Timothy, ever lofty, would never deign to ask me to keep cooking his vegetarian meals. At the same time, he was a picky eater with sky-high standards for food. So, he called his assistant and instructed, "Find a chef skilled in vegetarian cuisine. Money's no issue. I want them here by tomorrow." At that moment, Yasmin, who had been playing the role of a pitiful guest since her arrival, spoke up. "Ms. York, I know you have issues with me. Moving in here with Daphne so abruptly was a bit rude..." I stayed calm as I said, "You know it's rude, yet you still shamelessly moved in, didn't you? Is there nowhere else in the world for you to stay except Timothy's and my home? Do you have to resort to being a homewrecker to put a roof over your head?" Her face turned red with rage before becoming ashen. She wanted to snap back at me, but held it in, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked to Timothy for help. Only I noticed her fingers clenching tightly underneath the table. Daphne was just a child, but she sensed the hostility in my tone. She ran to Timothy, climbed onto his lap, and asked timidly, "Daddy, who is this lady? She's so mean." "Don't be scared, Daphne. She... She's not a bad person," he said, shooting me a warning look. He didn't lose his temper with me in front of Yasmin, though. I figured that it was because I'd been "cooperative" despite him bringing his mistress and illegitimate daughter to flaunt them under my nose. I hadn't caused a scene, so he felt just a little bit guilty. So, he didn't have the nerve to push me further. He couldn't expect me to not only accept his mistress but also smile and play nice, could he? Yasmin's displeasure was palpable after failing to stir up a fight between me and Timothy. The table full of vegetarian dishes must have tasted like cardboard to her. I couldn't help but scoff inwardly. Timothy had been devoutly religious for three years, and I, a meat lover, had eaten vegetarian food alongside him throughout that time. Yet Yasmin, who wanted to steal my husband, couldn't even handle this hurdle. I finished eating, set down my cutlery, and left the table under their complicated gazes. Back in the guest room, I took a deep breath and looked around the house that I'd lived in for nearly four years. I'd gone from the master bedroom to the guest room. I was even more like a guest now. I hadn't slept last night and wanted to take a nap, but a knock abruptly sounded at my door. I opened it to see Yasmin standing there with a large bag. She said, "Ms. York, I'm sorry about this. These are your and Tim's wedding photos. He said it's not good for Daphne to see them, so could you please put them away?" "There's no need for that. Just throw them in the trash," I said, my expression blank. I moved to close the door. But Yasmin didn't want to give up without provoking me. She quickly stopped the door from swinging shut and said in a soft and pleading voice, "Ms. York, Daphne is a secret between Tim and me, and we have reasons we can't yet reveal. You don't need to lash out like this. Once Daphne and I leave, you can hang the photos back up." A secret? Lovely. She and Timothy had secrets, hidden reasons, and I was just a pawn in their game. Was that what she wanted me to know? I had no interest in wasting words on her, so I grabbed the bag and tossed it carelessly into my room. The glass frames inside shattered. Yasmin was stunned by my actions, as if she couldn't believe that I wasn't heartbroken or even hurt. In her eyes, I should've played the part of the scorned wife. I needed to curl up into a ball and sob my heart out over the broken glass. I glanced at the bag on the floor. "There, I've put the photos away. Is there anything else? Or do you need me to pack up other things? Should I also put away the bed Timothy and I slept in?" Yasmin was left speechless. Her delicate features twisted in frustration. Unfortunately, all she got in response was the sound of me slamming the door in her face. I didn't spare the photos in the bag another glance. I left the bag by the door for Laura to throw out later. ... After my nap, I launched the Instagram app to see a new friend request. The profile picture was of Daphne, so it didn't take a genius to guess that this was Yasmin's account. I didn't reject it. Instead, I accepted the request. It was just as I had expected. She was gearing up to torment me 24/7 through her Instagram stories and posts. I should have ignored her, but my curiosity got the better of me. I pathetically tapped into her profile. I wouldn't have expected any less from someone in the entertainment industry. Yasmin knew how to keep herself free from implication-not a single photo showed her face, let alone her with Daphne and Timothy. However, there were many crystal-clear images of Daphne and Timothy. Every special occasion had a nine-photo carousel, complete with captions to commemorate the day. When I was pregnant, I had imagined and looked forward to seeing Timothy as a father. Ironically, that dream never came true with me, but I found the answer in his mistress' Instagram posts. I scrolled slowly, trying to pinpoint when Timothy had started having the affair. Then, I stopped at a particular date. It wasn't the day his affair had started, but it was the darkest day of my life.