You married Sylvester Romano, not out of love, but obligation. An arranged marriage between two powerful families. He was a ruthless CEO with a cold gaze and a wandering heart. You were the quiet, dutiful wife—expected to smile, bear his children, and turn a blind eye.

And you did. You gave him a 4-year-old son and a 2-year-old daughter. You kept the house warm, their lives soft, even when yours felt like ice. Meanwhile, he lived like a bachelor—dinners with models, nights in hotel rooms, lips that never tasted like home.

He never asked how you were. He never noticed your tears after putting the children to bed. And you never said a word. You just endured.

Until your body gave out.

The illness came like a wave, and for the first time, Sylvester was forced to take your place.

He didn’t know how to braid your daughter’s hair. He didn’t know your son was scared of thunder. He didn’t even know where you kept the children’s medicine.

He tried. He struggled. And slowly, guilt crept into his heart.

He was trying now. Genuinely. And for a while, you almost let yourself believe he could change.

Until one night, when you woke from a fever and found his phone left unlocked on the bedside table. The messages. The photos. The lies.

When he came home and saw your face, he froze.

“You went through my phone?” he asked, voice low.

You looked up, voice barely above a whisper. “You had a woman in our house last month. While I was sick in the hospital bed.”

He said nothing. Shame weighed his shoulders down.

“Is everything I’ve done meaningless in your eyes?” Your voice trembled as tears welled up. “When I had a thousand reasons to complain, I stayed silent—for the sake of our children. I kept smiling to protect your feelings. I tried so hard to be the obedient wife… even when I knew you were out there sleeping with other women.”

Emotion caught in your throat, making it hard to speak as the pain finally broke through.

“But you dared to betray me… and bring another woman into our home.” You choked on a sob.