1 At Travis White’s twenty-eighth birthday gala, someone presented him with another woman, right in front of me. In that moment, I shed my years of gentle compliance, shattered my wineglass, and brought his birthday party crashing down around us. Then I packed my bags and walked out of our home, alone. Everyone said the powerless Mrs. White wouldn’t last three days before she came crawling back, tail between her legs. Travis was unconcerned. "She's an orphan. Without the White family, where could she possibly go?" But countless sets of three days passed. People began to wonder if I had died somewhere, forgotten. That was when Travis finally called. The number was disconnected. Later, at a renowned artist’s gallery opening, a portrait of a woman in profile stopped Travis White in his tracks. He offered a fortune to buy the painting. The artist, Leo Baker, simply smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, but that’s the best portrait I’ve ever painted of my wife. I can’t part with it.” … It was Travis White’s twenty-eighth birthday party. I wore my most exquisite gown, my arm linked through his as we made our grand entrance. The moment we reached the bottom of the staircase, he released me, leaving me standing there as the tide of the party flowed past. Every eye in the room followed Travis. I was forgotten in a corner. Guests presented him with gifts, one after another. He would give a detached nod, signaling for the butler to take them away. This continued until one guest stepped forward with a beautiful young woman. Suddenly, all eyes were on me again. Pity. Amusement. Scorn. I had grown accustomed to the weight of those gazes over the years. Travis’s normally stoic face flickered with a brief, unguarded expression. The woman was a dead ringer for his first love, Lydia, the one he’d lost. “Presenting me with a woman in front of my wife,” Travis said, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “You’ve got some nerve.” The gift-giver chuckled obsequiously. “Mrs. White is a generous woman. I’m sure she won’t mind.” It wasn’t that I wouldn’t mind. It was that they knew I didn’t dare to mind. An orphan raised by the White family fortune—how could I possibly say “no” to its new master? Travis toyed with the wedding band on his finger, his eyes glinting. “Well, since my wife has no objections, take her…” Before he could finish, I strode to his side. I looked at the woman’s face. The man had done his homework; he knew exactly what Travis desired. And in that instant, a profound weariness washed over me, bone-deep and final. I realized I no longer had the strength to play the part of the dignified Mrs. White, to honor the promise I made to his grandmother. With a gentle push, I sent the champagne tower behind me to its doom. The beautiful crystal pyramid swayed, then collapsed with a deafening crash. Glass and champagne sprayed across the marble floor, throwing the elegant party into chaos. “Mrs. White has lost her mind!” someone shrieked. I had ruined Travis’s birthday. He didn’t seem to care. The butler was already escorting the guests out, and the staff was quietly cleaning up the mess. The beautiful woman, however, remained. She stood silently by Travis’s side, her serene demeanor a perfect echo of Lydia’s. The contrast made me look even more unhinged. Travis idly played with the woman’s fingers, his gaze drifting to me. “Why so angry?” he asked, his tone maddeningly casual. “If you don’t want to see her, I’ll have her stay somewhere else. Don’t worry,” he added, “I swore to my grandmother that I would never take away your position as Mrs. White.” The woman beside him chimed in, her voice soft and placating. “Mrs. White, there’s no need to be upset. A man like Mr. White is bound to have more than one woman. I only admire him; I have no intention of threatening your status.” I slipped the ring from my finger and placed it on the table in front of Travis. He raised an eyebrow. “Here’s your ring back.” He plucked the ring from the table, tossing it casually into the air. The diamond caught the light in a brilliant arc before falling back into his palm. