The faint sound of running water echoed from the bathroom; Vance Bradford was taking a shower. It was three in the morning, and he had just returned home. Rebecca Perry stood at the bathroom door, her heart pounding. There was something she wanted to discuss with him, but she felt nervous, unsure if he would agree once he heard it. As she pondered how to broach the subject, a strange noise came from inside. She listened closely and realized he was pleasuring himself. The heavy breaths and muffled gr0ans struck her like hammers, pounding relentlessly at her chest. Bitterness surged through her like a tidal wave, leaving her gasping for air, drowning in agony. Today marked their fifth wedding anniversary, yet they had never consummated their marriage. So, this was why. He'd rather take care of himself than touch her. His breathing grew more frantic, and suddenly, in a moment of intense release, he gr0aned lowly, "Catherine..." That name delivered the final, crushing blow. Something inside her shattered into dust. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs and turned to flee, but in her haste, she stumbled, crashing into the sink and tumbling to the floor. "Rebecca, is that you?" Vance's voice, still ragged from exertion, carried a note of forced composure, though his breathing remained heavy. "I-I needed the bathroom. I didn't know you were showering," she stammered, desperately grabbing the sink to pull herself up. But in her panic, she made things worse. Water slicked the floor and countertop, making it impossible to find her footing. She finally managed to stand just as Vance emerged. His white bathrobe was hastily thrown on, the belt cinched tightly around his waist. "Did you fall? Let me help you," he said, reaching out to lift her. Tears brimmed in her eyes from the pain, but she pushed his hand away, stubborn and resolute. "No need. I can manage myself." She steadied herself but nearly slipped again. Limping awkwardly, she fled back to the bedroom—a hasty escape from the awkward scene. For five years, she had been hiding from the outside world, from the judgmental stares, and from Vance's sympathy. She was ashamed of her condition, though she used to have strong, beautiful legs before the accident. She always felt inferior. A cripple like her didn't deserve someone as accomplished and luminous as Vance Bradford. Vance followed her, his tone gentle and concerned. "Does it hurt? Let me check." "It's nothing." She burrowed under the covers, hiding her embarrassment along with her body. "Are you sure?" His worry seemed genuine. "Yeah." She nodded, showing her back to him. "Then get some sleep. Don't you want to use the bathroom anymore?" "Nope, let's just rest." "Alright. Oh, it's our anniversary today. I got you a gift. Open it tomorrow and see if you like it." "Okay." The gift sat on the nightstand; she had already spotted it. She didn't need to unwrap it to know what was inside. Every year, it was the same-sized box containing an identical watch. Her drawer already held nine of them, including birthday gifts. This would be the tenth. The conversation ended. Vance switched off the light and lay down. The air was filled with the damp, fresh scent of his shower gel, but she barely felt the mattress dip under his weight. The bed was giant, but they lay far apart, each on one edge. The space between them could fit three more people. As if by tacit understanding, neither of them mentioned Catherine Welch or what had transpired in the bathroom. Rebecca lay rigid on her back, her eyes stinging fiercely. Catherine was Vance's college classmate, his first love, and his goddess. After graduation, she had gone abroad, leading to their breakup and his depression. He had spiraled into despair, drinking heavily every day. Rebecca and Vance, however, were classmates in high school. She had harbored a secret crush on him back then. He was the campus heartthrob and an aloof, top student, while she spent most of her time in a dance studio far from the spotlight. She was pretty enough, but she was quiet, never one to stand at the center of things, and in a school full of confident, outspoken girls, she was easy to overlook. So, her feelings had remained her private secret; she never dreamed of approaching him. That changed after she graduated from the dance academy and returned home for summer break, encountering him in his broken state. He was heavily drunk that night, weaving erratically down the street. As he crossed the road without checking the lights, a car barreled toward him, unable to brake in time. She had been trailing him out of concern and shoved him aside—just in time for the car to strike her instead. At that time, she had secured a spot in graduate school, but the accident left her crippled. She could never dance again. Afterward, he quit drinking and married her. He remained forever indebted, forever grateful, soft-spoken and distant. He showered her with gifts and money, but never with love. She had believed time could heal everything and soften the edges of her pain. Yet after five years, he still clung to Catherine so deeply that even in his most private moments, it was her name he uttered. She had been fool and naïve. She lay awake all night, checking an email on her phone over a hundred times. It was an offer from a foreign university for graduate studies—the very thing she had planned to discuss with him that evening. But now, there was no need to consult him. Their five-year marriage, filled with countless sleepless nights, could finally begin its countdown. When he rose in the morning, she feigned sleep, overhearing him speak to the housekeeper, Nancy. "I have a business dinner tonight. Tell Rebecca not to wait up; she should rest early." After his instructions, he returned to the bedroom to check on her. She hid under the covers, her pillow soaked with tears. Normally, she would prepare his outfit for work, laying it