I had supported Lauren Geller through seven years of competitive cycling.

After she defended her championship title, I handed her the divorce papers myself.

Her shining career ended there and then.

I had been able to carry her to the summit, and I could just as easily lift someone else in her place.

It was not until I appeared before her with my girlfriend that she finally understood.

It had never been Lauren who abandoned me; I was the one who chose to walk away.

When I stepped out of the elevator, I happened to see the news that Lauren Geller had won the championship.

A few hours earlier, Sean Tanner’s private account had posted an update:

[Accompanying my friend to the peak. Our love has reached a new height!]

The attached picture was of a deliberately blurred gold medal and a pair of interlocked hands.

I recognized at once that the smaller hand belonged to Lauren.

I felt nothing because the finalized divorce agreement was already sitting in my bag.

When I entered the apartment, several road bikes were parked in the entryway.

I walked around them and realized that not only had Lauren returned, but Sean and two other teammates were there as well.

The laughter stopped the moment they saw me.

Lauren frowned at me.

“Where did you go? You didn’t answer your phone. Didn’t I say I was coming back?”

I kicked off my cycling shoes and slipped into my slippers.

“I went to the gym.”

“You should have told me anyway. I called twice.”

She turned toward the living room, irritation clear in her voice.

“Wanda and the others are here for a meal. Make us a platter, will you?”

In the past, Lauren often brought fellow cyclists home to eat every few days.

To help her build good relationships with her teammates, I had always cooked everything myself and cleaned up every scrap afterward.

Now it had somehow become a given.

Did she think cooking was so effortless?

Hiring a chef for one meal would have cost hundreds.

“I had back-to-back training, so I’m too tired to cook. Order some takeout.”

Then I sat down at the dining table and opened my packed meal.

“What’s wrong with you?” Lauren asked as she leaned over, her hand reaching out to touch me.

I slapped her hand away.

“Don’t disturb me while I’m eating.”

“Then I’ll do it,” Sean said, sensing the tension, as he headed into the kitchen.

“Oh my, that’s far too much trouble for you, Sean,” Lauren said at once as she leaned against the doorway.

Sean stared blankly at the contents of the fridge.

“Sea cucumber, steak…”

As he took out eggs and steak, he laughed at Lauren.

“Is this all your husband feeds you? Even street food is better than this!”

The comment was humiliating to someone like me, who had managed Lauren’s meals and daily care full-time.

Lauren glanced at me, clearly noticing my displeasure, yet she still turned back to joke with him.

“That’s right. You all say Owen is such a perfect house husband, but he’s actually really fierce.

“He forces me to eat healthy food every day,” she explained with a laugh.

She had long grown accustomed to my silence.

Seeing the change in my expression, Wanda quickly stepped forward to change the subject.

“You have such a caring husband, and yet you complain so much? Don’t you know how lucky you are?

“Hurry up and cook, I’m about to starve.”

Lauren’s teammates crowded into the kitchen in a burst of noisy excitement.

I finished my meal in a few quick bites and went alone into the study.

Despite the name, it was closer to a workshop.

Inside were Lauren’s cycling gear, along with numerous figurines and 3D-printed models.

Every time we managed to save several thousand, she would pick up a new hobby.

Over time, the entire place filled up with her things.

Aside from a few practical household items, there was hardly any trace of me in the apartment.

To outsiders, she could chat effortlessly about anything.

In Hightide City’s cycling circles, it was widely rumored that Lauren came from a wealthy family and had expensive tastes.

But before she turned professional, most of the household income had been supported by my studio.

After a while, the faint smell of something burning drifted in through the crack under the door.

I heard Sean’s shrill yelp mixed with laughter, and moments later, Lauren pushed the door open and walked in.

“Sean doesn’t know how to pan-fry your steak. Go fix it.”

“I’m not going. I have work,” I said coldly.

She came closer and frowned at the computer screen.

“What are you doing? All the tools at home are gone—are you trying to make something?”

Impatience had crept into her voice.

“I told you a long time ago, just focus on taking care of me. You can work all day with your head down, and it still won’t compare to how much I make from just one ad.”

Noticing my mood, Lauren softened her tone slightly.

“What’s wrong? Are you tired?”

I brushed her hand off my shoulder.

“Go out and have fun with them.”

That was the end of her patience.

“What’s your problem?” she raised her voice.

