On Valentine's Day, my husband's neighbor posted an update on Instagram.

"Thank you for sending me a bunch of roses, Kevin. It feels so good to be cherished."

In the photo, Amelia was holding a big bouquet of roses in a presidential suite. I recognized it was the same place where Kevin and I had once stayed.

A man's silhouette was faintly visible behind the roses, with broad shoulders and a well-toned waist, his wet hair on his forehead giving out a hint of allure.

Her post got a lot of comments instantly, with one comment saying, "This guy looks like he could go seven rounds in one night."

Amelia responded with a shy-faced emoji, "I'll see what he got."

I liked her post.

A few minutes later, Amelia called me, crying, and asked me not to misunderstand, saying it was just a joke.

Kevin snatched her phone and yelled at me, "Maria, can't you be considerate? Stop making things difficult for people around me."

Then he softly said to Amelia, "Don't mind her. She's crazy."

Amelia laughed through her tears, and I quietly hung up.

I had loved him for five years, dated for two, and been married for three.

After ten years of giving, at this moment, I suddenly felt like letting go.

Kevin returned home while I was trying on clothes in the wardrobe room.

Since he had publicly mocked me a year ago, saying I looked tacky no matter what I wore compared to Amelia, I hadn't bought any new clothes since then.

Kevin approached me, violently tore off the clothes I was holding, and threw them into the trash.

"What's the point in trying? You can't cover up your tackiness no matter what you dress."

He threw a color-fading necklace into my arms, without even a box.

"It's from Amelia."

"She was afraid you would get mad. She deleted her post and insisted on buying you a gift to apologize."

I glanced down at the necklace, noticing the discoloration at the clasp. It clearly was a hand-me-down. "Thank her for me."

Kevin looked at me and kicked my leg. "Hurry up and call Amelia to apologize. Then I won't hold it against you."

"You're grown up, still acting like a jealous teenage girl all the time."

I threw the necklace into the trash and didn't reach for my phone.

Kevin's face darkened, and he shoved me hard. "What do you mean by this? Amelia apologized, and this is how you repay her kindness?"

The force of his push was strong and tugged at a scar on my chest, an injury from years ago when I saved him.

I clutched my chest, the pain making my body tremble.

Realizing something was wrong, he looked panicked as he said, "I'll get your medicine."

I looked up at him, my lips pressed tightly, saying nothing.

There was a test result about my pregnancy in the drawer, which I had checked a few days ago and casually placed there.

I initially planned to surprise Kevin with the news on Valentine's Day, but now it seemed unnecessary.

Kevin hurriedly fetched the medicine cabinet and rummaged through it. "I clearly remember the painkillers always being here."

"How could..."

He stopped mid-sentence, a guilty look flashing across his eyes.

Perhaps he suddenly remembered how he had rushed to bring ibuprofen to Amelia a few days ago when she had menstrual cramps.

In the past, I would have furiously demanded he find a way to bring back the medicine.

But this time, I thought about it and decided to let it go.