out neatly. But not today. He dressed himself in the walk-in closet and left for the office. Only then did she open her eyes, feeling them swollen and sore. Her phone alarm buzzed—the daily reminder she had set for herself to study. Since the marriage, her leg had confined her to the house most of the time. To pass the endless hours, she divided her days into segments, filling each with small tasks. She silenced the alarm and mindlessly scrolled through apps. Her mind was a jumble, unable to focus on anything, until she saw a familiar face in a video. It was posted just the night before, and the account name was Cathy W. The algorithm was really uncanny, delivering this right before her eyes. Rebecca tapped on the video, and lively music played, followed by voices shouting, "Three, two, one! Welcome back, Catherine! Cheers!" One voice stood out—Vance's. Chapter 2 Vance had broken his no-drinking rule. He was obviously drunk, or else he wouldn't have shouted like that. In Rebecca's memories, Vance in high school was the aloof genius, always focused on his studies. Once, a girl who admired him had offered him water on the sports field, but he had ignored her. As her husband, he was polite and emotionally steady, never laughing heartily or showing anger. He was so calm, so detached that even brushing his fingers felt cool. The video panned across faces, capturing a flushed Vance. His eyes were sparkling as he raised his glass with a broad smile. "Welcome home, Cathy." So, he could laugh, be passionate, and use intimate nicknames. He just didn't do that to Rebecca. He never smiled at her, never showed passion, and never called her by her nickname. Nancy's voice came from outside, interrupting her thoughts. "Madam, are you up yet?" Rebecca's daily routine was predictable. When there was no response, Nancy worried she might need help, especially considering her leg injury. Rebecca set her phone aside, her voice hoarse. "Coming out soon." Nancy made sandwiches for breakfast, but Rebecca managed only one bite before losing her appetite. Nancy handed her a glass of milk. "Madam, what would you like for lunch and dinner?" "Anything, I guess," Rebecca started, then swallowed her usual response of making whatever Vance liked. But Nancy understood the implication. That was just the same daily conversation. "Mr. Bradford said he won't be home for dinner. He has a commitment." Rebecca nodded, having seen the list in that post. Catherine had scheduled a week's worth of dinners, listing who was treating and what she craved. [The most genuine friendships from the student days. I'm so lucky to have so many boys pampering me.] Normally, Rebecca's day involved two hours of French study and several more on art theory. Without something to occupy her, how could she endure the endless waiting for Vance to come home? She had waited before... The ache of it was unbearable. Now her plans were different. This offer was likely the university's final round of admissions; she needed to confirm quickly. Her first task was to pay the confirmation fee. When the bank notification popped up, she exhaled in relief. It was another step closer to leaving Vance. That evening, she changed her clothes and prepared to go out. Nancy asked wonderingly, "Madam, where are you going?" Without Vance, Rebecca hardly ever left the house. "Oh, a college friend is performing nearby and invited me to meet," she lied. In truth, she was heading to a hotel near the exam center. She'd have the French Proficiency test tomorrow, and it was scheduled for the morning. Rushing there risked traffic delays. Her previous attempt months ago hadn't met her target score, but with application deadlines looming, she had submitted anyway. Surprisingly admitted, she could now supplement her scores. That was thanks to the school allowing post-admission updates. "But..." Nancy hesitated, eyeing her leg. "Should I accompany you?" Rebecca kept her expression neutral. "No need. It's a girls' night; an extra person would be awkward." Nancy fretted over potential mishaps. "Then I'll let Mr. Bradford know." "No, let him focus on his evening. I'll call him after and have him pick me up." Rebecca grabbed her bag and left. Considering her mobility, Vance had chosen a spacious flat for their home. She took the elevator down and stepped outside. The sunlight made her instinctively lower her head, hunch her shoulders, and pull on a hat, raising her collar. Since her injury, the once-confident dancer who thrived on stage had vanished. Crippled, she had lost the courage to face the public eye. Nancy often advised outings only with Vance, and the man always suggested Rebecca stay at home. They didn't understand. Outings with Vance terrified her more. It was even worse than going out alone. Every glance screamed, "Why does such an outstanding man have a cripple as his wife?" Rebecca hailed a cab to the hotel. En route, gazing at the passing scenery, she spotted Vance's car parked on the roadside. "Could you stop here, please?" she said to the driver. His car was outside a restaurant, which reminded her of Catherine's post. Yesterday, one of his friends had hosted that gathering, and today it was his turn. On impulse, she got out and entered the restaurant. At the reception desk, she said, "I'm here to join Mr. Vance Bradford." She gave his phone number, and a waiter led her to the private room. "This is the one." "Thank you," she said, though she didn't really know why she had come. Earlier, impulse had driven her; now, at the door, her courage faltered. She didn't even dare to open it. Lively chatter emanated from inside. "I can't stay late or drink tonight. Got chewed out by my wife last night," said a guy. "Come on. You said friends come first, even over the king. Now you're henpecked? Guess Vance is the real man here," Catherine protested, her voice soft and coquettish. So, that was her personality. Vance liked that