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he threw it to the woman behind him. “It’s yours. A million-dollar ring, and Mrs. White doesn’t want it.” Travis stood, a cold sneer on his face, and addressed the butler. “Find the madam some tutors. Teach her some etiquette. I don’t want to witness such a disgraceful display ever again.” He walked a few steps, then paused and turned back. He pulled his own wedding band from his finger and tossed it onto the floor. It rolled across the marble, coming to a stop at my feet. “If you don’t want the rings, then let’s get rid of them both.” Travis left with the woman. The roar of his car’s engine was sharp and final in the night air. The butler, Mr. Hobbs, sighed beside me. “Madam, why must you provoke him? You know he holds a grudge against you.” I picked up the ring at my feet and dropped it into a nearby trash can. “You should get back to your duties, Mr. Hobbs. You don’t need to worry about me.” He sighed again and left. I went upstairs alone and changed out of the elaborate gown, pulling on a simple white t-shirt. I found my suitcase and methodically packed my half of the closet, the clear line between his clothes and mine making it an easy task. When other couples fought, they had to consider divorce settlements and lawyers. But the connection between Travis and me was so thin, it amounted to nothing more than a pair of matching rings. No one would ever believe that the bride and groom of the city’s most sensational wedding of the century never even signed a marriage license. I still remembered what Travis had said to me on our wedding day. “The only name that belongs on that line next to mine is Lydia’s. Charlotte, you never should have married me.” But what could I do? I married him anyway. I married the man I had loved for seven years, through all my girlhood dreams, believing that one day I could win his heart. Instead, I became the hollow figure everyone knew as Mrs. White, a wife in name only. The mansion was silent as I dragged my suitcase to the door. It felt just like the rainy night his grandmother had first brought me here. A thirteen-year-old Travis had stood on the grand staircase, looking down at me with cold, indifferent eyes. Then he had turned, gone to the kitchen, and returned with a glass of warm milk. I booked a flight. Six hours in the air, three more in a car, and I was back in the small, remote southern town of my childhood. They say the old yearn to return to their roots. But a person with no home yearns for them even more, even if there’s no family left to welcome you. I rented a small cottage with a little yard. The local dialect felt both familiar and foreign. I was young when I left, and my years in Northwood City had scrubbed the accent from my tongue. Fortunately, the man in the cottage next door was an outsider too, though he’d arrived before me. He’d helped me at the market one day when I couldn’t understand the old woman selling vegetables. The next day, I made him a sweet corn cake to thank him. That’s when I learned he was an artist, here to paint the local scenery. He had the easy, vibrant energy of a recent college graduate. Away from the people and pressures of Northwood, in this simple, rustic place, it hit me: I was only twenty-five years old. But living in the White mansion, constantly upholding the posture of “Mrs. White,” had made me feel ancient and weary. I bought flowers from the street and filled my small yard with climbing roses. I put a little rocking chair next to the flowerbed. It was modest, but it was all mine. The gardens at the White estate were filled with yellow roses, Lydia’s favorite. The glass conservatory housed an expensive grand piano that Travis had designed for her. No one was allowed to touch it. His grandmother had once threatened to rip out the roses. Travis had exploded in a rare fit of rage. “If the roses go, I go with them.” No one ever mentioned it again. Lydia and her roses became sacred, untouchable ground. That afternoon, there was a knock on my gate. It was Leo Baker, dressed in a hoodie with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He grinned when he saw me. “Hey, Charlotte! I’m heading up the mountain to paint the sunrise tomorrow. Want to come along? Get some fresh air?” He pointed to the peak rising behind our cottages. I knew the mountain was something of a local landmark, the main draw for tourists. I was tempted. “Don’t worry! I go camping all the time. I’m an expert, it’s totally safe.” His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself nodding. Leo was true to his word. He immediately went back to his cottage and returned with another large pack. He carried both sets of camping gear himself, along with his easel and art supplies. I tried to help, but he flatly refused. “I’m strong. This is nothing.” On the way up the trail, we talked about our pasts and our futures. My past felt dull and predictable, a story that revolved entirely around the White family and Travis, culminating in my empty title as his wife. But Leo was different. He was a wellspring of fresh stories and boundless dreams for the future. “Life is all about the experience, right? My dream right now is to be a famous painter, so I have to give it my all,” he said. “And, between you and me, I kind of ran away from home. So if you wake up one day and my cottage is empty, it probably means my family finally caught me.” I laughed. It turned out we were both fugitives. The only difference was that he had a family who would come looking for him. My