Chapter 3

Daniel didn't come home all night.

My pillow was soaked, my eyes dry and stinging.

I slowly sat up, gazing out at the gray dawn sky.

My whole being felt desolate.

I sat on the bed in a daze for a long time, then walked to the wardrobe and pulled open the bottom drawer. Inside were some of his old things.

A photo album, a few letters, and a property deed.

I used to never look through these. I believed there should be a basic level of trust and respect between husband and wife.

But now, I just wanted to find an answer for myself.

I opened the yellowed letters.

They were love letters Daniel had written to Stella, every word filled with genuine affection.

I closed the letters, feeling an indescribable mix of emotions.

No jealousy, no anger, just a deep weariness that came from the bottom of my heart.

Suddenly, I remembered many details I had ignored.

The extraordinary enthusiasm Daniel showed when Stella first moved in.

He proactively went to help her, introduced her to the neighborhood, acting with an eagerness completely unlike his usual self.

Stella's daughter naturally called him "Uncle Daniel," and then, unconsciously, it became "Daddy Daniel."

Daniel never corrected her; in fact, he seemed to enjoy it.

Yet, when Lily was alive, he rarely had the patience to play with her for more than half an hour.

He *could* be gentle and patient, just never with my daughter and me.

Daniel and I were childhood sweethearts.

Growing up, Daniel was the object of adoration for all the kids around us, someone who radiated charisma in any crowd.

To marry him was something I never dared to dream of.

He sat across from me, smiling distantly, and finally said,

"My parents really like you, and I think you're pretty good too. So, let's give it a try."

I thought my long, secret crush had finally found its perfect ending.

Ten years of marriage, and I'd been like a furiously spinning top, toiling tirelessly for the family.

No one appreciated my hard work, no one cared if I was tired.

They only said,

"Amelia is so capable."

Stella had said it too:

"Amelia, you're just too capable. You can do anything. Not like me, I panic at the slightest thing."

I smiled, saying nothing.

All that 'capability' was merely forced out of me by his indifference.

No one is born knowing everything.

Stella didn't know because she was pampered; even after her husband died, she still had Daniel.

Just then, the door opened.

Daniel was back. He walked in, calling out,

"Amelia, Lucy had a high fever last night…"

Not seeing me in the living room, he paused mid-sentence and found his way to the bedroom.

Seeing my swollen, red eyes, he embraced me with a look of concern.

"Amelia, are you not feeling well?"

I didn't answer, stating calmly,

"Daniel Miller, yesterday's divorce—I was serious."

His concern vanished instantly, replaced by impatience.

"Reason?"

I looked at him.

"Because of these ten years. Daniel Miller, I married you, and I never once truly experienced love. Instead, I earned a pair of calloused hands."

I held out my palms. The rough, thick calluses, left by years of constant labor, were starkly visible in the bright light.

"For these ten years, I've toiled thanklessly, serving your whole family. But now, I'm tired. I don't want this anymore."

These words completely enraged Daniel.

"Amelia Stone, have I ever mistreated you since we got married? Everything you eat, wear, and use – didn't I provide it all?"

"You don't have to deal with the stress of a job like I do; you just get to be a 'lady of leisure' at home every day! You're still not satisfied with this good life?!"

"I'm telling you, don't even *think* about divorce!"

A sharp pain shot through my wrist. I struggled to break free, and with too much force, I stumbled backward.

"Daniel Miller, do you think I'm asking for your permission?"

I looked at him coldly.

"Let me tell you! Whether you agree or not, I'm divorcing you!"

With that, I dragged a dusty suitcase from the wardrobe and started packing my things.

In less than ten minutes, I had packed everything I owned.

I didn't want these old items to stir any painful emotions.

The heartless Daniel had truly never given me a single gift.

I carried my suitcase to the door. Daniel followed me.

He frowned deeply.

"Amelia Stone, you don't even have money for a lawyer, and you're dreaming of divorce?"

I gave a self-deprecating laugh.

He was right. Ten years of marriage, and my personal bank balance had never exceeded three digits.

What had this seemingly 'perfect' marriage, in the eyes of outsiders, truly given me?

I met his gaze, my eyes filled with cold indifference.

"Daniel Miller, don't trouble yourself worrying about my lawyer.

"Whether I have money or not, you'll find out after the divorce."