type. Too bad Rebecca was nothing like that, not even close. She couldn't even fake it. The guy whined, "Vance is different. Rebecca wouldn't dare to complain." "By the way," Catherine chimed in, looking at Vance, "I heard your wife is crippled? What happened?" There was no answer, but Rebecca felt a pang in her heart. The conversation continued inside. "Vance, we feel bad for you. With your money, looks, and success, you could have anyone. Why marry a cripple?" "Honestly, you're the best of us. Now with Rebecca, you can't bring her to meetings, events, or press—anywhere a wife should appear. What a loss!" So, that was why. Vance always kept her away from business affairs, telling her to just wait at home for him to bring back money. Her family praised him endlessly, saying she was blessed to live a life of luxury. But now she realized he couldn't bear to show her off in public. Inside the room, Vance laughed bitterly. "She saved my life. I owe her." "You've repaid her with all that money. Isn't that enough to settle it?" "Exactly! Should have just paid her off and moved on. Why sacrifice your happiness?" "Think it through, man. It's better to enshrine a statue and pray for wealth. What's the point of keeping her?" "What can she help you with? She can't attend events, and at home all she does is pour tea. Vance, do you seriously want this?" Laughter erupted, Catherine's peals among them. "Really, Vance? Is that how she walks?" Eavesdropping at the door, Rebecca felt blood rush to her head. Fury and humiliation knocked her off balance, causing her to push open the door. Everyone was laughing loudly as Vance's childhood friend, Aiden Hodge, dramatically limped while holding a glass of water, speaking in a falsetto voice. "Vance, have some water. Ah, I slipped. Vance, help me up." Rebecca stared at Vance, hoping that the man she loved more than anything would stand up for her. Chapter 3 The exaggerated performance fueled even more laughter. Catherine, seated beside Vance, collapsed onto his shoulder in hysterics. The man remained silent. Aiden turned, still grinning. "Vance, is it like..." His words died as he caught sight of Rebecca standing in the doorway. His smile faltered, and his tongue twisted. "R-Rebecca?" The others followed him to look over, all freezing. Catherine got up from Vance's shoulder, grinning. "Oh, this must be the legendary Mrs. Bradford. Come on in. I'm Catherine Welch, Vance's friend." Rebecca scanned the room, her blood running cold. Finally, Vance stood up and walked over to her. "Rebecca? What are you doing here? They were just joking. Don't take it to heart." She stared at him, feeling utterly alienated. For the first time, he seemed a stranger. In the face of mockery toward his wife, he sided with them. Aiden put down his glass, apologizing, "Y-Yeah, it was a joke. I'm sorry, Rebecca. Please don't be mad." Vance moved closer, attempting to embrace her. "Rebecca." But Rebecca recalled Catherine leaning on him earlier, his mas-tur-ba-tion in the bathroom, and the name he uttered in the climax. That hand, the one reaching for her now, felt utterly filthy. She quickly stepped back, avoiding him. "Rebecca?" Vance stared at his empty hand in confusion, then sighed. "I apologize on their behalf. Don't be upset, okay? I'll get a gift to make up for you. Anything you want." Catherine shot Aiden a playful glare. "This is your fault, Aiden. Apologize properly. Not everyone's like me, clumsy and thick-skinned, laughing off your jokes." Rebecca sneered at her cheeky speech, but these men didn't even sense the manipulation. Aiden grumbled, "I already did! Didn't know she'd show up. It was just a joke." "A joke is only funny if the target laughs," Rebecca retorted, her voice shaking with newfound courage. For five years, this curse of her unworthiness of Vance had confined her. Mocking glances made her shrink, retreating like a quail to lick her wounds alone. Aiden winced, "But I already apologized." "I-I don't accept it!" Rebecca trembled harder, defying mockery for the first time. Aiden mumbled, "Then what do you want?" Rebecca shook her head, having no answer. She just rejected their ridicule and Vance's alignment with them. "Enough, everyone." Vance intervened, positioning himself between her and Aiden. He was the leader of the group, his words carrying authority. After graduation, his business savvy had built their empire. The room fell silent, and he nodded, turning back to Rebecca. "Hey," he said evenly, his gaze as detached as ever, unlike the warmth in Catherine's video. "These are my longtime friends. They didn't mean to hurt your feelings. No malice, just banter. Forgive them this once. I'll have the driver take you home." "Rebecca," Catherine pouted, sidling up to Vance. "If you have to blame someone, blame me. This gathering is for my return. Vance, invite her to stay. I'll toast her with an apology." Her phony tone only disgusted Rebecca further and drove her to squint at Vance with resentment. It was his very indulgence that fed Catherine's boldness. "I'm fine," she said, holding back her bitterness. "I don't drink, especially not sour alc0-h0l." "Vance, is she insulting me? I..." Catherine wrinkled her nose, choking back her tears. "She misunderstood me, but it's fine. Don't blame her." Vance's jaw tightened. "Catherine meant well. Why are you being sarcastic?" "Meant well?" Rebecca snorted. Only a fool would think those words were spoken with good intentions, but Vance wasn't fool. He simply showed bias, siding with whom he favored rather than who was right. That side was always the one closest to his heart. Rebecca eyed the pair and their friends, feeling as though an insurmountable chasm lay between them. They formed a solid unit, while she was an intruder in their world. She was forever extraneous. Even lingering on the periphery felt out of place. She swallowed her bitterness, gave a cold laugh, and turned to