Chapter 1 Love Dies With One Final Snap Teresa Sullivan returned to Brocade Villa at 10 pm. The full moon marked her ovulation day, the 15th. Ever since her daughter Yolanda Logan was born, her in-laws had been pressuring her for another child.

Most women would have laughed it off, saying there was no throne to inherit. But the Logans were different. As Riverdale's wealthiest family, their billion-dollar empire demanded a male heir.

When Teresa stepped into the bedroom, her husband, Charles Logan, was already showered and ready. No pleasantries, no small talk, they went straight to business.

Three minutes later, Charles went to the bathroom. When he returned, Teresa remained still in bed. He dressed with his back to her, tossing the words over his shoulder, "Test on schedule. Call me if it's positive."

For five years, he had always treated her with such bare minimum of speech. Their marriage existed only on paper, while Charles openly maintained his relationship with his mistress.

Teresa spent sleepless nights combing through his social media, tracing every digital footprint until she found the other woman's profile. Since then, she checked it compulsively, like picking at a scab that would never heal.

Before the second-child plan, Teresa could hardly see Charles in person. She could only track her husband's life through the other woman's posts: lavish meals, exotic vacations, birthday celebrations. Now they met exactly once a month, like clockwork.

Knowing Charles was eager to leave, Teresa quickly stood up. "Wait," she said, her voice catching. "We need to talk." Her hands clenched at her sides as she stared at his back.

Charles slowly turned, his face a mask of cold indifference. "About what?" he asked, the words sharp as broken glass.

Teresa's voice dropped to a whisper. "I want to make this work," she pleaded, knowing deep down it was probably too late. But she had to try. She had fought too hard for this marriage, for their family. Their daughter deserved better than failed parents.

Charles showed no reaction. Teresa couldn't tell if he hadn't heard or was deliberately ignoring her. He finished buttoning his shirt, fastened his watch, and headed for the door without a word.

This time, Teresa stayed by the bed. No desperate hugs. No pleading for him to stay. The old habits had died quietly.

Just as Charles reached for the doorknob, Teresa's composure shattered. "You only come to Brocade Villa once a month," she cried, her voice cracking. "No calls. No meals together. We're complete strangers. Tell me, Charles, what kind of marriage even is this?"

Charles stopped, turning just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes stayed dry as hers overflowed. "When you're carrying my son," he said flatly, "I'll return." The door clicked shut behind him. Teresa didn't move. For the first time, she let him walk away.

She had poured her whole heart into this marriage. The birth of their daughter nearly killed her, with doctors issuing three critical warnings during her amniotic fluid embolism. Still, she had been willing to risk death again for a son. Now, standing alone in their empty bedroom, she started to wonder whether this sacrifice meant anything.

After her shower, Teresa automatically grabbed her phone and opened the video app. The "Frequently Viewed" list showed just one account named YatesDaily, with its cheerful profile picture.

A new post had gone up two minutes ago. The video displayed two shadowy figures under a streetlight, holding hands with matching bracelets. The caption read, [Two shadows under the light. One is mine. The other is also mine.]

Her heart wrenched a bit, but quietly now. Where there once was a hurricane, only ripples remained. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to the feeling. These days, their meetings always ended the same way with Charles rushing off to see the other woman.

But when the emotion faded, she clung to one certainty. As long as Charles needed her to bear his heir, no one could replace her as Mrs. Logan. But this hollow marriage was a bitter pill she had to keep swallowing day after lonely day.

****

A month later, on a chilly Tuesday evening, Teresa rushed into Brocade Villa, the still-warm pregnancy test report crumpled in her sweaty palm. Her heart pounded, not from running but from the two bold lines that changed everything. Tonight, she would finally have news worth celebrating.

As Teresa stepped into the living room, her mother-in-law's sharp voice cut through the air, freezing her in the doorway. "Charles, you're 32," Roselyn Lockwood said. "Five years married and only one daughter. Meeting your wife once a month? How's she supposed to get pregnant like that? If it's really not working, let your mistress try. Any boy with Logan blood will do."

Charles immediately rejected the idea, "That's not acceptable." Teresa stepped back, hiding in the shadows. For a brief moment, her heart fluttered, because Charles was standing up for her. After all, she remained his lawful wife, regardless of his affairs. But then his tone shifted, clinical and cold, "Remember her embolism during Yolanda's birth?"

Roselyn's face darkened. "And who brought this curse into our home? The Logans never had such shame before." Her voice rose to a shrill pitch. "Other wives pop out babies like it's nothing. But our precious Teresa? One birth and we're the talk of the town for days. Humiliating!"