“I work myself to exhaustion cycling every day. I come home and don’t even get a hot meal.

“I just won the championship, and you’re giving me attitude?”

Her shouting stunned me.

“Lauren, yesterday was my thirtieth birthday.”

She fell silent at once, panic flickering in her eyes.

“I—I forgot.”

I grew quiet.

It was fine. I was already used to it.

Used to her apologies after every outburst, used to her forgetting—again and again—everything we had once carefully written down and sworn to remember.

In truth, I had not been angry that Lauren forgot my birthday.

I had stopped loving her long ago, and I no longer expected anything from her.

I was only angry at that foolish version of myself who had given seven years of my life away.

Endless housework, a chaotic workspace, cups and plates left behind by worthless friends, a wife who abandoned her bike and slept soundly through it all…

I endured it.

Being summoned and scolded on a whim, a lonely and monotonous life…

I endured that too.

Because of love, I had become the very kind of person I never wanted to be before marriage.

Everyone praised me for being good.

I truly had been too good and far too foolish.

Under my care, Lauren had grown into a confident adult-sized infant.

Did she really believe that all the glory she took pride in had been earned by herself alone?

Without me by her side, handling every race and every commercial engagement, how could she have advanced without distraction as she had?

I grieved for those seven years I had thrown away.

Lauren tried to placate me. I pushed her hand aside and handed her a folder.

“What is this?” She opened it, and her face changed instantly.

“You want to divorce me?”

She let the divorce agreement fall to the floor.

Perhaps my silence in the past had been cowardice, but today, my calm was clarity.

“We’ve been married for seven years. Life keeps getting better, and yet you want a divorce?”

She pointed at me, just as she had done countless times over the years.

“Are our lives better?” I asked calmly.

“You’re the one going anywhere. I’ve been your obedient lapdog for seven years straight.”

I questioned her evenly, as if she had just made the greatest joke.

“You don’t have to work. You don’t have to fight your way through the workplace. You just do housework. And what do you mean by “lapdog”?”

A smug look spread openly across her face.

“I’ve already defended my championship title. Do you know how high my commercial value is?

“If you divorce me now, you won’t get anything.”

I looked into her eyes and could no longer find the girl I once cherished.

“Lauren, I didn’t care about money when I married you, and I don’t care now.”

“Lauren! Come have something to eat,” Sean’s voice called from outside the door, and both of us fell silent.

Not putting our mess on display for outsiders was the last unspoken understanding we shared.

“Don’t act on impulse, Owen. Let’s talk properly tonight,” Lauren said, as if she had recovered a measure of reason, her tone softening.

“I’m going to eat. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow for your birthday.”

With that, she left.

When the door opened, I saw her tilt her head and smile up at Sean, two small dimples appearing on her cheeks.

My phone chimed with a new message.

I tapped on an avatar made up of a simple symbol.

Beneath the birthday wishes and cake photo I had sent the night before, there was now a reply.

[Thank you. Wishing you happiness too.]

I smiled, did not respond, and instead opened my social feed, replaying a video of a doctoral graduation ceremony again and again.

By the time I left the study, everyone had already left.

Sean, however, was still sitting in the living room.

“Owen,” Sean said.

He had never addressed me the way the others did.

So casual. So careless.

“The dorm has a curfew. Could you let me stay the night?”

I glanced at Lauren, who looked lifeless on the couch.

She waved her hand dismissively.

“Why even ask? If you don’t sleep here, where would you go?”

Sean immediately stood up and twisted open the door to the guest bedroom.

After opening it, he exclaimed, “Is all this prepared just for me? Aww, Lauren, you’re so good to me!”

Lauren froze for a moment, then turned to me and said awkwardly, “That’s where Owen sleeps.”

“Bro what?” Sean shouted exaggeratedly. “You and Owen don’t sleep together?”

He seemed completely unaware that this was deeply private.

A flicker of discomfort crossed Lauren’s face.

I walked over and smiled as I explained.

“She cycles from five in the morning until ten at night every day. I can’t handle that schedule.”

That was only one reason.

Using exhaustion from training as an excuse, Lauren had avoided intimacy with me for two years.

At first, I had argued.

Later, I went numb.

“Sorry, there aren’t any spare rooms left. You should stay at a hotel,” I said, closing the guest bedroom door casually and denying him any glimpse of my room.

