Ten years into my marriage, my former best friend, Melissa Hamilton, posted a photo.

In it, her daughter, Anabelle Hamilton, and my son, Robert Anderson, were held close by her and my husband, William Anderson.

The four of them stood together, smiling. Her caption read, "How could this not be the perfect family?"

I left a comment under it: "You look perfect together."

Moments later, the post disappeared.

The next day, William stormed home and demanded, "Melissa was finally starting to get better. Why did you have to upset her?"

Robert shoved me, scowling. "It's your fault! You made Annie cry!"

I pulled out the divorce papers and threw them in their faces. "You're right. It's all my fault. So I'm stepping aside—you four can be the perfect family."

The divorce papers had been printed barely half an hour earlier.

Before that, I had spent the entire night sitting on the living room couch.

On the dining table sat a dozen untouched dishes I had carefully prepared.

Even the Buzz Lightyear cake had turned into a melted mess.

Yesterday was Robert's birthday.

William had told me to stay home and get everything ready. He would bring Robert back to celebrate.

I waited for a long time, only to see Melissa's new post—a perfect family photo of four.

It was ridiculous.

William hadn't expected me to ask for a divorce. He frowned and tore the papers apart, his face dark with fury.

"What's this all about? I took Robert to visit Melissa and Anabelle and simply forgot to tell you. Is this really necessary?"

His eyes flickered toward the untouched food, and guilt flashed across his face.

He softened his tone. "Alright, I should've called you last night. That's my fault. I promise, this won't happen again.

"Go get some rest. I'll clean this up. Let's go out for lunch later."

It was his cruel routine—to hurt me first, then offer just enough warmth to keep me there.

He knew he had gone too far, but instead of apologizing, he would give me a small way out.

And if I didn't back down, he'd shut me out until I finally gave in.

I used to give in every time—but not this time.

I pulled out another copy of the divorce papers and tossed it on the coffee table. "I've printed dozens of them. Tear away as much as you like."

William slammed a cup to the floor, his patience snapping.

"Let's be honest, Jocelyn. You're just jealous that Robert likes Melissa more, aren't you?

"Don't forget—you owe her!

"Robert and I are taking care of her and Anabelle to make up for your mistakes!"

My mistakes? What did I do?

Melissa and I used to be best friends. In the summer of our junior year, she invited me out.

As night fell and it was time to go home, I wanted to take the main road, but she insisted on taking a shortcut. She said a friend was waiting for her at the end of the path.

So, we split up.

The next morning, William burst into my house and grabbed me by the collar.

He demanded to know why I hadn't called the police and why I hadn't helped Melissa.

I had no idea what he was talking about—until later, when I learned that Melissa had been raped by a group of thugs on that shortcut.

She claimed she had only gone that way to lure them away from me.

It was a lie.

I tried to explain, but no one believed me. With the street camera broken, I had no proof and ended up taking the blame.

Ever since that day, I became the villain in everyone's eyes.

My parents called me heartless. William accused me of being cold-blooded.

They poured the love they once had for me into Melissa, claiming it was to make up for her.

They even took Robert away, saying I was morally unfit to raise him.

That was why my bond with Robert had always been distant.

But I loved him. I had tried everything to close the distance between us.

I looked at Robert, and he stared back at me—his gaze cold, filled with something close to hatred.

"You ruined Dad and Meli's lives," he said flatly. "If it weren't for you, she would've been my mom."

My knees went weak, a sharp pain cutting through my chest. "Who told you that?"

Robert frowned. "Isn't it true?"

I turned to William.

For one foolish second, I hoped he would explain.

But he just looked away. "Robert thought that if that incident hadn't happened, Melissa would've been the one I married."

In the past, I would have asked him why he kept the truth from Robert.

He was MY childhood sweetheart and MY boyfriend! Melissa only met him through me...

But now, none of it mattered anymore.

Robert could think whatever he wanted. Soon, he wouldn't be my responsibility anyway.

I grabbed my suitcase and started to walk to the door. "Think it over. I'll see you at the courthouse."

William hadn't expected me to have already packed. He rushed over, trying to stop me.

Just then, the smart lock clicked open.

Moments later, Melissa walked in, holding Anabelle's hand.

I froze. She had access to our home.

I had told William countless times that I didn't want Melissa in this house.

She had slandered me and stolen everything from me. I hated her.

But clearly, William never cared what I wanted.

When Melissa saw me, her expression faltered for a second before softening into that familiar pitiful look. "Jojo..."

Beside her, Anabelle immediately hid behind her as if I were a monster, tears welling up. "Jocelyn, please don't hit my mom!"

I stared coldly at the innocent-looking ten-year-old girl.

But it was she who accused me of hitting Melissa at my parents' house on Thanksgiving night.

It was supposed to be the family reunion I had been waiting for all these years.

