A lightbulb flickered in Celine Evans’ mind. She stood up and padded back to her room, rummaging through the deepest part of a drawer to pull out a calendar.

It was covered, wall-to-wall, with countdowns she’d meticulously marked over the years.

Now, she added another tally.

Countdown to Divorce: 10 Days Left!

No one knew that Celine, who had clung to this marriage with gritted teeth, looked forward to one thing every single day:

Leaving Dante Williams.

She’d been waiting a whole decade for this.

Celine hailed from the sticks, a tiny, dirt-poor village. She was a brainy kid, a real scholar in the making, or so her teachers claimed. But her family had zero cash for higher education.

She’d figured her life was destined to fizzle out in that forgotten corner of the world.

Then, BAM, the Williamses entered the picture. Their company had a charity program, and when they heard her story, they offered to sponsor her.

Celine was fifteen. Thanks to their backing, she could ditch her hometown and head to the city for school.

More importantly, they saved her from an arranged marriage her parents were pushing. She got to study, she got her freedom.

Back then, she swore those two were her guardian angels, and she’d repay them forever.

But just three months after she’d arrived in the city, a freak car accident snatched them away.

Celine was in the middle of an exam. When the news hit, she bolted for the hospital, no questions asked.

The place was mobbed. Being from a humble background, Celine couldn't shove her way to the front.

She could only catch glimpses through the crowd of Mr. and Mrs. Williams, hovering between life and death.

In their final moments, Celine saw her benefactors. Their eyes were wild, fixed on their only son, tears streaming, a silent plea in their gaze.

That was also the first time she laid eyes on the young man named Dante Williams.

Back then, Dante sat by the bedside, his usual swagger gone, his eyes raw as he kept vigil for his parents.

Celine had planned to properly thank Mr. and Mrs. Williams when she grew up, but fate had other plans.

Seeing the Williamses close their eyes with such profound regret, Celine made a silent vow.

She would step into their shoes and look after Dante.

So, she gave herself ten years to settle this debt of gratitude.

From that day on, everyone in the city knew the story of the country bumpkin girl dreaming of a Cinderella fairytale, dogging the footsteps of the young master of the Williams family like a constant shadow.

Celine paid it no mind.

She just poured everything into being good to Dante. When he wanted to marry her, she said yes.

When he wanted to humiliate her, she took it.

She sacrificed a decade of her life to pay off her debt to the Williamses.

And now, that ten-year mark was just ten days away.

Clutching the countdown chart, Celine recalled how casually Dante had tossed his wedding ring aside.

She figured, maybe this was for the best. When she brought up divorce, he’d probably be thrilled.

Over these ten years, it wasn’t like Celine’s heart had never skipped a beat.

She had to admit, Dante was a total dreamboat.

That one time he glanced back during a high school football game, laughing with his buddies in a sun-drenched polo shirt. The moment he slipped the ring onto her finger at their wedding.

Those were fleeting sparks, moments where Celine’s heart did a little flip. But they were just that – moments.

Such flutterings had long since faded, battered and bruised by wave after wave of torment.

In the end, only the lingering echo of her debt remained.

She lowered her gaze, collected herself, and put the calendar back in the drawer.

That evening, Dante finally rolled home.

Celine, as always, had his dinner ready, along with hot water and slippers.

And she said nothing about Isabella Lopez.

Dante, however, made no move to hide it, taking Isabella’s call right in front of her.

On the phone, Isabella asked if he was free for her recital in a few days.

They’d obviously been hanging out recently, so Celine didn’t buy that Isabella was only calling now.

She probably knew Dante was home and called just to stir the pot.

Celine ate her dinner in silence.

“Got it, Bella. I’ll pencil you in for Saturday,” Dante agreed with zero hesitation.

He hung up and looked over at Celine, who was still calmly eating.

Sensing his gaze, Celine knew she had to say something to avoid making it awkward.

“Is that Isabella? She’s back in town?”

Dante nodded, then threw her a curveball: “Aren’t you gonna ask where I’ve been the last few days?”