Charles completely ignored his mother's complaints. Instead, he explained, "Childbirth is dangerous. Teresa has already been through it once. She can handle the risk. But Naomi is still young. I can't let her take that chance."

Teresa stood rooted outside the door, shock coursing through her like electricity. She felt sad, but the tears wouldn't come.

Knowing Charles had betrayed her and that their marriage was broken, she still had clung to the naive hope that a second child might bind him to her and that the Logan name would protect her. Now reality struck, colder and harsher than she had ever dreamed.

It turned out, to Charles, she was just a womb for his heir. He had forgotten how she sank into darkness after Yolanda's birth, how the sight of blood made her tremble, how doctors fought to keep her alive. He fretted over the other woman's safety in childbirth, never realizing Teresa's risk was far deadlier.

The voices inside the room gradually became distant echoes. Teresa's lips twisted in a bitter smile. She had nearly died giving the Logans a daughter, yet Charles sowed his betrayals like seeds. Clutching the pregnancy report, she thought maybe it was time to end it all.

Today was their scheduled conception day, but the ritual now felt hollow. It turned out love died not with a slow fade, but with one final snap. At this moment, there was also no reason to keep the child in her belly. If no one else cared about her life, at least she should do that for herself.

As Teresa turned to leave, their housekeeper Barbara Davis noticed her, "Mrs. Logan, you're back already?" Teresa forced a smile, thinking perhaps today was finally the day to mention divorce.

Chapter 2 I'm Done Teresa hid the pregnancy test report before walking into the living room. The conversation between Roselyn and Charles abruptly stopped when she appeared. Breaking her usual routine, Teresa didn't even bother with greetings as she entered.

Before she had foolishly believed that being the perfect wife and daughter-in-law would make her husband finally see her worth. But life had taught her a cruel lesson.

Even if she ripped out her own heart and offered it to the Logans, they wouldn't spare her a glance. Five years of sacrificing everything for this marriage had left her with nothing. It was time to stop that now.

Charles knew exactly why he had come home today. He gave Barbara a pointed look and ordered, "Barbara, show Teresa out." The whole time, Teresa stood silently in the corner, but her eyes had turned ice-cold.

Charles was the capable head of Logan Group, running everything with perfect precision. He treated his elders with respect, stood by his friends through thick and thin, managed his team with fairness, and showed genuine care for all his employees.

Everyone who knew Charles spoke of him with admiration. Their mutual friends often joked that Teresa must have performed miracles in her past life to be married to such a man.

But his kindness never reached his own wife. After five years of marriage, Teresa finally understood the painful truth. This cold, empty marriage was not what she wanted anymore.

As Roselyn passed by Teresa, she suddenly stopped and said with icy contempt, "If you can't produce a male heir, you'll never be a true Logan."

Before, Teresa would have swallowed such words quietly. But those days were over. She met Roselyn's gaze, all former obedience gone from her eyes. "Roselyn, we're both women," she shot back. "Since when is the baby's gender just my fault?"

Roselyn had always treated Teresa like a meek little mouse she could push around. This sudden defiance caught her off guard, but she wasn't about to tolerate it. Her hand shot out, the slap cracking like a whip across Teresa's cheek. "You dare talk back to me?" she snapped. "On your knees. Now."

There was something almost brutal in her expression, laced with the confidence that Teresa would crumble under her dominance. She knew Teresa loved Charles enough to sacrifice dignity, cast off pride, and even debase herself as a servant for the Logans.

But now, Teresa refused to just swallow her pain. Since the Logans had never valued her sacrifices or even her life, she wouldn't yield to them any more. Her eyes hardened as they met Roselyn's. Without a word, she stepped forward, raising her hand to swing.

But before her slap could reach Roselyn, a large hand shot out and caught her wrist. At the same time, a deep, reprimanding voice growled in her ear, "Teresa, do you really need to make things worse?"

Teresa raised her head, meeting Charles's sharply defined features. His icy gaze prickled against her skin like needles. This was the face that had once driven her wild with obsession, but now, as she studied it closely, a quiet revulsion stirred within her.

'How can anyone be this heartless? Being ignored, cheated on and treated like trash, I could live with that. But regarding me as some baby-making machine? Demanding another child like my life means nothing? That would kill me.' Just thinking about it made her sick.

When she was about to say something, Charles suddenly flung her hand away with force and said coldly, "I'm not in the mood today. Ask me again next month." With that, he took Roselyn's arm and walked out.

Roselyn glanced back with a smug look that said it all, 'Of course he would choose me. You were never family.'

Before, Teresa would've crumbled when Charles took his mother's side. But now, she felt nothing. No tears. No hurt. Just empty silence.

As Charles was leaving the hall, Teresa suddenly called out, "Charles." She always kept her word. Now that she had decided on divorce, nothing would stop her, just like when she had stubbornly married him despite her family's strong objections.

