Chapter 2

When I got back from the bar, it was two or three in the morning.

I looked up to find Michelle crouched by my door.

This was always what she did after screwing up.

"George, I went to the bar but couldn't find you. Your phone's off too."

"How much did you drink? You can barely stand."

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up inside."

Michelle rushed up to me excitedly, acting like nothing had happened as she fussed over me.

I shoved her away hard. "Get lost! Don't touch me!"

Michelle froze, her eyes wounded.

"George, the event company pranked us. The video was deepfaked."

"I've already hired a lawyer to sue them. I'll definitely find evidence..."

"I took the video myself."

I looked at her coldly. "You were so into that kiss outside the room, you didn't even notice I was nearby."

Michelle's face went white. She stood there frozen and lost.

My stomach was full of alcohol. The slightest stimulation made it churn.

I shoved past Michelle blocking my way and dove into the bathroom, hugging the toilet as I vomited until tears streamed down my face.

Michelle followed me the whole time.

Handing me tissues, finding hangover medicine, cooking noodles—silently taking care of me without a word.

But every second, my mind replayed the scene of her passionately kissing her ex.

Seeing her meticulous care now just felt jarring and laughable.

"Michelle, I don't want to see you anymore. Leave my house right now."

Suddenly, the sound of a bowl shattering came from the kitchen.

She didn't say anything for a long moment.

After a while, she placed the cooked noodles in front of me and cleaned up the broken pieces herself.

"George, just calm down for now. I'll come back in a few days so we can talk properly."

I leaned back on the couch, hand weakly covering my eyes.

"Get out."

I didn't touch anything on the table. I slept on the couch all night with my arms wrapped around myself.

Early the next morning, someone pounded on my door.

The moment I opened it, my dad charged in without caring if he knocked into me.

"George! Did a donkey kick you in the head?"

"Michelle's a daughter of a wealthy family. Of course she has an ex—that's completely normal. Once you're married you'll have everything. You'd ruin the wedding over something so trivial!"

"All our friends and family were there—where am I supposed to put my face!"

My head was splitting from his ranting. I said weakly:

"Dad, did you not see the video from the venue?"

"She was checking into a hotel with her ex the day before our wedding..."

My dad waved his hand dismissively, refusing to listen.

"Don't give me that!! Michelle's fourth-generation wealth. Men lining up to marry her. This happened because you couldn't keep her satisfied.

If you had what it takes to make her devoted to you alone, this wouldn't have happened. You're about to move up a whole social class.

You want to just walk away? You're 30 years old—where are you going to find another woman who can help you more than Michelle?"

I wasn't surprised at all to hear these words from my dad.

He had no bottom line when it came to money, especially rich women. But I couldn't be like that.

"Dad, if you like Michelle so much, why don't you have her call you daddy."

My dad was so furious his mustache bristled. He raised his hand to slap me.

I'd drunk too much last night and hadn't eaten a thing. With this provocation, my stomach cramped painfully and something started forcing its way up.

I shoved my dad aside and rushed to the toilet, retching violently.

My dad kept going, saying I didn't know how to be flexible, had irregular eating habits and loved drinking.

But every sentence ended with Michelle.

"Michelle's beautiful and considerate, with an unmatched family background. If you don't hold onto her, she'll immediately find someone more handsome, more capable, and more understanding than you. Then you'll have nowhere to cry."

His words traveled down the hallway and pierced straight into my ears.

I suddenly remembered that desolate-looking man from last night.

The delayed realization hit me like a sledgehammer pounding my heart.

"Such a grown man who can't even clean up. Why is there blood on the floor?!"

"Only Michelle would put up with you. Any other woman would've blown the roof off by now."

I slammed the door hard and buried myself under the covers.

I curled up into a ball, wrapping myself so tightly in the blanket that no air could get through, and broke down sobbing.