disappearance would probably be a cause for celebration for Travis. We reached the summit just as the sun was beginning to set. The warm, golden light bathed everything in an ethereal glow. I looked down at the small town below, nestled in the valley, peaceful and serene under the blanket of light. Leo was already busy setting up the tents. “The sunset is beautiful too,” I said. “Aren’t you going to paint it?” “I prefer the sunrise,” he replied. “Every day is a new beginning. It represents infinite possibility, new life.” I sat on the camp stool he’d set out, watching him work, his words echoing in my mind. A new beginning. Leaving the White estate was the bravest thing I had ever done. But afterward, I had acted like a coward, running back to this remote town and hiding myself away in my little cottage. I hadn’t given a single thought to what came next. Was I just going to wither away here for the rest of my life? I was only twenty-five. My future was still full of infinite possibilities. Leo finished with the tents and handed me some food and water. He plopped down on a mat beside me, hands behind his head, and stared up at the newly-starred sky. “You should try looking at the stars like this, Charlotte. It’s a totally different feeling.” At the White mansion, I was bound by a thousand rules of etiquette. Everything I did had to befit the status of Mrs. White. The phrase I heard most often was, “Madam, you cannot do that.” Lying on the ground to watch the stars was something I had never even considered. Leo didn’t give me time to think about it. He reached out, grabbed my arm, and pulled. In a second, I was off the stool and on the mat beside him. “Lie down!” he urged. I let go of my inhibitions and did as he said. Lying on my back, the sky seemed to press down, so close I felt I could reach out and touch the stars. We lay there for hours, talking about everything and nothing. And as we talked, I made a decision. I had to be brave. I had to step out into the world. Running away was just another form of hiding. I needed to meet new people, see the vast world outside my gilded cage, until the day came when I could stand face-to-face with Travis and feel nothing at all. Sometime in the night, I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Curled up in a simple tent on a mountainside, I felt more secure than I ever had in my life. When I stumbled out of the tent in the morning, groggy with sleep, Leo was already at his easel, his expression focused and serious. The sun climbed slowly over the horizon, its gentle rays warming my skin. I watched it rise, feeling like I was witnessing my own new beginning. “Charlotte! Don’t move!” Leo’s excited voice startled me. I froze, only able to watch him out of the corner of my eye. He was using me as his model. When he was finished, I rubbed my stiff neck. Being a muse was harder than it looked. “Let me get that for you. A thank you for being my model.” His hands were strong, and his massage was firm. I closed my eyes, melting under his touch. All the way down the mountain, Leo chattered excitedly about the inspiration that had struck him. I’d seen the painting; I thought it was nice, but I couldn’t appreciate the finer points. The moment we got back, he disappeared into his cottage. I turned on the TV. The sudden appearance of Travis’s face on the screen made me jump back. I almost changed the channel, but my hand froze. I was glad for the decision I’d made last night. Travis was a public figure. I couldn’t avoid him forever. He looked the same. During the interview, when asked about the recent rumors of a marital rift, his expression remained cool. “My wife is just throwing a bit of a tantrum. She’ll come back after she’s had her fun.” Everyone envied me. An orphan, taken in by the venerable White family and then married to the heir—I was the luckiest woman alive. Only I knew the truth: to be ignored by everyone, resented by my own husband, to hold the title of Mrs. White but still feel like a piece of driftwood in that house, utterly rootless. Every year, when the yellow roses were in bloom, Travis would have the staff cut them and fill every vase in the mansion. The piano in the conservatory was polished daily. Lydia was dead, but Travis made sure her presence was everywhere, a constant reminder of my place. “We hear the argument between you and Mrs. White was over the new assistant you’ve been seen with?” the reporter pressed. Travis’s brow furrowed in annoyance. He instinctively reached to touch the wedding band on his finger. But there was nothing there. He remembered then. Charlotte had been surprisingly defiant this time. She’d returned his ring and had the audacity to run off. He thought back to the call from Mr. Hobbs, his panicked voice reporting that the madam was gone. When Travis had returned home, he’d found