Eight years of loving Charles had drained her completely. He never valued her, never tried to make their marriage work. The only reason he married her is she got pregnant, and he felt forced to do the right thing. Their marriage was a grave, but Teresa was the only one buried alive. She should have woken up years ago.

Charles stopped at the doorway. Teresa thought he was listening to her. Drawing a steady breath, she finally said what she had held back for years, "I'm done. Let's end this." The words lifted a weight she had carried far too long.

But Charles abruptly raised his phone to his ear. She caught only his hurried response, "Got it. On my way." Without even glancing back, he ushered Roselyn out of Brocade Villa, leaving Teresa's declaration hanging in the air.

As his figure vanished, Teresa finally let out a hollow laugh. Her words, her moment of courage, meant nothing to him.

Barbara came back from seeing them off and was startled to find Teresa still frozen in the middle of the living room, as if turned to stone by some ancient curse. "Mrs. Logan?" she called out cautiously, taking a hesitant step forward.

Suddenly snapping back to reality, Teresa numbly walked to the sofa and sank down. "Barbara," she said, her voice hollow, "make me dinner."

For years she had done everything herself, surviving on the crumbs of Charles's attention. His rare visits had been enough to sustain her foolish hope, but now she knew better.

A bitter smile touched her lips as she remembered she had once been her family's treasured youngest daughter, so fiercely protected that she had never needed to lift a finger for anything.

After dinner, Teresa went straight to the study and drew up divorce papers. The Sullivans were well-off, and as a pediatrician, she could easily provide for Yolanda. But five years of silent suffering had earned her nothing but a cold, indifferent husband. So she made it clear that Charles would surrender half of their marital assets, plus 700,000 monthly in child support.

Teresa stopped writing when she got to the part about Yolanda. She didn't know who her daughter would choose to live with. Realizing she had to ask Yolanda first, she picked up the unfinished divorce papers and left Brocade Villa right away.

After Yolanda's birth, Charles purchased Joyacre Villa for his daughter. Teresa had been Yolanda's full-time caregiver for four years before resuming her hospital work. But as her professional responsibilities grew, she found fewer opportunities to be with her daughter.

Over the past six months, she had been doing specialized training at a major regional hospital in the neighboring city. The only times she had seen Charles recently were when her foolish heart hoped another baby might anchor her drifting husband.

She was always busy, but still swapped shifts with coworkers, working three straight overnight shifts just to see Charles. It never entered her mind that she couldn't have another baby by herself. If she was too busy, Charles could have come to her. But he always chose the other woman instead.

A little after nine in the evening, Teresa took a taxi to Joyacre Villa. As she was getting out of the car, her phone showed a new video notification from YatesDaily, one of her regularly watched accounts.

Chapter 3 Yolanda Chooses The Other Teresa didn't mean to watch, but force of habit made her tap the video. There was just one photo of Charles crouching before Naomi Yates. Underneath it read, [Had some wine, caught a chill. Called and you came. Having you here means everything.]

Teresa's chest tightened at the image. 'If they're so in love, maybe I should step aside. Just give me my daughter and my fair share of the assets in the divorce. That's all I need.' She pocketed her phone and walked into the living room.

Sharon Miller, the long-time housekeeper at Joyacre Villa, looked up in surprise when Teresa entered. "Mrs. Logan," she said after a brief hesitation, "Miss Yolanda's in her playroom upstairs with those Barbies she loves so much."

Sharon barely finished speaking when Yolanda's excited voice rang out from above, "Mommy?" Teresa's heart ached. It had been weeks since she held her daughter. She dashed upstairs, scooping Yolanda into her arms and sinking to her knees to cover Yolanda's face with kisses.

When Teresa finally drew back to speak, she saw Yolanda furiously rubbing her face. The sight choked Teresa's words before they could form. Tears welled as she stared at her daughter, her heart in turmoil.

"Mommy, you're just in time," Yolanda blurted out before Teresa could speak. "I was gonna call you. For kindergarten, I want East Street Preschool." Her whole face lit up at the words.

Teresa didn't understand why, but seeing Yolanda so excited, she couldn't say no. After all, it was only kindergarten. They could change schools later if needed. "Okay," she smiled, "East Street Preschool then." Yolanda immediately started jumping up and down with delight.

Teresa watched Yolanda's joyful face, her own words suddenly stuck in her throat. Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her belly. Then, meeting Yolanda's eyes, she asked quietly, "Sweetheart, would you want a baby brother or sister?"

Yolanda shifted impatiently from foot to foot, clearly wanting to go back to her room, but she paused to consider the question. After a moment, she nodded decisively. "Okay," she said, "then I want a brother."

