For the fifth time, Chase checked the clock. Midnight. He glanced at the table laden with untouched dishes and chuckled weakly. Of course Wendy wouldn't remember. He hadn't even known what he'd hoped for. He rose, about to discard the cold food, when he heard the door's passcode being entered. He froze.

Wendy entered, the cold wind swirling behind her. Exhausted, she carried a bag, dropping it by the door. "Happy birthday," she said, looking up at him. "I worked late. Try it on, see if it fits." Before he could approach, she disappeared into the bedroom.

Chase stood for a long time, then approached the bag with resignation. One look at the label elicited an inward sneer. A high-end French designer—only one store nationwide. It proved effort, at least. But he never wore that brand. He didn't need to remove it; the color alone revealed its intended recipient. After a long silence, he murmured, "Thank you." The bag remained untouched. Wendy saw neither the cold food nor inquired about his dinner. She went straight to the bathroom. Her phone rang; the sound alone drained him. "Henry? I'm home. What is it?" All strength left him. They'd been married five years, yet their time together likely totaled less than ten days. Wendy was always in meetings, always traveling. Maybe she was truly busy. Or maybe… she simply didn't care.

A knock came at the door. "Mom," Chase said softly, admitting Mandy. "Wendy's home, showering. I'll make you some tea." Mandy, noticing the untouched food, felt her heart ache. She took his hand, leading him to the couch. "Chase, have you thought about what I said?"

The wind howled, snow battering the windows. Inside it was warm, yet Chase's hands remained ice-cold. Mandy saw his fatigue, her own eyes welling. "Mom, I… I'll do it." She nodded. "Back then, we used our wealth to exploit your dilemma and force your marriage to Wendy. We're truly sorry. At least now we can make things right." Her gaze shifted towards the bathroom. "After the divorce, you and Wendy can return to your proper paths. I blame myself for agreeing to the marriage."

Their marriage had been a transaction. In college, Wendy, deeply in love with Henry, was ready to forgo her inheritance to elope. But a multi-vehicle accident intervened. Among the victims was Chase's mother. He'd been nearby, rescuing his mother and Wendy. Henry, already rescued, vanished. Later, Chase learned Henry had been taken overseas by the Harrison family.

Wendy never saw Henry again. Chase was surprised when she proposed. His mother suffered massive organ damage after the accident. Despite their efforts, her condition worsened. The Quinn family, grateful for Chase saving their daughter, transferred her to a better hospital, providing equipment and the best doctors at their expense. The day Wendy proposed, Chase's mother suffered another hemorrhage. He refused further Quinn assistance, using his scholarship money, which proved insufficient. Then a credit card appeared, offered by Wendy. "Use this." She was stunning, unlike the girl he'd pulled from the wreckage. "I'll pay you back," he whispered. "No need," she replied. She stayed for four hours after paying the bill, until his mother stabilized. She recited his life story: top of his class, father absconded with the family money, his mother’s ill health, the car crash. Her eyes reddened. She took his cold, trembling hand. "Will you… marry me?"

It was absurd. But considering the Quinns' generosity, he saw it as a deal he couldn't refuse. Much later, he learned Henry had become engaged to another heiress that same day.

Now, Chase felt oddly calm. "Mom—Ms. Mandy—I told you from the beginning I'd repay the money. Marrying Wendy was my choice. You didn't force me. You don't need to feel guilty." The Quinns had treated him well, aware of Wendy's feelings for Henry. They tried to compensate by being kinder to Chase. Six months ago, however, Henry returned, contacting Wendy. Since then, she'd come home later and later, sometimes not at all, offering only "Working late" as an excuse.

"There's four hundred twenty thousand dollars here," Mandy said. "I've arranged for you to return to school overseas. I know not getting your master's was a regret. Your father and I will support you." She left before Wendy emerged.

Chase didn't touch the card. He cleaned the table and went to bed. "My mom came over?" He mumbled, groggy, "Mm." Wendy snorted. "Stop taking money from my mom. Everyone thinks I'm mistreating you." Something landed on his pillow—another card. Her words echoed: "Don't just mope at home. You have the money, but no plan. Go out. Visit your mom more. I don't have time. Just buy some flowers and take them over."

He did as she said, squatting long before his mother's tombstone, brushing away dust. Her smiling photo seared his mind. He placed the card on the step. "Mom, Wendy's busy. It's just me again. But hey, at least she's generous." The wind howled, a silent grief. Chase murmured, "Mom, I miss you, and… I want a divorce."