Lauren hurriedly added, “It’s fine. It’s dangerous for him to stay alone in a hotel. Let him sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

I lowered my gaze and said nothing.

On the nights she competed out of town, I had handled her logistics and booked separate rooms myself so she could rest well.

She had never once worried about me.

Seeing my expression change, Sean quickly jumped in.

“I’m kidding. I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s just one night.”

It was clear Lauren felt sorry for him, but she didn’t dare go too far.

That night, I went to bed first.

Lauren and Sean were laughing about something in the living room.

She seemed to have already forgotten about the divorce.

I wasn’t in a hurry.

I opened a secondhand marketplace app and browsed.

The road bike Lauren had bought me had already sold for six thousand dollars.

I immediately searched for another user’s ID and placed an order on her page for a secondhand bag.

Exactly six thousand dollars.

“Owen? Are you awake?”

My phone showed 1 a.m., and Lauren was quietly calling me from outside the door.

I didn’t respond.

Assuming I was asleep, she turned toward the sofa.

I pulled out my phone and checked the surveillance app.

In the living room, Sean had wrapped his arms around Lauren.

She bent down to kiss him, and they collapsed onto the sofa.

They were like two wild dogs.

Absolutely disgusting.

After my cat, Nugget, had a bout of indigestion six months ago, I installed a hidden camera in the living room to keep an eye on him.

Lauren never liked hearing about trivial things, so I hadn’t told her.

Two months ago, I had casually reviewed the footage and discovered her kissing Sean in our home, on the very rug I had personally chosen.

I hadn’t slept a wink that night.

I traced the timeline of their relationship.

Three months.

They had been doing all this behind my back while I went out for groceries, cooked, or delivered their bikes for cleaning.

I felt no sadness, no anger. Only one thing: Dirty.

So dirty.

Watching them become more intimate, I floated silently out of bed and flung open the bedroom door.

I do not exaggerate. Sean practically sprang off the sofa.

“Bro! Why are you up?”

He looked flustered as he tugged at the front of his pajama pants.

Lauren was a little worse for wear.

Her clothes were stripped, and now she was wrapped in a blanket.

Her eyes were pink at the corners.

I walked silently toward the study, and Lauren panicked.

“Listen, I drank too much. I thought you were sleeping…”

I ignored her and tossed the folder from the desk back in front of her.

“Don’t make me sick. Sign it.”

Seeing she couldn’t talk her way out, Lauren’s expression changed.

“It was only one time! You’re discarding all these years of our relationship?”

I sneered.

“Seven years for one moment? Do you think I was born yesterday?”

Lauren tried to deny it, but I cut her off.

.

“How many times has it been? You know. Not even the rest of your life could repay it.”

She had no defense.

I still held in my hands many files related to her career, so she dared not contradict me.

Glancing at the agreement, Lauren finally shouted, “Why should the house be yours? My name’s on it too! I demand half!”

Sean, originally seated on the sofa, perked up.

Hearing talk of splitting assets, he no longer pretended innocence and leaned forward.

“Owen, you two are just living together now. Since your relationship is broken, split it fifty-fifty.”

He no longer called me ‘bro’.

Ambition flickered openly in his eyes.

Hightide City’s real estate was very expensive.

If the house sales were divided, Lauren could pocket two and a half million!

A tempting figure, but I wouldn’t let her have it cheaply.

“This house is mine. You didn’t contribute a single penny.”

I smiled, watching a flash of panic cross her pretty face.

When we married, Lauren had nothing.

Her monthly salary was eight hundred dollars.

I hadn’t held a wedding, and I even added her name to the house I owned.

To this day, she boasted about this past, painting it as our “fairy-tale love.”

Now we had gone from nothing to a clean break.

Lauren’s expression twitched with anger, but she did not argue.

“It’s fine, Lauren. I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

Sean whispered provocatively in her ear, scattering her already fragile heart.

“Tomorrow, we’ll file for divorce!”

Lauren signed and tossed the papers at me.

“Fine.”

I put the agreement away carefully.

“Three days. Move everything out of this apartment in three days.”

“Three days?” Lauren jumped.

“So much stuff—how can I possibly move it all?”

“Don’t you have plenty of cycling teammates?” I crossed my arms and turned back to my room.

“I’m just issuing the notice. Penalties for delay are on you.”