A sharp pain shot through Teresa's heart. With teary eyes, she asked, "What if Mommy is scared?" Though the physical danger was gone, her hands still trembled as she remembered those terrifying hours after Yolanda's birth. The blood, the rushing doctors, the fear she might never hold her baby.

Yolanda tilted her head, studying Teresa's worried face with surprising seriousness. "Then don't be selfish, Mommy," she said. "You weren't scared to have me, right?"

Teresa went completely still, her face turning pale as if struck by lightning. She stood frozen for what felt like ages, lips trembling before she managed to whisper, "Don't you care if you lose Mommy forever?"

For four long years, Teresa had shouldered every parenting duty by herself, waking for midnight feedings, singing soft lullabies, tending to every cry and need. In all that time, she couldn't remember a single uninterrupted night's sleep. Now, after all that sacrifice, she just wondered if her little girl still loved her.

Yolanda's nose scrunched in annoyance. "I'm sleepy now," she declared. Before Teresa could react, Yolanda had scampered off, her bedroom door slamming shut. Left alone on the stairs, Teresa stood frozen, a hollow chill spreading through her chest.

Soon, Yolanda's excited voice drifted from the bedroom. "Miss Naomi, I'm going to East Street Preschool! You can pick me up after work. It's right near your office. And no babies for you and Daddy, okay? Mommy says it's dangerous. She has done it before with me, so she can do it again. I really miss your bedtime stories and your hugs."

Teresa stood outside the bedroom door, her chest aching as she remembered how Yolanda had wiped away her kisses earlier. She had believed that no matter what happened with Charles, her daughter would always be hers. Yet now Yolanda was pushing her away too, just like what her father had done.

Teresa finally realized all her sacrifices and efforts were nothing but a joke. No one cared about what she had endured. Moving like a sleepwalker, she made her way downstairs. Sharon reached out when she saw Teresa's hollow expression, but got only a silent wave in reply.

As soon as Teresa stepped out of Joyacre Villa, she pulled out her phone and called Charles. Ring after ring went unanswered. Usually she would hang up after a few tries, but tonight she kept hitting redial like a madwoman. When Charles finally answered, his voice was clipped, "I'm busy. If this is important—"

Charles hadn't finished speaking when Teresa's voice cut in, sharp as glass shards, "Meet me. Now." The calm demand erupted into raw screams. Charles's face darkened at her outburst.

When Teresa finally calmed down, Charles replied in an icy tone, "Whatever it is, we'll talk next month." The line went dead before Teresa could respond, leaving her clutching the silent phone.

This was classic Charles, cutting her off, leaving her screaming into the void. Five years of this had hollowed her out. Divorce was the only way.

But she would fight tooth and nail for Yolanda. Even if Yolanda seemed to favor Naomi now, those countless nights soothing a fussy baby still meant something. That bond couldn't be broken so easily.

Teresa had just made up her mind when a Rolls Royce came to a sudden stop at the villa gates. Through the windshield, she saw Charles behind the wheel and Naomi Yates sitting beside him, a bouquet of flowers in her hands.

Charles met Teresa's gaze through the glass, the air between them thick with silence. In the past, Teresa was too afraid to confront Naomi's presence. Now, she couldn't even bring herself to care.

After an agonizing silence, Charles finally stepped out of the car. Ignoring Teresa completely, he moved to open the door for Naomi. But Teresa called out sharply, "Charles. We need to talk."

Charles kept moving, his hand already on the door handle. Teresa seized his wrist and forced it down. "Sleep with every woman in this city if you want," she spat through clenched teeth, "but that mistress of yours stays away from my daughter."

At last, Charles looked at her. His gaze was cold, his voice low and dismissive, "Naomi would make a better mother than you." With that, he pushed past her and opened the car door.

Teresa stood rooted to the spot, the cruel meaning dawning on her. 'Did he just say Naomi should be Yolanda's mother?'

Chapter 4 Bad Mommy The car door opened. Charles held it with one hand and reached out to Naomi with the other. Their hands touched just as Teresa turned around. She should have felt hurt seeing this, but instead she was calm.

Perhaps she had finally understood everything. That was why she could stand there so quietly now. She would've cried her heart out before. But now, all she could think was confronting Charles. "Charles," she said, her lips trembling, voice unsteady, "what exactly did you mean by that?"

Naomi stepped out of the car, her hand still tucked in Charles's arm. Their long shadows blended together under the moonlight. Charles acted as if he hadn't heard Teresa, leading Naomi toward Joyacre Villa instead.

