other and were practically childhood friends, though she had always been disillusioned with love.

She was talented, beautiful, and pursued by many—but perhaps because of that, she remained single.

Recently, she mentioned wanting a wedding, just to fulfill her dream of wearing a wedding dress. But no one was willing to go through a fake marriage with her, so she had turned to me.

After a few earnest requests, she admitted I fit her ideal type.

In the past, I had stubbornly held onto Diane. Now, helping Audrey felt easy, almost right.

Once Audrey had handled the divorce paperwork for me, I went home.

Diane appeared from the kitchen, apron tied, and the dining table was filled with all my favorite dishes.

"Wash up. Dinner's ready."

"I'm not hungry. Eat yourself," I replied coldly, heading toward my room.

She grabbed my arm.

"Jerry, don't act so high and mighty. I was just helping Keith fulfill a little wish. How long are you going to keep causing trouble?"

Her face twisted with anger, every word dripping with fury. I knew reasoning with her in this state was useless. I wrenched my arm free and walked into the room without a word.

To my surprise, Diane followed immediately. Her eyes blazed, her anger intensified by my indifference.

"According to Keith's family's custom, there's another ceremony three days from now. Once that's over, we'll continue with our wedding. You can still be the lead surgeon. Still not satisfied?"

I said calmly, emotionless, "I don't care. The divorce agreement is ready. Just sign it."

Her eyes went blood-red, and she spat, "Fine. This is all your own doing. Remember—there's no cure for regret in this world!"

With that, she slammed the door and left.

She didn't show up for several days. I sent her the divorce agreement prepared by Audrey, but there was no response.

Three days later, my phone lit up with her call.

"There's a dinner party at the hospital tonight. Come."

I was about to refuse, but she hung up immediately and sent a location shortly after.

Seeing the divorce agreement's female signature still blank, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to get it signed.

…

I followed the navigation to the place Diane had chosen.

Inside, she and Keith sat side by side, laughing and chatting like a genuinely happy newlywed couple.

Most of the guests were Diane's subordinates and friends.

When they noticed me standing at the door, their eyes filled with disdain and condescension.

But I had already let go of it all. I no longer cared.