It was also the first time my parents had invited me home for the holiday since everything fell apart.

I tried so hard to make my parents love me again. But before I knew it, Melissa grabbed me, and we both tumbled down the stairs.

My leg was broken, but no one even looked my way.

Everyone ran straight to Melissa.

They surrounded her, comforting her as if she were the victim. I was crying, saying, "She pushed me!"

Melissa didn't deny it. She just lowered her head, eyes red, and said quietly, "If that's what Jojo says, then so be it."

Then, Anabelle started sobbing. She came down the stairs, her voice trembling. "Jocelyn, why did you push my mother?

"She didn't even want to come. Mr. and Mrs. Schultz insisted we join your family dinner.

"If you don't like us here, we can leave.

"But why did you have to push my mother?"

The moment she finished, Mom rushed over and slapped me hard across the face.

She looked at me with disgust. "I thought you had actually changed these past few years, but you're even more vicious than before!"

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

I sobbed as I explained that I hadn't pushed Melissa, but no one believed me.

Dad looked at me with disappointment written all over his face. "Would a child that young lie about something like this?"

William clenched his fists and said coldly, "Jocelyn, you're beyond saving."

Robert walked over and kicked my injured leg. The pain shot through me, and I screamed.

No one cared. Watching me in pain seemed to make them feel better, as if they were finally avenging someone.

They didn't have to say a word. The look on every face said it all—"You deserved it."

Robert glared at me. "You're a terrible mother. I hate you."

***

That day, I limped out of the house in tears.

Even now, I can still remember the searing pain of that night—both in my leg and in my heart.

Back then, I wanted to divorce William.

But he calmly tore up the papers and said, "Jojo, don't you get it? No one loves you anymore except me."

I stood there in shock, wondering if that could be true. Did he really love me?

He saw my hesitation and sneered. "If I didn't love you, why would I keep tolerating everything you've done?

"Jojo, your parents don't want you anymore. They've decided to take Melissa in as their goddaughter.

"So be good, stay with me, and help me make things right with Melissa, okay?"

That night, I gave in as I was desperate for love.

I was terrified that no one in this world would ever love me, and that once this home was gone, I'd be left like an orphan—drifting aimlessly with nowhere to belong.

I didn't want to be an unwanted and unloved woman.

So, I learned to compromise. I learned to endure.

I stopped defending myself, letting William and Robert ignore me, all under the excuse of "making amends" to Melissa and Anabelle.

But my silence never earned me peace.

The memories still sting, and my thoughts were broken when Robert suddenly rushed past me.

He pushed me aside and ran to Anabelle, grabbing her hand. "Don't be scared, Anabelle. With Dad and me here, no one's going to hurt you or Meli."

Then he turned back to me, his voice sharp. "If you ever hurt them, I'll stop calling you my mom."

Anabelle looked up at him with a soft, obedient expression. "Robbie, don't be mean to Jocelyn..."

Then she turned to me, forcing a sweet, pitiful smile. "Jocelyn, I know you don't like me and my mom.

"But we're not like you. We have nothing left. Could you please not kick us out?"

Of course. Like mother, like daughter. Both born manipulators, pure and practiced.

I smiled faintly. "How could you say you have nothing? This house will be yours soon."

Anabelle was still a child. She was too young to fully hide her emotions.

When she heard that this house would soon be theirs, her eyes lit up. "Really?" she asked excitedly.

Melissa quickly grabbed her arm, flustered. "Anabelle, don't say things like that!

"This is Jocelyn's home."

Then she turned to me, eyes reddening, her voice trembling with just the right amount of sadness. "Jocelyn, I never meant to come between you and Willie.

"I'll leave right now. Please don't be upset."

The moment she said that, William rushed over and grabbed Melissa's arm.

She stumbled into his arms, and he instinctively held her.

But when our eyes met, he quickly pulled his hands back, guilt flashing across his face.

Melissa's expression darkened for an instant before she replaced it with a look of wounded innocence. "Willie, don't try to stop me. We're the ones intruding here anyway."

Tears welled up in her eyes again, making her look like a fragile white lily about to wilt.

Anabelle threw herself into Melissa's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. "Mom, please don't cry. It's my fault! If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have to suffer so much."

I watched the scene unfold, my face cold. Honestly, if these two ever joined the film industry, they would win awards in no time.

William, of course, looked at them with pity.

His expression was full of tenderness. The more sympathy he felt, the angrier he became. He turned to me, his tone sharp. "Jocelyn, I was the one who asked them to stay here.

"Melissa's apartment has a water leak, and it'll take a few days to fix.

"Our villa is spacious, so I told them to stay for a while.

"I thought this would be a good chance for you two to mend things.

"But I didn't expect you to be so hostile toward them.

"Anabelle's just a kid. How could you be so heartless and make her cry?"

I didn't want to waste another word on William, but his sheer stupidity was becoming unbearable.

