Chapter 1

In three years of marriage, Ethan never once sat down and shared a meal with me.

I couldn't go a single meal without fish, but he'd curse at the mere whiff of it—said it reeked.

So every time he sat at the dining table, I'd carry my plate to the living room and eat alone.

When I was done, I'd rinse my mouth three times before daring to kiss him, and even then he'd grimace and pull away.

I told myself it was his boundary, and I needed to respect it.

Three years. Every single day.

Until my birthday, when I went to the fish market to buy something for soup.

I was passing a stall when my feet stopped dead.

There was Ethan, standing behind the counter in an apron streaked with dried blood, bringing a cleaver down on a fish for a customer with practiced ease.

Beside him stood a young woman, holding a plate of sashimi. She dipped a slice in soy sauce and lifted it to his mouth.

He opened up without hesitation, barely chewed before swallowing it down.

The girl flashed him a smile. He set the knife down, tilted his head, and kissed her on the lips.

The fish market was deafening, but standing there, I couldn't hear a thing.

In that moment, it hit me all at once—

I didn't love him anymore.

…

A sharp ache tore through my chest.

Not because I'd caught him with another woman.

But because I pitied myself—three years of bending over backward, and for what? What a joke.

For three years, just to eat fish, I'd hidden outside with my plate like some stray.

Every time I walked through the front door, he'd make me gargle five times before he'd let me so much as touch him.

And yet just now—both their mouths fresh with raw fish, no rinsing at all.

Right there in that reeking market, he'd kissed her deeply.

My stomach lurched.

Disgusted. Nauseated.

I lifted my foot gently and walked forward.

My heels clicked against the stone path.

They heard someone approaching and pulled apart instantly.

"Welcome, ma'am… Can I—"

Ethan's face was all smiles as he greeted me, but the moment he saw who it was, the color drained from his face.

I didn't look at him. Didn't care what his reaction was.

I pulled out my wallet, took out some bills, and turned to the girl selling fish:

"I'd like a fish. The bigger, the better."

She clearly had no idea who I was. She glanced back at the tanks and gave me an apologetic look:

"Sorry, gorgeous—you got here a little late. We're all sold out. Would you like to reserve one for tomorrow?"

I shook my head. My voice was calm:

"I'm not late. I got here the moment the market opened."

Ethan, standing off to the side, went visibly rigid again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his fingers trembling.

"Oh—then how come you're only buying now?"

I smiled at her:

"Now seems like perfect timing, doesn't it? There's still one fish left."

She didn't quite follow. Instinctively, she turned to look.

There was one fish left in the tank—dead, no telling how long.

She waved her hands frantically:

"Oh no, miss—that one's dead. It's not fresh. We can't sell it to you."

I kept smiling:

"It's fine. It's just dead—it's not dirty. Give me a little discount and I'll take it. After all, it is my birthday."

Ethan's head snapped up. His expression darkened.

"Oh no, miss—that one's dead. It's not fresh. We can't sell it to you."

I kept smiling:

"It's fine. It's just dead—it's not dirty. Give me a little discount and I'll take it. After all, it is my birthday."

Ethan's head snapped up. His expression darkened further.

A flicker of barely concealed delight passed through the girl's eyes. She put on a show of reluctance and nodded:

"Oh… well, alright then. But my boyfriend can't help you clean it—he's been at it all morning, he's exhausted. You understand…"

Before I could say a word, Ethan had already scooped the fish out, pulling on his gloves with practiced efficiency:

"It's fine, Mia. I've got it. Just one more."

The girl—Mia—gave me an apologetic smile, then rose on her tiptoes and planted a light kiss on his cheek:

"Thanks, babe."

Something lodged itself in my chest, pressing down until I could barely breathe.

Ethan stunned the fish and asked me:

"How do you want it?"

"Sashimi."

My answer made his hand freeze again.

He pressed his lips together, silent for a long time before finally speaking:

"This one isn't fresh enough for sashimi. You'll get sick."

I looked at him. The hurt crept up before I could stop it:

"Is this fish the one that's not fresh—or was it never fresh to begin with?"

Ethan stiffened. He set down his tools and tossed the fish back into the tank:

"Sorry. This one's not for sale."

"I want to eat fish on my birthday."

He stood there, frozen, utterly lost.

Mia finally picked up on the tension between us. She asked cautiously:

"Ethan… do you two… know each other?"

Ethan shot me a desperate look.

He wanted me to say no.

In three years of marriage, this was the first time he'd ever asked me for anything.

And it was for another woman.

Whatever warmth was left in my heart cooled, degree by degree.

I closed my eyes. Gave him what he wanted. Let a single line fall:

"No. I don't know him."

Eyes burning red, I turned and walked away.

What he didn't know was this:

It wasn't just the fish I was giving up. It was him.