The third year of Bryce Oswin's affair was the year I could finally go home.

For the last ten days, I stopped arguing or crying.

I let him stay out all night with his mistress. I let him give away the things I once cherished, tossing them to her like scraps.

The day I left was my birthday.

He stormed in with his mistress, knocked over my birthday cake, and shoved me against the window, one hand locked around my throat.

He demanded to know why I'd hurt their child.

"When did you get this cruel?" he spat.

I laughed, too tired to bother explaining anymore.

"Yeah. I'm exactly that cruel.

"So go ahead—have a good life with her."

And with his eyes locked on mine, I turned and jumped from the 19th floor.

That was the end of it all.

***

It was right after one of our brutal fights.

He'd just come back from sleeping with Karley Elwood, the model he kept on the side.

He found me lying in bed and slid in behind me, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

His lips were warm, trailing kisses along my neck, one after another.

I sat up abruptly and slapped him without thinking.

"Bryce, you might not care about filth, but I do."

He froze for a moment, touched his face with a bitter little smile, then suddenly yanked me up.

He shoved me in front of the bathroom mirror, one hand clamped around my jaw, his eyes sharp and poisonous.

"You're disgusted by me?

"Angela Redford, look at yourself. Do you even recognize the woman you used to be?"

I stared at my reflection.

My hair was a mess, the strap of my nightgown slipping off one shoulder. I looked like a madwoman.

The eyes that used to be my best feature—bright, gentle—were dull now, lifeless.

Fine lines crept across my face, stealing away any trace of youth.

For a second, Karley's face flashed in my mind—radiant, brimming with desire and ambition, her eyes shining as she looked at me with open challenge.

"So, Bryce, is that your excuse for cheating?"

I leaned against the wall, laughing bitterly, eyes stinging with tears.

He moved closer, gently brushing a fingertip beneath my eye.

"I've said it before—I'm just having fun. When I get bored, I'll come back. Angela, I've always loved you."

Disgusting.

A wave of nausea crashed over me, impossible to fight.

I screamed in agony, grabbed a bottle, and smashed it into the mirror. Glass shattered everywhere.

"Get out! Get the hell out!"

After he left, I stood barefoot on the freezing marble floor, staring out the window at the giant LED billboard—Bryce's latest ad for Karley, her face blown up for the whole city to see.

I let out a bitter laugh.

Confrontations like this had happened so many times this year.

The pain that once cut me to the bone had faded, replaced by numb despair.

Eight years ago, I saved Bryce, a miserable, broken boy.

His father had cheated, the family business collapsed, his mother killed herself, and he was drowning in debt. There was nothing but emptiness in his eyes.

I stayed with him in a basement apartment, lived off scraps, and helped him pay off every cent of that debt.

He once asked me, bewildered, "Why are you so good to me?"

I smiled and took his hand. "Maybe it's fate."

He lowered his head and whispered, "Then you're the best thing fate ever gave me."

When we were finally free, he must have known I'd leave. He hugged me from behind, eyes red, and didn't sleep all night.

I caved and held him back.

But five years later, Bryce cheated—right in the third year of our marriage.

He kept a young, beautiful model—Karley—as his mistress.

The day I discovered his affair is burned into my memory—a deafening roar in my mind, the world spinning into chaos.

Bryce knelt in front of me, sobbing, begging for forgiveness. He claimed it was just a moment of weakness, a fleeting thrill.

Three years of dating, three years of marriage, six years away from my family—all for this ending.

I couldn't accept it. I couldn't let us go so easily.

So, by unspoken agreement, we decided to keep the marriage going.

But love that's rotted through—a rose crawling with maggots—is too hard to throw away and too disgusting to keep.

With every betrayal, we fought and resented each other, until we were both exhausted and hollowed out.

It was like death by a thousand cuts—slowly, painfully, our love bled out and died.

"I regret it. I want to go home."

I wiped away my tears and started packing.

I didn't want to leave a single trace of myself in this world anymore.

I stuffed all my clothes into bags and tossed them in the trash.

I took down every wedding photo of Bryce and me, pulled out the wedding ring he'd given me.

On our wedding day, Bryce had knelt before me, holding out that ring—a 70-point diamond that cost him everything he owned.

His voice choked as he said, "Angela, you're the only light in my dark life.

"I'll be faithful to you, and only you, for the rest of my days."

For five years, I refused to accept the reality of this twisted marriage. I struggled, I fought.

Now, finally, I could leave. In a way, it felt like freedom.

The next morning, I got up and went downstairs.

The house was dim, the lights barely on. Bryce sat on the couch, smoking, his expression unreadable.

"Where are the wedding photos?"

His voice was flat as he called out to me.

His phone kept lighting up, one message after another.