I sneered. "William, if your eyesight's gone bad, maybe you should see a doctor.

"From the moment they walked in, I've said exactly one sentence.

"And yet, you've all managed to spin an entire drama out of it. Honestly, the Nobel Prize in Literature is missing out on you.

"Besides, I'm moving out. Do you really think I care who you let stay here?"

William froze, staring at me, uncertain whether I truly didn't care or if I was just trying to provoke him.

It wasn't until I shoved past him, dragging my suitcase out the door without looking back, that he finally realized I might actually mean it this time.

Because I was no longer fighting for this home.

His mind flashed back to six months ago, when Melissa was in a car accident.

After she was discharged, Anabelle told him she was scared being home alone with just her mom.

So William thought it would be a good idea to have them stay in our villa.

When I found out, I smashed everything in the house and told him that if he dared to let Melissa move in, I would throw myself off the balcony.

He backed off.

But after that, he refused to speak to me for three whole months.

It wasn't until Robert was hospitalized for an allergic reaction and I had to beg to visit him that William finally softened. That truce marked the start of our so-called reconciliation.

But after that, I was never the same.

I became quiet and obedient. Even more so than after my fall down the stairs.

William actually felt proud of it.

He thought he had finally "tamed" me. He never realized that was when my love for him began to die, piece by piece, until there was nothing left.

William was about to chase after me when Melissa suddenly screamed.

He turned around to see Anabelle limp in Melissa's arms.

"Willie! What's wrong with her?" Melissa cried.

Robert grabbed William's sleeve, panicking. "Dad, hurry! Take Anabelle to the hospital!"

Neither of them spared a thought for the mother who had just walked out.

Without hesitation, William scooped Anabelle up and ran out the door.

Outside, he realized it had started snowing.

The sudden blizzard made it impossible for me to hail a cab.

Our villa was in a remote part of town, so I had no choice but to walk, dragging my suitcase through the snow.

William's car stopped in front of me. The window rolled down, and he frowned. "Get in."

I ignored him.

He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. "Jocelyn, how long are you going to keep this up?"

Just then, his phone rang. Mom's voice came through, sharp and cold. "Jocelyn, if you keep causing trouble, don't call me your mother ever again."

I smiled faintly, my voice calm. "You don't have to worry about that. You stopped being my mother a long time ago."

William drove off in anger, taking with him Mom's hysterical screaming.

As the car passed, I caught a glimpse of Melissa's smug expression through the window.

She thought she had won.

Once again, I was abandoned by everyone and left like some pathetic, unwanted stray.

But honestly, I didn't care anymore.

My parents, William, and Robert—she could have them all if she wanted.

At least, that was what I told myself. But maybe it was the nature of misery; when one was in a dark place, the bad memories came flooding back on their own, until they filled every corner of one's mind.

I wanted to cry, not out of heartbreak, but just to release everything building up inside.

But I didn't dare. My skin was already stinging from the cold; if I cried, my tears would only make it worse.

So I kept walking, step by uneven step, until my feet went numb and my mind blanked out completely.

When I finally found some shelter from the snow and managed to flag down a cab, the driver's car suddenly skidded as it stopped—slamming right into me.

It wasn't a hard hit, but I fell face-first into the snow. After standing in the blizzard for so long, my body gave out. The cold sank into my bones, and everything went black.

When I woke up, my entire body ached as if I had been run over.

My head pounded, my eyelids felt heavy, and my skin burned hot. My throat felt like it was on fire.

I forced my eyes open and saw a young man sitting beside the bed, his face clean-cut and gentle.

My voice came out hoarse. "Where am I?"

He looked up, relief washing over his face. "You're awake! Thank goodness!

"You're in the hospital. You've had a high fever, and you've been unconscious for two days."

He leaned in a little too close, his breath warm against my cheek, tickling my skin.

It had been a long time since I had been this close to a man. Instinctively, I frowned and pulled back.

He quickly straightened up, his ears turning red, then began explaining what happened.

His name was Brandon Burnett. His father was sick, so to earn extra money, he drove for a ride-hailing service whenever he wasn't working.

He said he had been careful that night, but the icy road caused the car to skid out of control.

Thankfully, I wasn't seriously hurt. I had only a sprained wrist.

But the doctor said I was severely anemic, hypoglycemic, and running a high fever. Worried it might turn into pneumonia, the doctor had kept me under observation, and Brandon had stayed by my side the entire time.

I looked at him. He had a gentle, almost boyish face. Those big, clear eyes of his were especially striking, untouched by the world's cynicism.

Then I glanced at his coat. It was nothing flashy, but tailored and expensive enough that it didn't match his "struggling driver" story. I couldn't help thinking, "If he's going to lie, he should at least try harder."

But I didn't call him out on his lie. On the contrary, I was actually grateful he stayed with me.

