Chapter 2

The smile froze on Mr. Wallace's face. After a moment, he stammered an apology:

"I'm sorry, Mia. I didn't mean to bring up something painful."

"But... why divorce?"

He frowned, habitually adopting the tone he used to counsel students:

"Marriage is a serious matter. It's not easy for two people to be together. If there are problems that can be resolved, you should try to work through them. Don't act rashly out of anger..."

"I'm not acting out of anger."

I smiled at him, my voice just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear.

"His heart belongs to someone else. There's no point. Might as well end it." I smiled.

Mr. Wallace's words caught in his throat. He nodded awkwardly:

"Well... I suppose you should divorce then..."

Madison rested her head on Evan's shoulder, her smile unchanged:

"Oh, I see. I thought it was..."

"Thought what?"

The athletics rep, drunk, instinctively probed.

Madison glanced at me with an ambiguous look, mumbling:

"Nothing, just thought Mia was still being delusional..."

Delusional.

That had been the entire class's unanimous assessment of me throughout high school.

Because I was just an ordinary girl—ordinary family background, ordinary grades, ordinary looks—yet I delusionally liked Evan Pierce.

Meanwhile, the genius student and the gentle school beauty were everyone's ideal couple.

I wasn't as pretty as Madison, so I didn't deserve to like Evan.

So even though Evan and I had known each other since childhood.

Even though Evan had allowed me to stay by his side.

Even though back then, Madison and Evan weren't together—I was Evan's actual girlfriend.

None of that mattered. They all thought I was delusional.

And Evan remained the same as always.

Eyes on his nose, nose on his heart.

Too lazy to even say "Mia is my girlfriend."

"Come on, let's not bring up the past. Mia's already married," the class president coughed lightly, changing the subject. "Mia, good men are everywhere. I know a few suitable guys. Give me your phone—I'll introduce you."

The class president moved closer with enthusiasm.

"Enough—"

Evan suddenly kicked the table, a smile on his lips:

"She's not officially divorced yet. Wait until then."

"Evan's right. Wait until she's divorced."

"What if her husband finds out and comes after you? Haha."

Everyone joined in the teasing.

The class president caught on and downed a drink as self-punishment.

"Alright, alright, my bad. Mia, just let me know when you need help. We're all old classmates—don't be shy."

I murmured agreement with a smile.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Madison take out hand cream and say something to Evan.

Evan's eyes crinkled as he squeezed a thick dollop onto his own hands.

The scent was strong—I could smell the gardenia fragrance even from across the table.

The old Evan hated artificial fragrances.

Because of this, in all our years of marriage, I never used hand cream, and even carefully selected unscented body wash.

Turns out he didn't hate fragrances.

He just didn't like me using them.