Teresa had lost track of how many times she had been ignored like this. Her heart had taken too many blows already. But when it came to her daughter, she couldn't back down. Before she knew it, she had grabbed Charles's wrist with surprising force. "Charles!" Her voice cut through the night. "You owe me an explanation."

Charles finally stopped and turned, his gaze icy. With a quick twist, he freed his wrist effortlessly. "You're busy with work," he said coldly, "and Yolanda's still young. She needs care. When you're pregnant again, Naomi will take care of Yolanda." That was Charles, always deciding things alone, declaring them like orders, not discussions.

But this time, Teresa refused to accept his unilateral decision. When she had first planned her training in the neighboring city, she had personally chosen a nanny for Yolanda. Only last month did she learn Charles had fired the nanny a long time ago. During her half-year absence, Naomi had moved into Joyacre Villa, where the three of them had been living together as a happy family.

Teresa had always avoided making scenes, clinging to the faint hope that Charles still respected her as his wife. But now, even her daughter was being taken from her. She couldn't simply walk away.

When it came to Yolanda's care, Teresa's calm finally broke. "I can raise my own child," she said, her voice shaking. "We don't need any outsiders."

Charles brushed aside Teresa's protests like they were nothing. "The matter is decided," he stated flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Teresa's patience finally snapped. "I said I'll take care of my own daughter!" Her voice rang out, sharper than she had ever allowed herself to sound before.

The air grew thick with tension. Noticing the rising conflict, Naomi, who had been quietly standing behind Charles, gently stepped in, "Charles, maybe you two should talk this out? I'll go see how Yolanda is doing." She waited for Charles's approving nod before heading back toward Joyacre Villa.

Just then, Teresa's sharp command stopped her, "Naomi, stay right there." The instant Naomi glanced back, Teresa's hand flew out, a loud slap landing across her face.

Charles immediately pushed Teresa away and wrapped Naomi protectively in his arms. "Did she hurt you?" he asked urgently, examining the red mark blooming on her cheek.

Naomi covered her stinging face, tears springing to her eyes with picture-perfect timing, the very image of wronged innocence.

Charles was worried about Naomi. But Teresa felt no guilt. No decent woman would meddle this deeply with a married man. Then again, it took two to tango. Charles bore equal blame. Just as Teresa opened her mouth to say something, a small figure came sprinting from Joyacre Villa.

Yolanda came running in a hurry, her small feet bare on the ground. The moment she got close, she threw herself at Naomi, wrapping both arms tightly around Naomi's legs. Her wide eyes brimmed with concern as she looked up. "Miss Naomi, does it hurt?" she whispered, voice quivering.

Yolanda was getting ready for bed when she saw her father's car pull up through the window. Spotting him returning with Miss Naomi, she bolted downstairs. She reached the doorway just as Teresa's slap landed. Without a second thought, she ran to them, leaving her shoes behind in her hurry.

Teresa stood rooted to the spot, watching her husband and daughter comfort this outsider. A sharp pain shot through her chest. She could practically hear her heart breaking. But what hurt most was seeing the little rose she had raised now pricking her with its thorns. Her hand shook as she reached out, her voice cracking, "Yolanda."

Teresa barely got the name out when Yolanda spun around, face flushed with anger. The next instant, Yolanda flew at Teresa, small fists beating against Teresa's thighs. "Bad Mommy! Bad Mommy!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with rage. "Why would you hurt Miss Naomi? I hate you!"

Teresa stood frozen, her face going pale in an instant. The realization hit her like a physical blow. Everything she had fought for in the custody battle had been nothing but her own foolish fantasy.

Neither her husband nor her daughter wanted her anymore. In that moment, she became the punchline of her own life's cruel joke. But the most painful part was that she carried another child for a man who had never loved her.

Teresa barely noticed how long Yolanda kept hitting her, when it stopped, or what else the little girl screamed. Those two words "Bad Mommy" had killed every bit of hope left. Numb, she stood frozen for a long moment. Then she let out a hollow laugh and walked away, without even glancing at Charles or Yolanda.

Behind her, Charles and Yolanda kept huddling around Naomi, never noticing Teresa's departure. As she rounded the corner, she stole one final look back at the two people who had been her whole world for five years.

Charles held Naomi's right hand while Yolanda clung to her left as they walked together, the three of them forming the very image of a loving family returning home.

Teresa's lips quivered into a semblance of a smile, all her sorrow trapped inside. She longed to weep, but the tears refused to surface. These five years had sucked her dry. Never again would she burn herself to light their way.

She walked away from Joyacre Villa alone, step by step replaying the past five years in her mind. Somewhere inside, she had always known this relationship was eating her alive. She just couldn't admit it. But now her eyes were open. From this moment on, she would put herself first.