I said softly, "Thank you. But you don't have to keep me company. You can just call the insurance company and let them handle it."

He scratched his head and admitted honestly, "That's what I was going to do at first.

"But the police and the doctors couldn't reach any of your family, so... I came along to make sure you were okay."

So that was the case.

Of course, they couldn't reach anyone. Those people were probably too busy fussing over that manipulative woman and Anabelle to care about me.

Just then, my phone started ringing.

Brandon picked it up and showed me the screen. The caller ID read "Honey."

He looked surprised. I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was—what kind of husband lets his wife lie in a hospital bed for two days without checking on her?

I wanted to tell him not to answer, but before I could, he had already pressed the button and even turned on the speaker.

William's voice came through, cold and impatient. "Jocelyn, where have you been the last two days?"

I rolled my eyes, too tired to respond to his stupidity.

His tone hardened. "I don't care where you are. Get back here right now and apologize to Melissa and Anabelle!

"Do you even realize what you've done? The doctor said Anabelle still suffers from psychological trauma because of what happened years ago. Any emotional shock can cause her to faint!

"You hurt Melissa, and now you've hurt Anabelle too. Don't you feel any guilt at all?"

I frowned in disgust, still refusing to say a word. But William kept going, oblivious. "Your parents are here too. They said if you kneel and apologize to Melissa, they'll forgive you.

"You've always wanted to make things right with them, haven't you? This is your chance. Don't miss it or you'll regret it forever."

I let out a cold laugh, just as Brandon spoke up before I could. "She can't come back. She's dead. Her body's at the morgue.

"Maybe you should go take a look before they turn her into ashes and there's nothing left for you to claim."

Brandon's words startled me so much I nearly jumped out of bed.

On the other end of the line, William's voice shot up in fury. "What did you just say? Who the hell are you?"

But Brandon had already hung up and even powered off my phone.

When I glared at him, he gave me an awkward smile. "I didn't mean to say you were dead. I just couldn't stand how ridiculous your husband sounded.

"His wife is lying in a hospital bed after a car accident, and he's nowhere to be found.

"No one can reach him, but when he finally does call you, he doesn't even ask if you're okay.

"Honestly, you've got terrible taste in men."

I gave a bitter laugh. "Not just in men. My judgment of parents, and even friends, is pretty awful too."

And my child... he turned out no better.

Pushing down the ache in my chest, I asked softly, "Can you order me some lunch?"

I hadn't eaten since last night and was starting to feel weak.

Brandon immediately pulled out his phone. "What do you want? I'll get you anything."

I didn't have much of an appetite. "Just some oatmeal is fine."

He frowned. "The doctor said you're malnourished. You can't just have oatmeal.

"Forget it. I'll pick something for you."

I was stunned for a moment. The only person who had shown me any genuine care lately was a complete stranger.

"Thank you," I said softly. "But if you're busy, you can go. I'll be fine on my own."

He shook his head. "No way. You're in the hospital because of me. I have to take responsibility."

I wanted to argue, but his phone rang, and he stepped out to answer it. I decided to let it go.

Evening came. After dinner, Brandon poured me a glass of water. I reached into my bag for my medication, but before I could take it, he snatched the pills from my hand.

He frowned, staring at the label. His expression darkened. "This is... sertraline?"

I froze, surprised that he recognized it.

Then embarrassment hit me hard. It felt like a long-hidden secret had just been dragged into the light.

I forced a light smile. "You seem to know quite a bit."

But the usual playfulness on Brandon's face was gone. He studied me carefully. "You... have depression?"

I nodded and quietly swallowed the pill.

I had been battling depression for years, and it was only getting worse.

Just then, the door burst open. William rushed in, his expression tight with worry.

He gripped my shoulders, scanning me from head to toe. Only when he confirmed I was unharmed did he finally exhale. "Honey, you scared me half to death."

I looked at him calmly.

Once, seeing him this anxious about me would have warmed my heart. But now, all I saw was hypocrisy.

Melissa walked in behind him. Her gaze landed on Brandon, and I could see the scheming flicker in her eyes.

She put on a look of concern and said softly, "Jojo, even if you're mad at us, you shouldn't have let someone lie that you were dead.

"You have no idea. Willie went to the morgue looking for you. He was frantic.

"Thank goodness you're okay. But that friend of yours went way too far. Who jokes about something like that?"

Her words darkened William's expression.

He turned toward Brandon, hostility radiating off him. "Who are you? Why did you tell me my wife was dead?"

Brandon's eyes swept over the two of them, his tone calm but dripping with contempt. "If you paid the slightest attention to her, you would have known she was in a car accident and in the hospital."

William's hand tightened around mine, guilt flashing across his face. "I'm sorry. I really didn't know."

I pulled my hand free, my voice cold. "It's fine. My ex-husband doesn't need to know about something this trivial."