On my birthday, the cake was a three-tiered Black Forest, adorned with golden numerals reading "30." I stood in the center of this villa wearing a wedding dress refitted into a gown, like the star of a grand performance. But I knew—after tonight, I’d never wear this dress again. Mother-in-law Margaret cut the first slice herself, smiling as she handed it to me: “Sophia, being Leo’s wife—it hasn’t been easy, has it?” The room fell silent. Her eyes were gentle, her tone sweet, but the cake landed squarely on the tip of my shoe, chocolate cream splattering up my gown. “Oh dear, slipped,” she sighed. “Getting old, not as steady anymore.” No one came to help. Not even the waiters moved. Guests whispered and smirked; my husband kept his head down. I crouched slowly and wiped the chocolate off with my fingertips, one smear at a time. Counting silently: How many times now? Seventh? Eighth? Giving up my Ph.D. at his request—he said, “Let me carry this for you.” Learning to entertain clients, drinking until I bled from the stomach—he said, “You’ve worked so hard, baby.” Emptying ten years of youth into this family, only to hear, “You’ve changed.” Only yesterday did I overhear the truth in the study. Margaret sat on the leather sofa, calm and deliberate: “Women are either obedient or gone. If she leaves on her own, saves us the trouble of pushing.” And Leo, standing in the shadows, paused—then said only: “Mom, she’s my wife.” I thought he would protect me. But when I collapsed in the bathroom, vomiting blood, trembling against the wall, all he gave me was a tissue: “Don’t make a scene. There are still guests.” That night, my phone rang. Caller ID: NASA. “Congratulations, Ms. Sophia. You have officially been appointed Chief Astronaut of the Dawn Mission. Launch time—seventy-two hours from now.” I stared at the screen. No tears came. Instead, I smiled. On the eve of launch, I suited up in my flight gear, standing before the fully-prepared spacecraft. A reporter asked, “Do you regret it? Leaving behind a family you once loved?” I looked to the stars, voice eerily calm: “I didn’t leave. I simply returned to the orbit that was always mine.” Countdown began. Ten, nine, eight… I glanced toward Earth. There—a weeping bride, a shattered cake, knives hidden behind smiles. Three, two, one. Ignition. At liftoff, gravity pressed me deep into my seat— just like all those years they tried to nail me into their cage called “family.” But now— I’m free. The atmosphere tore open. Stars rushed toward me. Through the comms, mission control said: “Sophia, good luck.” Softly, I replied: “Don’t wish me luck. From now on, I only trust my own light.” Ex-astronaut Elena endures family's cruelty and Lucas's mistress Sophia's schemes. After being framed, she secretly joins Mars mission. During final days, Sophia manipulates Elena's son while Lucas makes empty promises. Elena leaves Earth heartbroken, leaving Lucas desperate to find her. Can Lucas really find Elena? And will she choose to forgive him again?