Teresa took a cab back to Brocade Villa. In the study, she prepared a new divorce agreement, stating that all assets would be divided equally and that she would not seek custody of their daughter. She placed the signed papers neatly on the desk, and then drove through the night back to the neighboring city.

****

After a night's rest, Teresa went to the hospital early. The doctor on duty was her old college friend, Sylvia Morris, who knew some of Teresa's marital troubles.

When Sylvia heard Teresa's decision to end the pregnancy, she was shocked. "This baby didn't come easy," Sylvia said. "Why let go now? Even if things are bad between you, you can keep the baby without the man."

Teresa met Sylvia's gaze steadily, her voice firm. "Sylvia, a woman's true strength lies in making responsible choices about motherhood. What's more, my life matters too. The surgery will be this morning. This is my final decision."

The Teresa of the past no longer existed. From this moment forward, she would reserve her love for herself and those who genuinely cared for her. Those who failed to love her deserved no place in her life.

Chapter 5 That Chapter Has Closed When Teresa woke up, she found herself in a hospital bed. Sylvia checked on her and said, "Stay two more days before discharge. Then get proper rest at home." Teresa nodded. She had decided to take a full month off. Her body mattered, and she would treat it right.

After Sylvia left, Teresa checked her phone. The screen showed no missed calls from Charles. Clearly, last night had meant nothing to him. But for Teresa, everything had changed. This painful realization finally freed her from endless emotional exhaustion and struggle.

Out of habit, she opened the video app. Naomi's post appeared first, with a subtle suggestion that they might know each other. The video showed Naomi holding a child's hand. Even from behind, Teresa recognized Yolanda instantly. The caption simply read, [It feels good to be needed.] The familiar backdrop was unmistakably Joyacre Villa's living room.

Teresa's lips twitched in automatic response, the ghost of a smile flickering briefly. Then she pressed down on the post and selected Not Interested. No longer would she be a silent witness to their lives. That chapter had closed for good.

****

After leaving the hospital, Teresa hired a live-in caregiver. She followed her doctor's advice carefully, resting at home for a full month. When the recovery period ended, she paid the caregiver. Then she changed into a simple dress, applied light makeup, and drove straight to Riverdale.

It was the 15th, their usual day to try for another baby. Teresa never really enjoyed being with Charles. He always rushed through it, eager to get back to Naomi. But tonight wasn't about having a child. Tonight, she would seriously tell him she wanted a divorce.

Teresa reached Brocade Villa around 7 pm. Seeing her arrival, Barbara quickly set about making dinner. After the meal, Teresa headed upstairs to the study. On the desk sat the divorce papers, completely untouched, just like she had left them last month. Clearly, Charles hadn't come home the entire time.

Teresa waited until past 9 pm, growing impatient. Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside. But when the door opened, it was only Barbara. "Mrs. Logan, Mr. Logan just called. He said he's busy tonight and won't be back. He told you to come back next month instead."

Teresa laughed bitterly. She came back this month, but she wouldn't be coming next month. She was tired of being chained to this marriage. After a short pause, she stood and said to Barbara, "When he comes back, tell him I left something on the desk for him." Barbara nodded silently.

Teresa grabbed her bag and walked out of Brocade Villa. With no destination in mind, she drove aimlessly through the city streets. Her hands moved automatically on the steering wheel until, without conscious thought, she found herself outside Riverdale Auditorium, where crowds of young people were pouring out after some event.

The crowd gradually dispersed until only three figures remained. Charles and Naomi walked side by side, each holding one of Yolanda's hands. The three of them exchanged warm smiles, creating a picture of perfect happiness. Teresa froze at the sight.

Yolanda swung Naomi's arm playfully and said in her sweetest voice, "Miss Naomi, you looked like a shining fairy up there. Your piano playing was wonderful. When I grow up, will you teach me too? Please, Miss Naomi?"

Naomi stood glowing in a white evening dress, bright as a night-time star. She bent down to Yolanda's level with a kind smile, tapping the girl's nose gently. "If you want to learn," she laughed, "of course I'll teach you."

Yolanda bounced excitedly, then looked up at Charles with shining eyes. "Daddy, Miss Naomi is the best, right?" Charles' eyes softened as he nodded, his expression full of pride and admiration. Yolanda grinned from ear to ear. "I wanna be just like Miss Naomi when I'm big."

Teresa watched through the glass. She had never seen that look of love in her daughter's eyes. Marriage had consumed her completely. Over the years, she had given everything to her family, slowly losing herself in the process. To Yolanda, she was just the woman in the kitchen, while Naomi seemed like an unattainable angel. The realization struck like a knife to the heart.

