Chapter 1
By 8:p.m., the cake celebrating our 5th wedding anniversary was still sitting on the table, untouched.
My husband, Christian Miller, slouched on the couch, his brow furrowed as he stared at his phone, completely ignoring the carefully prepared steak in front of him.
As I looked at his cold, chiseled profile, a deep sense of helplessness washed over me.
It had been three years.
Three years ago, Christian woke up from an ordinary afternoon nap and turned into a completely different person. The man who used to tilt the umbrella entirely toward me in the rain and run three blocks in the middle of the night to buy me soup was just gone.
In his place was a man filled with endless paranoia and relentless silent treatment. At times, I would even catch a glimpse of naked hatred in his eyes when he looked at me.
I had checked his phone. I had gone through his schedule. It was all clean. There were no signs of another woman.
So, I could only blame myself. I thought I had been a stay-at-home wife for too long, falling behind his pace. I thought I just wasn't good enough.
Pushing down the sting in my nose, I walked over and called out to him softly. "Christian, let's eat. I made all your favorites today."
He finally tore his eyes away from his screen and cast a glacial glance at the steak and minestrone soup.
He stood up and strode over to the table.
I thought he was finally going to compromise. I turned to grab the silverware.
Then, in the next second, he picked up the plate of steak I had spent hours preparing and dumped the entire thing straight into the trash can at his feet.
The white porcelain shattered against the rim of the bin. Thick, rich gravy splattered all over the hem of my clean dress.
I froze, my voice trembling uncontrollably. "Christian, what the hell are you doing?"
He let out a mocking sneer, looking at me with pure disgust. "Drop the dutiful wife act, Sarah Lynn. It makes me sick. Who knows if you've poisoned the damn food?"
My mind went totally blank, and a sharp pain in my eyes made it feel like they were going to split open.
We had been married for five years. I gave up my career to nurse his severely ill mother and kept this house spotless. And now, he had the nerve to ask if I poisoned his dinner?
"What is your problem? What did I ever do to you?" I balled my fists, ready to scream.
Just then, his phone rang, cutting through the tension.
Christian glanced at the screen, and the disgust on his face instantly melted away. He didn't even bother to step away. Right in front of me, he answered the call, his voice dripping with tenderness.
"Don't cry. It's bad for your health," he murmured. "Okay, just be a good girl and wait for me. I'm coming over right now."
Hanging up, he grabbed his coat from the sofa and headed straight for the door without giving me a second glance.
"Christian!" I finally snapped, screaming at his retreating back. "Today is our 5th anniversary!"
His hand paused on the doorknob. He didn't turn around. Instead, he threw one last vicious insult over his shoulder. "Anniversary? You don't deserve one."
The next instant, the door slammed hard behind him.
A suffocating dead silence swallowed the living room once again.
I stared fixedly at the pile of meat and broken porcelain in the trash, and the tears I had been holding back finally crashed down.
What had I done wrong to deserve being treated like an enemy—stripped of all my dignity for three agonizing years?