leave. Behind her, Catherine's voice rang out. "Vance, she..." "It's fine. I'll talk to her when I get back," Vance said, waving it off. "Let's continue." Secretly, he glanced at the retreating figure, texting the driver to esc0rt her. Rebecca yearned to walk gracefully, but every step she took felt more unstable. Agitation only worsened her limp, her frantic exit mirroring Aiden's mockery. That would definitely make them laugh even harder. She wiped her tears with a trembling hand, hastening and wobbling more. The driver chased after her, but she was nowhere to be found outside the restaurant. The driver reported it to Vance, who frowned and called her. Rebecca rejected it and turned off her phone at the next one. Aiden was irked. "Her temper is just too short. You spoil her too much, man. With your status and looks, any wife would worship you. Yet she sulks? You're too soft." Vance stayed silent, but the others piled on. "Aiden is right. You sacrifice too much for her and the family, working tirelessly. She doesn't appreciate or support you. Throwing a tantrum over the smallest things. Worth it?" "Marrying her was charity. Who else wants a cripple? Without you, she'd wed another disabled person." Chapter 4 Catherine, reading the room, interjected timely, "Don't mind their harsh words, but as your long-time friends, we're truly concerned about you. We're blunt, but it's nothing personal. Don't take it to heart." "I'm not upset," Vance replied, pocketing his phone. "Doesn't matter. She won't stray far. Let's go on." In five years, home was her only refuge. He was not worried because she had nowhere else to go. Aiden eyed Catherine, muttering, "Catherine is the bigger person here. If you two hadn't split..." "Don't talk nonsense." Catherine glared. "Keep your mouth shut for one night. Vance is married now. That's inappropriate." Her gaze turned wistful toward Vance. "I don't want much. Just want to be accepted by you guys and stay by your side. That's enough." "Silly talk." Aiden thumped his chest loyally. "You're forever our princess, and we will never let anyone bully you. Vance, right?" Vance swirled his wine, the scene evocative of old times. He'd sit back, watching his crew banter with Catherine, not intervening unless things got out of hand. Now queried, he smiled faintly. "Of course." ... Rebecca didn't go home. Instead, she settled into her booked hotel. All the pent-up grievances and pain were unleashed the moment she closed the door behind her. Aiden's limp-mocking replayed endlessly in her mind, and their laughter haunted her like a curse. She had known all along their whispers behind her back, but she had never told Vance. She understood his work's toll, so she avoided conflicts, unwilling to add to his burdens or strain his bonds with his friends. Now, she saw her folly. He'd never clash with them over her; their friendship trumped everything. To him, she was nothing more than a debt—a burden that dragged him down. Without her, his life would be so much easier. "She is a cripple. Who else would want her?" "Yet she still expects so much from Vance?" "I'd rather be the crippled one than wed one and face ridicule." "Other CEOs flaunt elegant partners; Vance? He doesn't even have someone he can take out in public." ... The gossip and ridicule that Rebecca had heard over the past five years came rushing back like a tidal wave. She felt like she was being dragged under, drowning in it all. She couldn't breathe, the pain so intense it felt as if her chest and lungs were being torn apart. Trembling, she accessed a locked album on her phone—something untouched for five years. It contained photos and videos from her school days, documenting her dance practices and shows. Post-injury, she sealed these relics, set a password, and forced herself not to open it. Now her shaky finger tapped on a random video. The music played; she spun, flipped, and performed a mid-air split. She was vibrant, agile, and applauded thunderously. Was saving Vance wrong? But even then, marriage wasn't her aim. He insisted, orchestrating a grand proposal and kneeling before her with a huge diamond ring that sparked hope. She turned off her phone and collapsed in sobs. It was the first unbridled cry in five years. She wept until her tears ran out, but pain remained burning in her chest, licking at her from the inside like fire. But it was that very pain that brought her a moment of clarity in the suffocating whirlpool of emotions. The more it hurt, the more lucid she became. She rushed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face to calm down. The mirror reflected her dulled self, and she bit her lip. "Rebecca, one good cry is enough. No more. Now, eat well, rest well, and tomorrow, focus on your exam." The one thing she could be thankful for was that, during those long five years, she had spent her time studying to ki11 the boredom. Not because she had grand ambitions. She just had so much time and had nothing to do. Waiting for Vance to come home had been her whole life, but he always came home late. At first, she thought it was because of work. Later, she realized that he just didn't want to face her too soon. She had overheard it herself. Back then, she understood how hard he worked. She even gathered the courage to show concern for him, making him special meals and delivering them to his office, only to overhear the hard truth. He was talking with a friend who asked why he hadn't gone home yet. There was hardly anyone left in the office, and yet he, the CEO, was still working overtime. Vance had replied, "I don't know how to face my wife's enthusiasm." Simple-minded back then, Rebecca didn't understand the implication, but that friend did. He gasped, "No way! Don't tell me you haven't slept together yet." Vance fell silent because that was the truth. He never touched her, even though she had hinted or taken the initiative. Every time, he found