Watching Lin Ximo’s strained smile and loaded glance as she requested a moment alone with Fu Siyan, my heart sank. I retreated to a quiet corner of the ballroom, watching my husband get encircled by a group of wealthy socialites, all wearing that knowing, smirking expression.

“She really is like a relentless ghost, isn’t she?” A voice chimed in from beside me, startling me. It was Fu Ting. She stood with her arms crossed, looking like she’d just finished watching an endless drama series.

“You know her?” I asked, taken aback.

Taking a slow sip of champagne, Fu Ting scoffed, “Know her? I can’t stand her. She’s my brother’s former schoolmate. Back in the day, she’d constantly drop by our house and linger for hours. She speaks with that fake, high-pitched voice—it’s utterly nauseating.”

So that was it. They had a history—a past I never had the chance to step into. The thought left a bitter lump in my throat. “So… did they ever actually date?”

“I think so. I’m not entirely sure.” Fu Ting’s casual reply hit like a ton of bricks, leaving me frozen. My fingers mindlessly traced the rim of my glass, sending ripples across the wine’s surface, mirroring the turmoil inside me.

Excusing myself to the restroom to pull my feelings together, I drafted a text to Siyan, planning to tell him I wasn’t feeling well and heading home early. But as I passed the stairwell, a sight caught my eye that glued my feet to the floor.

Siyan and Lin Ximo were standing face to face. Her fingers were softly curled around his tie, a gesture that was both delicate and blatantly intimate. A smirk tugged at her lips as she leaned in, shrinking the distance between them into a blur of unspoken tension. But what hurt the most—Siyan didn’t pull away.

A surge of pure bitterness welled up in my throat. Married all this time, he and I had never been anywhere near that close. I used to think he was just naturally distant, but I finally saw the truth: he wasn’t cold, his warmth just wasn’t meant for me.

The ultimate irony? That tie he was wearing was the very one I had knotted around his collar this morning—an anniversary gift I spent forever choosing. Now, it was resting in another woman’s hands, pulled back and forth like a toy. Tears blurred my vision. I couldn’t bear to watch another second. Turning on my heel, I hurried away, unaware that behind me, Lin Ximo was watching my retreating back with a triumphant smirk.

Inside the private VIP room, the deafening bass threatened to shatter my eardrums. I knocked back glass after glass, the burning alcohol scalding my throat as tears silently slipped down my cheeks.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Fu Ting snatched the bottle out of my hand. “Let me go demand an explanation from my brother.”

“Don’t bother,” I cut her off.

If he didn’t care, he didn’t care. No amount of effort on my part would ever change that. Looking back, that night I took the initiative, the scene was practically set, yet he had the restraint to push me away. Turns out, I was merely a suitable marriage of convenience. The place in his heart had belonged to someone else all along.

Why did it hurt this much? It turned out I wasn’t just captivated by his good looks. I liked him—liked him so much I hadn’t even realized it myself. The realization arrived far too late, striking like a whip straight to my heart, leaving me gasping for air under the sheer weight of the pain.

But no matter how much I liked him, I still had my pride.

Sitting numbly with my phone in hand for what felt like an eternity, I finally bit the bullet and sent a text: I want a divorce. Before Siyan could even reply, I powered off the phone. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure what terrified me more—the thought of him agreeing right away, or the dread of his silence.

“Qiaoqiao, if it hurts, just let it out,” Fu Ting squeezed my hand tightly, offering a warm, grounding presence.

“I’m not going to cry over him,” I sniffled, forcing a smile that looked worse than a crashing stock market chart. “If he doesn’t want me, fine. A self-respecting woman doesn’t hang herself on a single tree.”

“Darling, drowning your sorrows in alcohol won’t fix anything. Let me get you some real entertainment.” Fu Ting gave me a mysterious, cat-like wink and clapped her hands.

The doors swung open. A line of drop-dead gorgeous guys walked in, representing an entire spectrum of eye candy: from brooding and sweet to ruggedly handsome and scholarly. Before I could even process the sight, Fu Ting slammed a stack of cash onto the table with authority. “Treat her well, and this is all yours!”

The young men swarmed around me instantly, their service so attentive I almost felt like a diamond VIP guest. The only catch… standing next to the image of Fu Siyan in my head, these male models instantly tumbled from “gods” down to mere display props. What comes easy never feels valuable, yet I kept obsessing over what I couldn’t have.

Just as the atmosphere hit its peak—BANG!

The heavy doors were thrown wide open. I was in the middle of rolling dice with one of the guys beside me when I heard Fu Ting’s trembling voice: “…Brother.”

“Tingting, you’ve really outdone yourself lately. I searched everywhere for you, only to find you bringing your sister-in-law out… to hire male companions.”

A bone-chilling voice echoed through the room. Siyan stood framed in the doorway, his face darker than a thundercloud. The sheer aura radiating from him was suffocating.

“We’re leaving.” Two short words, cold enough to freeze the room solid.

If this were any other day, I would have quietly stood up and followed him. But tonight, I was done being submissive. I deliberately reached out and lightly brushed my fingers over the arm of the model sitting beside me—a small, subtle move, but enough to make the veins on Fu Siyan’s forehead pulse with anger.