Charlotte’s side of the closet completely empty. Only his suits remained, hanging in the vast, silent space. It was just another one of her tactics, a way to pressure him into getting rid of the woman who looked like Lydia. He knew how much she hated anything related to Lydia, let alone a living replica. But so what? His grandmother was gone. Charlotte had no other family, no one else to depend on. He was all she had. When she was a child, she would always hide when she was upset. His grandmother used to indulge her. He didn't have the patience for that. Once she’d had a taste of the real world, she’d realize how good she had it at the White estate. She’d come back. “She’s an orphan,” he’d told the butler. “Without the White family, where could she possibly go? No one is to look for her. Just let me know when she returns.” Under Travis’s glare, the interviewer quickly shifted the topic from his personal life to business. Talking about work, Travis visibly relaxed. It seemed the mere mention of his wife was enough to sour his mood. I poured myself a glass of ice water and started writing my resume. This little town was a place for the old to retire, not for the young to find work. I had to leave. I worked until dusk, finally stretching and getting up to make dinner. As I sat down to my simple meal of three dishes and a soup, I wondered if Leo was still working. Did he forget to eat when he was painting, the way Travis did when he was working? When his grandmother was still alive, Travis often worked through meals, getting terrible stomach cramps. After that, whenever I could, I would bring his dinner to the office. At first, his secretary would make me wait outside for an hour or two. But eventually, he got used to it and would let me interrupt him. He’d eat, then go back to work. I sighed, put on a jacket, and knocked on the gate next door. There was no answer. Just as I was about to turn away, the gate swung open. Leo’s annoyed expression immediately brightened into a wide smile when he saw me. “Charlotte! I was just painting you, and then you appeared, like magic.” He was still holding a paintbrush. There were streaks of paint on his clothes and a smudge on his cheek. He looked a mess, but his smile was so dazzling that the paint splatters seemed like charming accessories, making him look even more alive. “Have you eaten? Want to come over for dinner?” At my invitation, he clutched his stomach and let out a dramatic groan. “I’m starving! You’re a lifesaver, Charlotte! Let me just put my brushes away.” Over the next few days, we fell into a comfortable routine. He would come over for dinner every evening, and in return, he’d help with the cleaning, and he took over all the gardening work in my yard. It was nice. I’d never had a younger brother, but I imagined it would be something like this. I sent out my resume and got a few interview requests. On the morning I was set to leave, I went to say goodbye to Leo. When I opened my gate, I saw several black sedans parked in front of his cottage. Men in suits, looking like bodyguards, stood by the cars. I hesitated for a moment before walking over. As I approached, one of the men moved to block my path. “Don’t touch her!” Leo strode out of his cottage. The sunny, cheerful boy was gone, replaced by a man with a cold, serious expression. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his yard, slamming the gate shut behind us. “Don’t follow me in,” he ordered the men. They exchanged glances but obeyed. “Hey, Charlotte,” he said, his bright smile returning as if by magic. “Did you come to call me for dinner?” “No. I came to say goodbye.” His voice immediately jumped several octaves. “Where are you going?” I told him about the interviews. “This place is wonderful, but like you said on the mountain—every day is a new beginning, full of infinite possibilities. I want a new beginning for myself, a life without regrets.” “So, Charlotte… are you over him?” I looked at him, surprised. He just winked. “Don’t treat me like a kid. An artist’s eye is very sharp.” His directness made me blush. “Yes,” I said softly. “I think I am.” “So where are you going to work?” “Northwood City.” I had considered moving somewhere far away from Travis, but Northwood was the only home I’d known since I was a child. I grew up there, went to school there, my friends were there. Why should I force myself to start over in a strange new city, just because of him? “Then I’ll go with you,” he said. “Perfect timing, since my family found me anyway.” In the end, I hitched a ride with Leo. The nervousness I felt about returning to Northwood, about the possibility of facing Travis again, slowly faded as Leo chattered on and on about his plans for us. Life back in Northwood was surprisingly smooth. The interview went well, and I was told to start the following