Chapter 842: Chapter 842



“Why are you still talking like this?” Crowell asked, his voice defensive.

Fiona removed her wedding ring, the silence between them thick with years of unspoken resentment. As she held the ring in her palm, she realized the painful truth: being a housewife had stripped her of dignity, respect, and confidence.

“I’m serious,” Fiona said calmly, her voice unwavering. “I’ll take custody of the child. I won’t ask for a single penny. I just want a divorce. That’s all. I only want my child.”

Crowell’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Fiona replied, her voice a quiet force of finality. “At first, I was willing to endure. As long as you showed real remorse, I would have stayed. But why should I? Why should I continue to live like this while you cheat, leaving me to manage everything at home?”

Crowell could no longer maintain the pretense, and frankly, he didn’t want to.

He glanced at the menu, leaning back with an air of arrogance.

“If you’re going to make a scene, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

His words were as sly as ever. Though he was the one who cheated, he was attempting to shift the blame onto his wife.

Fiona’s fists tightened in frustration. “Is this me making a scene? You cheated first. You’re the one at fault. What’s wrong with wanting a divorce?”

Nearby diners began to glance over, and Crowell’s face twisted with discomfort. “Shut up, okay? Don’t embarrass yourself here!”

Fiona met his gaze, her voice rising. “You think I’m embarrassing now?”

Crowell, clearly irritated, stood up abruptly. “Fine, let’s just do what we’ve agreed on and get divorced quickly. If it weren’t for our kid, I wouldn’t want to be stuck with you!”

gⱯlnσν𝓮ℓs․cóm is your escape Fiona’s eyes followed his every movement, each word from him slicing deeper.

Her voice trembled with rising desperation. “How am I embarrassing you? Crowell, you cheated. You’re the one who should be ashamed. How am I embarrassing you?”

Crowell stormed out. Of course, he wasn’t heading home.

Fiona remained behind, her tears falling silently as she wiped them away. She was thankful she had dressed well today. Otherwise, she might have looked even more disheveled.

No one at the surrounding tables offered any comfort. To them, this was just a family quarrel, the kind that happened when a husband was unfaithful. Fiona felt the weight of the stares, unsure how to endure them. Just as she prepared to leave, a clean white napkin appeared in front of her.

She looked up, meeting Dulce’s gaze, an unexpected, silent support in her eyes. Behind Dulce stood a few friends her age. One lively girl spoke up. “Don’t cry. That jerk isn’t worth your tears.”

Fiona hesitated, but Dulce’s genuine kindness made it difficult for her to refuse.

“Thank you.”

Inside, Fiona felt a twinge of reluctance.

She had never liked Dulce, especially since Dulce had pursued Michael, her sister’s husband. Now, Michael was the only one she could rely on. If Michael really ended up with Dulce, who would she turn to in the future? But in that moment, she needed someone to stand by her, someone to prevent her from feeling utterly alone.

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