It was Karley. She was holding a bouquet of gold-foil roses, grinning from ear to ear.

"Last night wore me out, but this gift made it all better."

He noticed, but didn't bother to hide his phone.

"Put away," I replied, my voice steady.

I walked right past him into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water.

He stubbed out his cigarette, smirked, and stood up. From his pocket, he pulled out a Van Cleef & Arpels necklace—custom-made, expensive.

He came up behind me and fastened it around my neck.

"Still mad?

"Here, a peace offering.

"It looks good on you."

He leaned in, his voice a poisonous whisper against my ear, smooth as a snake's hiss.

"Angela, you'll always be Mrs. Oswin. No one can take your place.

"Not even Karley.

"When I get tired of her, let's try for a baby again, okay?"

I pushed him away, cold and sharp. Then brushed the smudge of bright lipstick from his shirt collar.

I gave him a mocking smile and walked away.

Bryce and I once had a child, too.

But it was my first pregnancy, and I didn't even know it myself.

Back then, I was still clinging to my loyalty to Bryce, refusing to give up. I spent an entire night outside the hotel where he and Karley were staying, crying until dawn.

It wasn't until morning that I saw him with my own eyes, his arm around Karley, his hand shamelessly resting on her backside as he ushered her into the passenger seat.

Within moments, the two of them were tangled up in the car, lost in each other.

That was the moment I lost control—white-knuckling the steering wheel, screaming at the top of my lungs, and crashing right into them.

That was when I lost the baby.

It was the fourth time I'd caught Bryce with her.

Bryce looked a little surprised, but never realized anything was truly wrong.

He just nodded absentmindedly and walked out the door again.

He didn't come home for two days straight.

During those two days, the tabloids were flooded with his latest scandals with Karley across the headlines.

I didn't call. I didn't text. Not even once.

Instead, I started selling off every property and piece of jewelry I'd collected over the years.

In the first two years after we married, Bryce worked like a madman, building up a fortune almost overnight.

Those were the honeymoon years—the time when we were most in love.

Every property he bought, he put in my name.

He used to say he felt guilty, that I'd pulled him out of the darkness and stood by him through every hardship.

Giving me enough money was the only way he could find peace of mind.

In the end, he couldn't give me enough love, but he gave me more money than I could ever spend in a lifetime.

With only five days left on my countdown, I drove out to the suburbs.

There was still one villa left—the only property I hadn't sold.

It was Bryce's anniversary gift to me after we got married.

All our happiest vacations were spent there.

Even the baby, that villa held memories that nothing else could replace.

This time, I was only there to grab the deed and hand it over to the realtor.

I drove through the villa community. It had been two years since I'd set foot there, not since Bryce's first affair.

Everything looked brand new. The little garden outside was blooming with roses.

Puzzled, I got out of the car and unlocked the front door.

But before I could open it, someone opened it from inside.

"What is it, babe? Didn't I just satisfy you, and now you want more?"

It was Karley.

Karley was lounging in the doorway in a red silk nightgown, looking relaxed and just a little surprised to see me.

But that didn't last long.

Her dewy eyes swept over me from head to toe, brimming with smugness and disdain.

In that instant, I understood everything.

Bryce had set her up here.

"This is my house.

"You have five minutes to get dressed and get out."

I pulled the door open, ready to walk in.

Karley blocked the way, meeting my gaze without a hint of fear.

"But Mr. Oswin gave me this place," she said, her tone sweet and mocking.

"Oh, he gave it to you?

"When did the deed change hands?

"Wouldn't the actual owner know if that happened?

"It's just a temporary stay, and you're acting like you own the place. Playing queen in a borrowed nest—don't flatter yourself."

Color rose and fell in Karley's cheeks.

I couldn't be bothered to argue, so I pulled out my phone and dialed Bryce.

Let him clean up his own mess.

On the other end, Bryce gave a dismissive little laugh.

"Angela, it's just a house. What's the harm in letting Karley stay for a few days?

"Don't go picking on her—if you make her cry, she'll be impossible to console.

"And besides..."

I didn't catch the rest of what Bryce was saying, because Karley suddenly grabbed my wrist, looking even more defiant.

"Ms. Redford, I heard you and Mr. Oswin dated for three years before you finally got married.

"Well, I've been with him for three years, too.

"Tell me, do you think this is the year I get to be Mrs. Oswin?"

She ran her hand over her belly.

"Oh, and just so you know, I've added a little something extra to my bet—Bryce's child, right here."

On the phone, I could hear Bryce shuffling cards, his voice drifting lazily back.

"There was a fine green gemstone necklace up for auction the other day.

"I bought it for you—it's your birthday soon, I'll give it to you then.

"Keeping Karley around is just for fun, like a little songbird to pass the time.

"But if it really bothers you, I'll have her move out."