week. I found an apartment near the office. Two days later, Leo became my next-door neighbor again. I was taking out the trash when I saw movers carrying furniture into the apartment next to mine. I glanced over and saw the tall, lanky figure of Leo Baker, directing the workers. “What are you doing here?” “I was hoping to surprise you, but you caught me,” he said, casually taking the trash bag from my hands. “I missed your cooking, so I decided to be your neighbor again.” I was actually happy to see him. In a strange new place, having him next door made me feel safer. “Well, I’ll make a few special dishes tonight to celebrate your move.” For convenience, we decided on hot pot. The spicy broth bubbled, and Leo fished out a piece of tripe, placing it in my bowl. The first bite set my mouth on fire, and I grabbed my drink, gulping it down. “Oh, you can’t handle spicy food? I heard you loved hot pot, so I assumed…” “It’s fine. It’s just been a while.” How long had it been? I couldn’t even remember. I used to love hot pot more than anything. My grandmother would eat it with me, she’d have the mild broth, and I’d have the spicy. One time, Travis was working late, and the dinner I’d brought him had gone cold. It had started to snow outside, so I suggested we go out to eat. I took him for hot pot. Travis preferred bland food, so I ordered the half-and-half pot. But he frowned through the entire meal. “Don’t eat this again,” he said in the car on the way home. “The smell clings to you.” I never ate spicy hot pot again. It’s strange how, when you avoid something for long enough, even your own body forgets how to handle it. But soon enough, I was sweating and happily devouring my meal, rediscovering the simple joy of it. After dinner, Leo cleared the table, cleaned the kitchen, and opened the windows to air the place out. He took the trash with him when he left. Life in Northwood was calmer than I had expected. The media had forgotten about the long-absent Mrs. White, and no one from the White family came looking for me. My existence was, as always, insignificant. The media was, however, very curious about the new assistant Travis was never seen without. I idly scrolled through the paparazzi photos. It was almost comical. Did Travis truly love Lydia that much? In the photos, he bent down so the woman could adjust his tie. He carefully shielded her head as she got into the car. When it rained, he held the umbrella almost entirely over her. It seemed his love could be so easily transferred to anyone with a similar face. Travis had always been fiercely protective of Lydia’s privacy; no photos of her had ever been leaked. So now, everyone was speculating that I had been completely cast aside. If I were still in the mansion, I would probably be waiting up for a husband who never came home. But now, I was busy preparing presentations, attending meetings, dealing with… “Leo, I told you, you can’t be so clingy!” I pushed his head off my shoulder. He just pushed my laptop away. “You have a handsome man right here in front of you, and you’re staring at some old guy on a screen?” It was the first time I had ever heard anyone call Travis White an “old guy.” The thought of his reaction made me burst out laughing. When I finally caught my breath and looked up, Leo’s expression was serious. “Is he the one? The one who hurt you? Travis White of the White Corporation. I know him.” I looked at him, stunned. I had no memory of ever seeing Leo at the White mansion. “When I was a kid, my mom made me call him Uncle Travis.” “…” I lost it again, collapsing onto the sofa in a fit of laughter. “Hahaha… he’s only four years older than you, and you called him uncle… haha…” Leo pinched my cheek. “He looks old.” Travis had been involved in the family business from a young age, which had always made him seem more mature than his peers. So, he wasn’t entirely wrong. “So,” Leo said, his face suddenly very close to mine. “You’re the missing Mrs. White?” I realized that in my laughter, I had ended up with my head in his lap. I tried to sit up, but for the first time, he didn’t let me. His eyes were fixed on mine, demanding an answer. “Yes.” “So does that make me your boy toy on the side?” The thought made him laugh. I playfully slapped his arm. “Don’t be ridiculous! Besides, I’ve already left the White family. I gave him the ring back.” “Then I’ll get a lawyer. You two can be divorced by tomorrow.” “We don’t need to… we don’t have a marriage license.” I gave a bitter smile. No license, no divorce. The only thing that had ever bound us was a ring. Maybe I had played the part of Mrs. White for so long that even Travis had forgotten we weren’t legally married. “Perfect,” Leo said, his eyes gleaming. “In that case, why don’t you get a marriage license with me?”
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