excuses like her condition or his tiredness to reject her. She wasn't fool. Gradually, she realized he simply didn't love her, and that was why he didn't want to touch her. But hearing it from his mouth hurt her deeply, the pain almost suffocating. His friend, half-jokingly, half-seriously, asked him, "You don't mean to tell me you have no physical reaction at all, do you? Anyway, she's pretty." Vance's reply was the needle that pierced deep into her heart, and for the following years, it continually wounded her. Every time she thought about it, the pain would gnaw at her. "I've tried," Vance replied. "I wanted to have a normal married life with her, but every time I look at her leg, I lose all interest." So, that was how it was. Her leg, the one scarred and atrophied from saving him, in his eyes was disgusting, revolting. It was something that turned him off and ki11ed his desire. She never knocked on the office door that day. The meal she had prepared with such care was thrown into the trash can. From then on, she never set foot in his company again. Chapter 5 After that incident, Rebecca turned to books. She hadn't planned far ahead; she simply wanted to infuse her empty life with quiet pursuits. Keeping busy might dull the sting of those words. She never expected these small, personal distractions would, in the end, become her lifeline. She needed to ace tomorrow's exam. She had to leave this place, as far away as possible. The thought still brought intense pain to her heart. She couldn't distinguish if the ache stemmed from Vance or from her five wasted years. But it no longer mattered. What counted was refusing to wallow in the pain any longer. Even if it lingered for ages before fading, she was committed to saving herself. She ordered a light meal and a set of disposable clothes. Then she phoned the front desk for a morning wake-up call, and at last, she compelled herself to sleep. Perhaps due to the previous night's insomnia, she slept soundly. The next day, she woke up on time and turned on her phone. Messages poured in, the device vibrating incessantly, all from Vance. She skipped reading them, fearing they'd disrupt her focus on the exam. After breakfast, she left for the exam center, which was a mere five-minute walk away. As soon as she stepped out of the hotel, her phone buzzed with a call from Vance. In a panic, she nearly dropped it, swiftly rejecting the call before shutting it off again. Emerging from the exam hall, her heart pounded with exhilaration. She felt satisfied with her performance. The oral examiner smiled throughout their conversation. She understood most of what she heard, and the written parts felt steady and controlled. She dared not predict her score, but at least she had completed everything. She wasn't useless after all. Walking alone on the sidewalk, she kept her head down, mentally reviewing every detail of the exam until a pair of leather shoes appeared in her path. Expecting no deliberate block, she couldn't retract her step in time and bumped into the person. Without his steadying grip, she would have fallen. And that person was the last one she wanted to see. "Rebecca," Vance muttered, his voice strained. She remained silent, sensing his barely contained anger. He grasped her shoulders and softened his tone, asking in his usual gentle, warm manner, "Why didn't you come home?" He asked that question while knowing the answer, but it wasn't the time to argue with him. Her bag had just been knocked to the ground, the flap open, and her exam pen peeked out, which could give away her participation in the exam. She quickly wrenched free, squatted down, shoved the pen inside, and secured the bag. "What's that?" he asked, looking at her bag. "Nothing. Just a pen," she replied, trying to sound natural, though her fingers gripped the bag so tightly they blanched. "Let me see it," he said. She clutched it closer. "What do you need a pen for?" "Give me your phone," he demanded. After a brief standoff, she extracted it from the bag and handed it over. He glanced at the dead phone, then handed it back. "I called you so many times and sent countless messages. Why didn't you respond? Still angry?" She held the phone, relieved he hadn't delved into her emails or discovered the exam-related messages. If that was his only concern... She had no desire to argue with him or explain anything. She simply wanted to flee far away, and that urge intensified in his presence. Mistaking her silence for lingering resentment, he sighed, "You're usually so understanding. Why run off over this?" Rebecca swore she intended to stay calm, but his words would pr0v0ke even a saint. "Was it my fault? Was I being unreasonable?" she shot back. "Should I have joined in and complimented Aiden on his spot-on imitation?" Vance's face flushed with awkwardness. "That's not what I meant. You can't control what others say. There is no need to take their words to heart." "I can't control them, but you could!" she retorted, staring at him. "What were you doing? Laughing with Catherine pressed against you?" "Rebecca!" His expression darkened, revealing anger for the first time. She understood that Catherine was his sore spot. What more was there to say? She hugged her bag, trying to walk past him. His arm extended, wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. "I'm sorry for yelling at you," he murmured. "I just don't want you to misunderstand Catherine. She is a friend, just like the others. I only see her as a sister. She's unmarried, so speaking ill of her isn't fair." Rebecca couldn't grasp his reasoning. Hadn't they brought this on themselves? Catherine had leaned on him shamelessly, yet they feared commentary? She managed only a faint "Oh." "Rebecca..." he paused, detected her detachment. "Why still upset? You stayed at a hotel alone and didn't return home. I haven't even reproached you much, yet your anger persists?" That was his typical