"Besides, you're unemployed. Reputation means nothing to you. Strangers can talk all they want—it won't change how I feel about you. I know the video is fake, and that's enough. But he's different. He has no one. His entire livelihood depends on media work. If his image is ruined, he loses everything."

Listening to her self-righteous justifications, all I felt was revulsion.

Unemployed. And whose fault was that?

Back then, she hadn't just pressured the company into firing me. She'd put the word out across the entire industry: anyone who hired me was making an enemy of her.

Interview after interview, I hit walls. When I finally landed a position at a small private studio, she filed malicious reports against us.

In the end, every single one of my media credentials was revoked. Just like that, I became the industry pariah everyone loved to hate.

I couldn't be bothered to argue with her. In half a month, I'd be free of all this.

Grandma had promised to clear my name when the time came. What they thought of me no longer mattered.

I stared at her, expression blank, then let out a long breath and rolled over onto the bed.

"Do whatever you want."

She thought I was about to beat Noel like I used to. She tensed up, planting herself in front of him like a shield.

But when I simply turned my back and lay down, every trace of her panic evaporated.

After a long silence, she asked in disbelief, "You're... you're not angry?"

My voice was flat. "Isn't this what you've always wanted? For me to get along with him?"

She relaxed, a laugh escaping her. "You've finally learned. I knew you weren't that heartless. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

I didn't respond. I didn't look at her once, not even as they left.

A long time later, I pressed my hand to my chest.

Nothing. Not even a flutter.

So this is what letting go feels like.

Over the following days, guilt seemed to gnaw at her. She brought me gifts every few days, undeterred by my indifference, rambling about the wonderful life we'd have together.

Then she brought up the baby's one-month celebration, and her tone turned careful.

"Noel will never be able to acknowledge his own child. So I was thinking... while the baby's still too young to understand, he could attend the celebration openly. As the father."

She paused. "It would give him closure. Don't you think?"

I didn't stop what I was doing. Didn't even look up.