At the auditorium entrance, Yolanda suddenly bounced on her toes, arms stretched high. "Miss Naomi, pick me up!" Charles gently stepped between them, quietly noting Naomi's evening gown wasn't suitable for lifting a child. Yolanda's little face instantly clouded with disappointment.

Naomi took in the scene. With a warm laugh, she swept Yolanda into her arms, shooting Charles a reassuring look. "Don't worry, I've got her," she said. Charles's stern expression melted into something tender as he watched them, his eyes glowing with quiet affection.

Naomi carried Yolanda down the steps, the little girl nestling against her shoulder while Charles followed close behind, carefully gathering Naomi's gown to prevent it from dragging. The man who dominated corporate meetings now gently tended to a woman's dress. And just like that, the three settled into the car and vanished down the street.

Teresa let out a bitter laugh. 'So this is what kept him busy.' She sat motionless in her car, staring blankly ahead, until her phone suddenly rang.

The screen displayed Matthew Spencer's name. Matthew was her direct supervisor at the hospital. Though fully qualified in pediatric surgery, Teresa had to restart as a junior doctor after her four-year leave as a full-time mother. "Mr. Spencer," she answered politely.

Matthew's voice came through clearly. "We're approving early completion of your training. You can return to regular hospital shifts next Monday."

Teresa paused, then asked carefully, "What about that countryside program for kids' check-ups? I'd like to help out there."

Matthew sounded surprised. "That's tough work with few career benefits. It's completely voluntary. The hospital isn't forcing anyone to go."

But Teresa had made up her mind. "I'm willing to go, Mr. Spencer. Think of it as my working break." Hearing her unwavering resolve, Matthew stopped pressing the matter and approved a two-month placement.

****

A month flew by. Yolanda had settled well into preschool. With family pressure mounting after two straight failed months, Charles returned to Brocade Villa earlier than usual on the 15th.

By 6 pm, Charles was already home. Barbara was surprised to see him return before Teresa. "You're early today, Mr. Logan?" she asked.

Without answering the question, Charles made his way upstairs. "Send Teresa to the bedroom when she gets back," he instructed curtly. Barbara gave a slight nod, her eyes following him up the steps.

Charles walked straight past the study. There was no reason to go anywhere else. His only reason for coming home was to try for another baby.

After showering, he settled into bed to wait for Teresa. The hours dragged on from seven to eight to nine, yet Teresa remained absent. Just as his patience was wearing thin, footsteps finally sounded at the door.

Chapter 6 Unanswered Calls The door opened. Charles flipped the light switch without thinking. The room was instantly engulfed in darkness. As he untied his robe, he said, "It's late. Let's begin. I've got things to do later." Light from the hallway crept in, barely illuminating the figure in the doorway.

Barbara stiffened at Charles's words. "Mr. Logan, it's just me," she whispered, lingering nervously in the doorway.

Charles was momentarily stunned. Realizing his mistake, he turned the light back on and looked at Barbara, his tone laced with confusion. "She hasn't returned yet?"

Barbara's forehead glistened with sweat as she shook her head. "Not yet, Mr. Logan." The room's air turned leaden with tension. Noticing Charles's displeasure, Barbara added, "Mrs. Logan is normally home by six. Maybe something came up tonight?" Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Charles understood her kind intention but only replied with a terse, "Got it." When Barbara was about to remind him to sleep early, he abruptly sat up, leaving her words unspoken.

Five minutes later, Charles changed his clothes and left Brocade Villa. Barbara saw him off downstairs, a nagging sense of forgetting something tugging at her.

It wasn't until Charles's car disappeared from sight that she remembered Teresa had mentioned something in the study.

Charles had just pulled out of Brocade Villa when his phone lit up with Naomi's call. "What's wrong?" he answered, his unusually gentle expression softened further by the dim interior light.

Naomi's voice came softly through the phone. "Charles, I have an important performance tomorrow, but Yolanda's preschool is having Family Fun Day. I don't think I can make it."

Charles didn't even consider asking Teresa first. "Teresa will go," he said, deciding for her like he always did.

"Thank you," Naomi replied, her voice lifting with relief. "I've already discussed it with Yolanda. Would you mind passing the message along to Ms. Sullivan when you get a chance?"

Charles said, "Don't worry. Just focus on your performance." Hanging up, he pulled the car over to the side of the road.

After checking his call list for a long time, he still couldn't find Teresa's number. That was when he realized she hadn't called him in months.

For years when Teresa stayed home with Yolanda, she called every day to ask if he would be home for dinner. He only occasionally returned, just to see their daughter.

After they talked about having another baby, she still frequently called to check if he was coming home. He often ignored her calls, either hanging up or letting the phone ring. But when he needed to reach her, her number was right there in his phone.