line. In his mind, it was her fault for everything. "Come on, let's drop it," he cooed. "Lunch first. Then I'll accompany you to the mall, alright?" Rebecca considered it. That was fine. She had something to tell him anyway. Vance led her to a nearby restaurant. As they entered, Rebecca instinctively lowered her head, raised her collar, and shuffled behind him to downplay her limp. It was a habit, though she soon relaxed. If she didn't measure up, so be it. She wasn't planning to match him anymore. Once seated, Vance placed the order, passing her the utensils, when the food arrived. "Dig in. These are all your favorites," he said, his voice as soft as ever. Rebecca eyed the spicy dishes and smiled bitterly. He had no idea she couldn't handle spice; home dinners were always spicy because he preferred them. "I'm not hungry," she said, not touching the food. "I have something to tell you." "What is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Wherever you want to go, I'll join you. I have the whole afternoon free. We can hang out, and then we'll go to your parents' house for dinner." She stared at his barely perceptible smile, her heart flooding with profound bitterness as she contemplated the words she was about to utter. Chapter 6 "Vance..." Rebecca choked back her tears, her voice trembling despite her efforts to stay composed. "What's wrong?" Vance reached for her hand. "If you feel like crying, then cry. Don't hold back." His voice was truly so soft and gentle. It brought her back to the day years ago when she had come out of the operating room after the surgery. He and the nurse had wheeled her back to the ward, and he had stayed by her bedside, speaking to her in that same tender tone, as if his words could drip with compassion. "Does it hurt? Cry it out. Don't hold back." At that time, she had believed that such gentle care was the best medicine to ease her pain. Then it took her years to fully understand that a man's tenderness and concern could never truly evolve into love. "Vance, let's get a divorce," she said in a low voice, withdrawing her hand as the stinging pain gradually blurred her eyes with tears. He furrowed his brow, clearly not expecting her to say something like that. After a brief silence, he called over the waiter to bring a clean small dish, then picked up a piece of fish with his fork and carefully began removing the bones. At the same time, he spoke in a soft, soothing voice. "I know you're still angry, but mentioning divorce isn't a rational response. If we divorced, what would you do? How would you manage to live on your own?" Rebecca's breathing became rapid and uneven. For five years, in the eyes of everyone around her, she had been seen as nothing more than his appendage. If separated from him, she would become a pitiful, unwanted soul incapable of surviving independently. And now, it was clear that he thought the same way. "I can do it," she replied firmly. For the first time, she stood her ground with determination, eager to prove her strength and fight for her dignity. Yet he merely smiled, as if dismissing her words as nothing more than a momentary fit of pique. He placed the carefully deboned fish in front of her and said, "Eat up. I'll permit you to stay upset for a little while longer, but once the meal is over, you can't be angry anymore." "I'm not angry. I want a divorce," she insisted, unsure how to make him see that her request wasn't just an impulsive outburst born from frustration. "You see," he set down his fork, "today, I pushed back two meetings and a business discussion specifically to spend time with you and make you happy. Tomorrow and the day after, I might not have nearly as much availability. Let me repeat this. Catherine is a good friend to all of us. She's part of our crew. I treat her the same as I do Aiden and the others. She really likes you and has always wanted to become friends with you. With this attitude of yours, how am I supposed to introduce her to you properly?" "Then there's no need to introduce her at all," Rebecca replied, not believing for a second that Catherine truly wanted to be friends with her. Vance's voice sharpened. "Rebecca!" She had known that, whenever the topic involved Catherine, his patience wore thin, and his temper wasn't as controlled. "Eat up. Afterward, we'll go to the mall, buy whatever you like, and then head over to your parents' house for dinner. It's been quite a while since you've gone back to see them, hasn't it?" he said, adding more food to her plate. Unwilling to deprive herself, she picked up her fork and began eating what she could. Regardless of the situation, she needed to ensure she maintained her health first and foremost. There was no point in taking out her frustrations on her stomach. "That's the right approach," Vance said, his voice returning to its gentle tone. "But from now on, don't bring up that word again." She paused for a moment, then lowered her head and continued eating in silence. After finishing the meal, she had no desire to go shopping, but Vance insisted on it, driving them directly to the mall without further discussion. Over the course of their five-year marriage, the number of times Vance had accompanied her on a shopping trip could be counted on one hand. In fact, the occasions when they had appeared together in public at all were exceedingly rare. The mall's lighting was intensely bright, even during the daytime, creating a glaring atmosphere that she found uncomfortable. Clutching her purse, she walked cautiously in his shadow. The first floor was lined with counters displaying luxury bags, watches, and jewelry. "Anything you like?" he asked, turning around. She didn't want to buy anything at all. She just wanted to go home. But before she could respond, someone called out from a distance, "Mr. Bradford!" "It's a new business partner I've recently connected with. I'll go over and greet them