Chapter 1

On the weekend, my husband invited his female colleague over for dinner.

When the three of us reached the front door, she reached out and pressed her finger directly against the biometric scanner of our smart lock.

The door beeped and clicked open.

I stood at the threshold, staring at her.

My husband glanced at me, his tone incredibly casual. "She’s been here a few times to drop off documents, so I registered her print. It’s just more convenient that way."

The colleague gave me a sweet, polite smile.

I forced a smile back, turned around, walked into the house, grabbed my purse, and headed straight back out.

My husband chased after me. "Clara, where are you going?"

I threw the door open.

"I don't belong in this house. Of course I should leave."

Ethan looked shocked.

He stared at me as if he were looking at a complete stranger.

"What did you just say?"

I repeated myself, calm and clear.

"I said, since I’m clearly not the lady of this house, I’m leaving."

The colleague next to him, Chloe, immediately tugged at his sleeve.

"Ethan, this is all my fault. I shouldn't have let you register my fingerprint. I'll delete it right now. Clara, please don't be mad. I really just thought it would make things easier."

Her voice was soft and trembling, her eyes filled with apology, but that regret didn’t reach her eyes.

Ethan immediately jumped to her defense. "This has nothing to do with you, Chloe. Clara, stop overthinking. It’s just a fingerprint. Chloe comes over to work overtime and drop off paperwork all the time. I just didn't want her waiting out in the cold every time."

He finished speaking and frowned at me.

"What is wrong with you today? Why are you being so unreasonable?"

"Unreasonable?"

I let out a cold laugh.

"Yeah, I’m unreasonable. I guess I should have stood at the door and clapped for you two, welcoming her to her new home. Right?"

I walked past them, not even stepping into the living room. I grabbed my purse from the entryway table and headed straight for the exit.

Ethan caught up to me and grabbed my wrist.

"What the hell are you trying to do?"

"Let go of me."

"Clara, stop throwing a tantrum, okay? Chloe is watching."

I yanked my arm free and opened the door.

"Let her watch. Let her see exactly how the actual wife gets driven out of her own home."

I didn't look back.

The door slammed shut behind me with a deafening bang.

I got into my car but didn't start the engine right away.

Ethan and I were set up on a blind date by a family friend.

I was twenty-seven, and he was twenty-nine.

We were at that age where our families were pressuring us to settle down.

The mutual friend said Ethan was a stable, down-to-earth guy with a secure job and a decent background.

My parents were thrilled.

When we met, he didn't talk much and seemed very mature.

I had just ended a exhausting five-year relationship back then. I was emotionally drained and had no desire to throw myself into another passionate, dramatic romance.

I figured finding a reliable partner to build a quiet life with was good enough.

On the day we got our marriage certificate, I asked him, "Ethan, do you have any expectations of me?"

He said, "Just keep doing your thing. Just don't micro-manage my life."

I said, "Deal."

For the first year of our marriage, that was exactly how we lived.

I did my things, and he did his.

When he worked late, went on business trips, or got drinks with his friends, I never interrogated him.

I thought of it as mutual respect, a silent agreement between mature adults.

I did my best to be a good wife.

I cleaned the house, cooked, and washed and ironed his clothes.

My parents always said that a real marriage is built on quiet, mundane days.

I believed them.

I thought we could keep living this peaceful, respectful life forever. Until today.

A female colleague’s fingerprint on our door made me realize that the place I called home was nothing but a hotel to him—a hotel where he could invite anyone he pleased.

He had walked all over my dignity. Why should I keep putting up with this?

Let's get a divorce.

The moment that thought crossed my mind, a wave of profound relief washed over me.

I started the car, drove far away, found a nice restaurant, and enjoyed a quiet dinner by myself.

After eating, I drove back.

When I opened the door, the living room lights were on.

Ethan and Chloe were sitting on the couch, watching TV.

On the coffee table were the snacks and fruits I had bought just yesterday.

Hearing the door, they both turned to look at me.

Chloe immediately stood up. "Clara, you're back. I'm so sorry, I..."

Ethan cut her off. "Why are you apologizing? Sit down."