Chapter 1
The day I submitted the divorce papers to Yannick Aguirre, he looked up at me and asked, "Are you taking those photos with you?"
I shook my head.
The seven years I had spent with him had long since become a stain on the image he carefully curated for himself.
Leaving them to gather dust in an empty house suited them better than letting them follow me out.
When he saw how resolute I was, Yannick's eyes turned red.
"Why?" he asked. "You won't even keep seven years of memories. Does that mean you don't love me anymore?"
I looked at him quietly and said nothing.
Once, I had screamed at him, demanding to know why he cheated.
I had even reached my breaking point and slapped the woman he worked with.
That was when I loved him the most.
And what did I get in return? A violent shove—and blood spreading beneath me.
He said, "A woman with nothing better to do thinks she has a say in my affairs? When I'm working hard to maintain my image as an executive, you choose to make a scene like some hysterical shrew and humiliate me..."
*****
The warning signs of our relationship's collapse had been there all along.
It happened about a month before autumn set in.
The night breeze slipped into the apartment, carrying a touch of chill.
The company's system pinged with the announcement, "Yannick Aguirre had been promoted to senior management."
I sat on the couch, staring at his profile photo on the screen.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
I didn't type a single word for a long time.
Was I happy for him?
I was not.
My chest felt stifled, almost suffocating.
I just felt hollow inside.
My phone buzzed.
It was a message from my college friend, Ryleigh Becker. [Yannick finally made it big.]
[But you, his official wife, still have to stay in the shadows? Seriously, why?]
I stared at the words on the screen, my eyes growing misty.
I typed out a breezy reply: [A promotion and a raise are great news. I'll treat you to a big meal this weekend.]
The message went out.
I set my phone face down on the table.
I looked up at our photo hanging on the living room wall.
It was from our graduation trip.
He was smiling so purely in the picture, his arm pulling me close.
I stood on a little stool and took the frame down.
Our matching mugs sat on the coffee table.
His slippers sat in the shoe cabinet, a reminder he once lived here.
On the balcony, our towels hung side by side.
I found an empty cardboard box.
One by one, I packed up everything that belonged to us and taped it shut.
If he wanted to keep our marriage a secret, I might as well play along in every little way.
After I finished tidying up, I picked up my phone again.
I opened our message thread with Yannick.
I wanted to ask if he was coming back to the apartment tonight.
My finger accidentally tapped his profile picture.
On Instagram, all the posts that used to be visible to me had turned into nothing but a blank space.
He had restricted me from seeing his updates.
I stared at that empty space for a long time.
I didn't get angry, and I didn't confront him.
The corporate world at a big company was a strict pyramid, with those at the top holding all the power and those below just trying to survive.
Those at the top called all the shots, and everyone else just had to toe the line.
Everyone was watching the senior management positions like hawks.
One wrong move, and one could get swallowed up by gossip.
Yannick always said that to keep his reputation intact, our marriage had to stay hidden at work.
Living like this and always hiding our marriage had already drained me.
I knew all too well how obsessed he was with other people's opinions.
Trying to fight a guy's need to be worshipped? That was a losing battle.
I was tired of endless arguments.
I didn't want to be labeled as the unreasonable wife, the one who messed up his career.
So I swallowed my pride and let it go.
I played along with his desperate need to keep our marriage hidden.
The work group chat was buzzing nonstop.
The whole screen was filled with praise for Yannick and cash gifts flying everywhere.
Someone dropped a sneaky photo in the group.
It was from his promotion party.
He sat at the head of the table, looking sharp in his suit.
A few young female colleagues clustered around him.
He held his glass, a polished smile playing at his lips.
His whole demeanor was brimming with ambition and energy.
He was thriving under the adoration of everyone around him, loving every second in the spotlight.
I zoomed in on the photo, staring at his face—so familiar, yet somehow a stranger now.
The guy who once carried me barefoot through a college rainstorm to the nurse's office had finally climbed his way to the top.
But the difference in status between us had split us apart, leaving a gulf that couldn't be crossed.
I always gave in, held back, and suppressed myself.
I kept backing down, again and again, only to find out I'd already been cut out of his world.
Turned out, in Yannick's heart, I'd been erased long ago.
The private room was packed with chatter and laughter.
The noise from toasts and banter kept getting louder, one wave after another.
Yannick sat at the head of the table.
I quietly tucked myself away in the farthest corner from him.
His eyes scanned the room, cutting through the crowd.
For a moment, his gaze lingered on me.
I pulled off a flawless smile that nobody could fault.
I raised my glass and mimed a toast in his direction, clinking the air.
I maintained the perfect distance, just like any ordinary coworker.
Yannick gave a slight nod. His eyes showed he was pleased.
The door to the private room swung open.
Mallory Stephens stepped in, the cool autumn breeze trailing behind her.
Everyone turned to look at her.