quickly," Vance explained. "You can browse around on your own for a bit. I'll come find you shortly." Vance's clients were all people she didn't know. She watched as he walked over and shook hands with a gentleman not far away, then stood there awkwardly. Amid all this opulent luxury, there was nothing that caught her interest or that she wanted to purchase. Her thoughts were interrupted by the voice of a sales associate. "Miss, it's your turn." She turned around, realizing that she had inadvertently positioned herself in the queue at one of the luxury brand stores. "Oh, no, thank you," she said hastily, quickly stepping away from the line. She wandered through the mall until, at a certain high-end watch counter, she caught sight of a familiar figure—Catherine. As she looked at the brand of watches on display, something heavy seemed to sink deep within her chest, and without fully realizing it, she found herself walking toward the counter. Accompanying Catherine in browsing the watches was Aiden. As Rebecca approached closer, the conversation between the two became increasingly audible. "If you like it, just go ahead and buy it," Aiden said. Catherine hesitated. "But this doesn't seem right. Even though Vance gave me his supplementary card and told me to use it freely, I can't bring myself to buy something this pricey." Rebecca stopped in her tracks, unable to take another step. Her heart felt as heavy as her feet. "The supplementary card... Vance's supplementary card..." "Since he gave it to you, he obviously meant for you to use it. When has Vance ever been the type to say one thing but mean another?" Aiden reassured her. "We've been friends for so many years. You know his character better than anyone. If he gives something, it's with full sincerity." "I guess you're right." Catherine nodded, beginning to turn her wrist this way and that to show Aiden the watch from various angles. Rebecca saw it, too. "How does it look?" Catherine asked. "I really love this model. I've wanted it since college. Vance promised me he'd buy it for me upon graduation, but then..." A wave of mocking yet bitter amusement welled up in Rebecca's heart. But then, every year on her birthday and their wedding anniversary, Vance had given her watches of this same model. Originally, she had thought that even if Vance didn't put much heart into it, at least he remembered her important dates and their anniversaries. The gifts might have been repetitive and lacking in thoughtfulness, but they were at least valuable. Now she realized that he did care. It was just that none of it had ever been directed toward her. "Well, Vance is fulfilling that promise now, isn't he?" Aiden laughed. "You can buy whatever you want these days. He can afford it all." "Then I'll go ahead and charge it?" Catherine said, her excitement visibly growing by the second. Meanwhile, in another part of the mall, Vance had finished exchanging pleasantries with his business contact. The man, who was there to pick up his wife from shopping, learned that Vance was accompanying his wife as well and suggested they go over to say hello. As Vance walked in her direction, Rebecca quickly ducked out of sight, hiding behind a Roman column. Catherine spotted him and waved her hand enthusiastically. "Vance, over here!" Peering out from behind the column, Rebecca saw Vance and his business contact making their way toward Catherine. She immediately linked her arm through Vance's and began swaying it playfully. "I want to buy this watch. Is that okay?" "Sure," Vance replied, his gaze softening. The sparkle in his eyes brought his entire face to life, a stark contrast to the bland, emotionless demeanor he always wore at home when he was with Rebecca. "Thank you. I'm going to swipe the card now," Catherine chirped, waving the supplementary card. The business contact smiled warmly. "You guys have such a deep bond. It's so touching, Mr. and Mrs. Bradford." The pair blinked at the appellation, but neither of them attempted to correct the misunderstanding. Chapter 7 After a moment of awkwardness, Vance and Catherine quickly adjusted to the mistaken roles. They began chatting and laughing effortlessly with the business contact. Standing together, they looked like a well-matched couple. Rebecca watched silently, taking a photo with her phone. As she turned to leave, the sharp "needle" buried deep in her heart pricked her once more. A sharp, intricate pain that rapidly spread through her chest, even causing a sour ache at the tip of her nose. Just as she was about to exit the mall, a voice called out, "Rebecca?" She turned to see someone waving vigorously from the descending escalator. To her surprise, it was her instructor from the dance academy. "Mrs. Lemke?" she exclaimed, her heart lifting with joy. Lauren Lemke quickly descended the escalator and approached, taking hold of Rebecca's hands with evident joy. "It's really you, Rebecca! It's been five years since we last saw each other. How have you been?" A wave of sadness washed over her. Five years had passed, and she had lived like a useless invalid. Facing Lauren now, she felt embarrassed. Still holding Rebecca's hand, Lauren asked, "Are you busy? If not, let's find a place to have some afternoon tea." Rebecca wasn't busy at all. In the past, her deep-seated insecurity might have led her to shut herself off further, politely declining any connection to her old dance world and its people. But ever since she had opened that album of dance photos and videos on her phone, it felt as though a fissure had cracked open in her darkened sky. Suddenly, she yearned for light to pour in. She nodded, her eyes shimmering with tears. "Sounds good." Lauren led her to a cozy teahouse located in the center of the first floor, and she asked, "How are the others? What have they been up to?" She had distanced herself from that world so completely and for so long that she had withdrawn from every