But now when Charles kept scrolling through his call log, her number was nowhere to be found. When he finally spotted it, the last call showed it was 3 months ago. Charles couldn't even remember if he had answered that one.

Without hesitation, he dialed that number, only hearing an automated message saying the call could not go through. This had never happened before. Surprised, he tried again but got the same result. After several failed attempts, he finally gave up.

He thought about video-calling Teresa on WhatsApp but couldn't find her contact. Left with no other option, he sent a text, [Yolanda has a Family Fun Day at her school tomorrow. She wants you there. East Street Preschool, at 2 pm.] With the message sent, Charles drove away.

Charles assumed Teresa must be busy, which explained the missed calls. He was sure she would see the message and take Yolanda to the event. Content with this thought, he let his worries go.

****

At 9 pm, Teresa finished her evening shift at the village school. Exhausted, she trudged back to the teacher's dorm, washed up, and collapsed into bed. Her silenced phone lay untouched beside her. She didn't check it before falling asleep.

The next morning, Teresa was awakened by a sound from her phone. Still half-asleep, she picked it up and saw it wasn't an alarm but a calendar reminder about her father-in-law's birthday tomorrow.

In previous years, she would have woken up early to go to the morning market for groceries. Then she would spend the entire day cooking fancy dishes for the birthday dinner party.

But this year was different. She decided not to do that anymore. After closing the reminder, she put down her phone and went back to sleep for a while longer.

****

Today was Friday. Teresa finished work at 2 pm. Before, she had only remembered her father-in-law's birthday, forgetting it was also her dad's special day.

But this year, she would head back to her parents' house tonight and cook a hearty meal for her own family tomorrow. As for Charles's text, it had long been buried under a flood of notifications.

****

Teresa arrived at her parents' place at 6 pm, just in time for dinner. Walking into the living room, she saw the whole family were there.

Monica Sullivan, deep in her puzzle, jumped when a figure appeared in the doorway. Squinting for a better look, she suddenly recognized her long-absent aunt. The puzzle pieces scattered as she sprinted across the room and clung to Teresa's legs. "Aunt Teresa, you're back!"

Teresa dropped to her knees and gathered Monica into a fierce hug, pressing a kiss to the child's cheek. Words choked in her throat, her eyes stinging as she fought back tears.

Monica locked her arms around Teresa's neck, smacking a loud kiss on her aunt's cheek. Then she yelled toward the kitchen, "Dad! Mom! Aunt Teresa's home!" Hearing the words, Theodore Sullivan and Yvonne Wesley emerged from the kitchen.

Theodore's face lit up at first glimpse of Teresa, but the joy evaporated instantly. Noticing his stern expression, Yvonne gave him a subtle elbow nudge before turning to Teresa with a warm smile. "Just in time. Dinner's about to be served."

Monica walked towards Yvonne, tugging her mother's sleeve. "Mom, Aunt Teresa's favorite is prosciutto. You said we had to save it till she visited. Now can we have some?"

Yvonne tapped Monica's nose with a chuckle. "Such a greedy girl. Alright, we'll have some today." Monica squealed with delight, her tiny hands clapping and ponytails swinging wildly with every jump.

Theodore kept his eyes averted from Teresa, his disapproval settling on Monica instead. "Don't waste your affection on those who don't appreciate it," he grumbled under his breath.

Teresa's family had always loved her. But she threw herself into serving the Logans, never getting so much as a thank you. They took her for granted while her real family suffered. Actually, she was too ashamed to come back tonight.

But she knew the love from her family was always there. Her brother and father might act tough, but they cared deeply. Her mother never stopped waiting for her. Her sister-in-law was always kind and understanding. And her niece was so adorable.

It was time to hold on to those who really loved her. The coldness of the past was only worth leaving behind.

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The bathroom door clicks shut behind Charles, steam curling from the crack. I lie still, the scent of him clinging to my skin like a curse. Three minutes. That’s all it takes for the Logan heir-making ritual. He emerges, towel around his waist, buttoning his shirt without looking at me. 'Test on schedule. Call me if it's positive.' Just like every month. Five years of this. No touch. No warmth. Just duty.

I sit up, heart pounding. 'Wait,' I say, voice trembling. 'We need to talk.' He turns slowly, eyes cold. 'About what?' I swallow. 'I want to make this work.' The words taste like ash. He doesn’t react. Buttons his cufflinks. Picks up his watch.

Just as his hand reaches the doorknob, something in me fractures. 'You only come once a month,' I cry. 'No calls. No meals. We’re strangers. What kind of marriage is this?' He stops. Turns just enough to meet my gaze. 'When you're carrying my son,' he says flatly, 'I'll return.' The door closes. I don’t move. For the first time, I let him walk away.