He kept rambling, brushing me off.

I let out a cold, trembling laugh.

"Bryce, are you hearing this?

"Your mistress is having a little songbird of her own!

"Congratulations—you're going to be a father. You finally got what you wanted."

On the other end, Bryce went silent. For a long moment, there was nothing but dead air.

Bryce found me just as I was leaving the cemetery.

By then, there were only three days left before I was gone for good.

Karley's words kept echoing in my mind, dragging me back to memories of that child.

These past few days, I've gone to visit my child's grave, bringing candy as an offering.

I hadn't gone home, hadn't answered any of Bryce's calls.

It was as if I'd vanished from the face of the earth.

So when Bryce finally caught up with me, he grabbed me without a word and dragged me straight into his car.

Inside the car, his hands gripped the steering wheel, his eyes lingering on me with a heavy, searching look.

His voice was hoarse as he finally spoke.

"I'll take care of Karley."

But now, with a child on the way, he was still pretending to be the devoted husband.

I couldn't help but find it all laughable. I folded my arms and stared out the window.

"What does that have to do with me?

"It's not like the baby is mine."

His eyes darkened instantly, but a cold smile tugged at his lips. Suddenly, he seized my wrist, forcing me to turn and face him.

"Angela, do you really not care at all?"

The corners of his eyes were tinged red, his gaze locked on me as if he was desperate not to miss a single flicker of emotion.

"And where have you been these past few days?

"You won't even pick up the phone?"

But my face betrayed nothing.

I merely glanced at him, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Bryce.

"I'm going home."

The air between us turned deathly still.

After a long moment, he let out a bitter, mocking laugh, as if I'd just told the world's funniest joke. His tone was laced with arrogance.

"Home?

"And where exactly would that be?

"You don't have a family to go back to, do you?

"Besides me, do you even have anyone left in this world?"

I looked at him quietly, a bitter self-mockery flickering in my eyes.

So this is where love ends—with nothing but cruel words.

I took a deep breath, realizing there was nothing left to say to him. I got out of the car.

Bryce slammed his fist against the steering wheel and sped off, tires screeching.

Once again, our parting was anything but peaceful.

In those last three days, he pushed things further than ever.

Sometimes he even brought Karley home for the night, making no effort to hide the sounds coming from their room.

And me? I just closed my bedroom door and said nothing, not even bothering to ask.

The day before I was set to leave this world was my birthday.

At dawn, Bryce didn't even glance my way—he just left the house without a word.

I spent the entire day alone, burning every photo of Bryce and me, one by one.

Then I sat in silence, waiting for midnight to come.

That night, I bought myself a small birthday cake and placed candles on it, one by one.

I turned off the lights, closed my eyes, and folded my hands, making a wish.

I wished for a safe journey home. I wish that Bryce and I would never cross paths again.

But before I could blow out the candles, I heard the front door open.

Bryce walked in, his face dark and stormy.

Trailing behind him was Karley, tears streaming down her face.

Before I could react, she slapped me hard across the face.

"Mrs. Oswin, I know you don't like me.

"But my baby is innocent.

"What right do you have to hurt him?!"

I touched my burning cheek, a wry smile tugging at my lips.

To be honest, I had no idea what she was talking about.

I hadn't left the house all day.

But Karley's slap—well, that was a gift from Bryce.

He stood off to the side, a cigar between his fingers, sneering.

"Angela, was that really necessary?

"You can't have a child yourself, so you send someone to kill hers?"

His words were sharp as a knife, tearing open old wounds I thought had long since scarred over.

But I didn't have the energy to argue anymore.

I walked straight past Bryce and slapped Karley across the face.

That was payback for the slap she'd just given me—and a reward for her three years as the other woman.

If I didn't do it now, I'd never get another chance.

Karley was stunned. When she finally realized what had happened, she threw herself into Bryce's arms, sobbing pitifully.

He rubbed his temples, then yanked the tablecloth off the table with a flourish.

With a crash, plates and cake shattered across the floor—just like my five years of marriage, broken and scattered.

He stalked over to me, pinning me against the window ledge, his grip vise-tight on my chin.

Under his chiseled brow, his eyes were cold and merciless.

"I told you I'd handle this," he said, voice icy.

"Why did you have to provoke her?

"Angela, when did you become so vicious?

"Or is this all just another performance to make me let you go home?"

Behind me, the window stood wide open.

Nineteen stories below, the city lights flickered, and the night wind howled in.

I let out a soft laugh and brushed Bryce's hand away.

My voice was gentle.

"That's right. I'm just that vicious."

Bryce frowned.

I pointed at Karley and gave him a little smile.

"So, I'm stepping aside.

"You and Karley can finally be together."

And then, right in front of Bryce, I leaned back and jumped, falling from the 19th floor.