single group chat with her former peers. "Do you really want to know?" Lauren gave her a perceptive look, aware of her situation. The promising student who had been guaranteed a spot in graduate school suddenly gave it up. Naturally, questions had arisen, and Lauren had even made a special trip to Soliaridge to visit her once. Rebecca nodded emphatically, and Lauren proceeded to fill her in. Five years was indeed enough time to transform a person's life entirely. Her classmates had all moved forward in remarkable ways. Some had joined dance troupes and risen to become principal dancers. Others had pursued advanced studies abroad and now held doctoral degrees. A few had stayed on at the academy as instructors, nurturing the next generation of talent. Everyone had taken a big step forward in their respective paths. Only she had remained stagnant. But starting from today, she vowed to make a change. She would strive to catch up, even if she could no longer dance. She would find her place in other fields. "I-I'm ready to give you an update on my progress too," she said, her eyes feeling hot and prickly. She felt she owed Lauren more than just a promise. "That would be wonderful," Lauren replied with a smile as warm and encouraging as ever. Rebecca leaned in close to Lauren's ear and whispered about her plans to study abroad. "This is fantastic! I knew it! None of my students are quitters!" Lauren exclaimed, gripping her hand tightly in excitement. "And it couldn't be better timing. Our troupe has a European tour coming up. You should come along to get a sense of things and start adapting to life over there." "I..." Rebecca hesitated, not sure if her legs could handle the trip. She could no longer dance; even walking was a pain for her. And the graduate program she had applied for was in a theoretical field. "Nothing's impossible," Lauren encouraged her. "If that accident hadn't happened, you would have been a member of the youth dance troupe by now. You can join us in a support role—as a runner, stage manager, or even helping with makeup." Lauren spoke with such firm conviction, treating Rebecca not as a cripple but as someone fully capable. Rebecca couldn't help but smile; she loved this feeling of not being defined or pitied because of her disability. Even if she couldn't dance, she could still contribute in other ways. She wasn't just a useless invalid. Lauren's phone vibrated with an incoming message. After reading it, she looked up and said, "It's my husband. Would you mind if he joins us?" "Of course not," Rebecca replied with a smile, though she felt a bit timid about it. After five years of seclusion, she had grown unaccustomed to meeting new people, but she knew she had to start somewhere. This was her first step. "Then I'll have him come over," Lauren said, replying to the message. However, what Rebecca never could have anticipated was that Lauren's husband turned out to be the very same business contact Vance had met earlier. "Pascal is here on business, and I came along for a few days of leisure, not expecting to run into you. It's fate," Lauren explained. Rebecca noticed that Vance, Catherine, and Pascal were walking together toward the teahouse. When the trio finally arrived at their table, Rebecca remained seated, observing the fascinating shifts in color on Vance's and Catherine's faces. "Come take a seat. This is my wife, Lauren. She is a dance teacher," Pascal said warmly. "And this is the gentleman I'm collaborating with on this trip, Mr. Vance Bradford, along with his wife." Vance's hand trembled slightly, and Catherine fidgeted restlessly. They both stared at Rebecca with tense anxiety. Rebecca simply looked back at them, offering a faint, composed smile. Lauren also made introductions for Rebecca's benefit. "This is my husband, Pascal." Then, pointing to Rebecca, she added, "And this is one of my students—the one who had the greatest potential to win the National Dance Championship back in the day." Vance stiffened at the mention of the contest, and his gaze shifted downward, as if he were attempting to look at Rebecca's leg. Rebecca detected unmistakable pain in his eyes. Of course, he was in pain. If it hadn't been for her injury, he would never have married her. In that case, the woman by his side now could have rightfully been his wife. Rebecca chuckled, "Actually, I am..." "Ah!" Catherine let out a sharp yelp at just the right moment, interrupting Rebecca mid-sentence. Rebecca paused, looking over. Catherine had spilled the tea, the hot liquid splashing all over her hand and clothes. "I'm so sorry. How embarrassing. This is really rude of me," she stammered, hurriedly grabbing napkins to wipe it up. "It's alright," Lauren said, not understanding the underlying tension, and even helped by passing more tissues. The episode prevented Rebecca from revealing the truth. But if Rebecca had truly wanted to continue, no one could have stopped her. From across the table, Vance cast her a pleading glance, subtly shaking his head and mouthing, "Don't say it." Truth be told, she hadn't intended to say it in the first place. She had deliberately spoken only half the sentence, just to watch the two of them scramble in panic. Throughout this afternoon tea session, some sat as if on pins and needles, while others remained perfectly at ease. As Rebecca reached for her teacup, Lauren suddenly noticed something in her hand. "Is that a wedding ring? You're married? To whom?" The question landed like a bolt from the blue, causing Vance and Catherine to pale dramatically. Rebecca glanced at Vance's hand resting beside his teacup, a mocking smile curling at the corner of her lips. He had never once worn a wedding ring; the pair from their ceremony had been removed immediately after the wedding and left to gather dust somewhere unknown. "Yes, I've been married for five years now," she replied calmly. "My husband's last name is Bradford."
