Chapter 3

The painting hanging behind her was one I'd custom-commissioned from a celebrated artist.

Just because Dan had once said he liked it, I had made a special visit, standing outside the artist's studio in high heels for an entire afternoon before finally persuading them.

Serena was a somewhat well-known travel blogger with a decent following.

I scrolled down.

The posts related to Dan first appeared three years ago.

Serena was holding hands with a man, the background our high school track.

"With my high school crush, finally!"

It was the same spot where, at eighteen, we had first held hands.

The night breeze was cool, and Dan's palms were sweaty from nervousness.

"When we're old and grey, let's come back here together."

In mid-August two years ago, on our wedding anniversary, Dan claimed he had to miss it because of work. Yet his posts showed him eating street food with Serena.

Last New Year's Eve, I was hospitalized with a high fever from the flu.

Dan appeared in Serena's TikTok, meticulously disinfecting a cut on her fingertip.

My hand, holding the phone, trembled.

Dan's face didn't appear in any of the photos.

But the familiar cufflink, the lines on his palm, made it impossible for me to keep lying to myself.

Serena's latest post refreshed.

The lace maid outfit in the picture was so revealing it made me sick to look at it.

"Bought it but forgot to pick it up. Good thing someone remembered. Tonight, I'm rewarding him."

So, that's what Dan had gone back to the apartment to get.

In the comments, a fan joked:

"You're living well! Your partner must adore you."

Serena replied: "I know, right? Today I asked him when he first fell for me."

"He said it was eight years ago, the day I first bravely confessed my feelings for him. He complimented my 'startlingly bright' eyes, said he could never forget them."

"Thinking he'd been thinking about me all these years just melts my heart."

Eight years ago was the day I caught them in bed.

I pressed my lips together tightly.

But the tears, disobedient, silently streamed down my face.

Serena posted another video.

The camera focused on a large bed strewn with rose petals.

A woman's voice giggled, "My fans want me to ask you, at thirty, do you have any new plans for our relationship?"

A man's low chuckle. "Plans?"

"I do want a baby, will you have one for me?"

The camera wobbled, and the sound of fabric violently rubbing together filled the air.

My fingertips went numb. I dialed Dan's number, pressing the wrong buttons several times.

The phone rang three times before it finally connected.

My voice trembling, I asked, "Dan, am I still in your future plans?"

He was silent for a few seconds, then casually replied, "Of course, why wouldn't you be?"

"Oh, by the way, my parents mentioned you had some big news for me. They've asked me about it several times, what is it?"

Serena's soft urging came from his end. "Dan, if you don't focus, I'll have to punish you, you know."

If I hadn't seen the video, I would have been foolish enough to believe it was his assistant.

My gaze fell on the shredded pregnancy test report in the trash can. I whispered, "Nothing."

The surprise was gone.

The past love, the future we'd envisioned together.

All gone.

Dan's voice took on a hint of anger.

"What's with the attitude?"

"I've turned down dozens of overseas collaboration opportunities for you, all because you're always so suspicious!"

"My meeting with a client tonight is also for our future. Can't you let me breathe for a moment?"

Tears streamed down again. I let out a soft laugh.

"Dan, you're right."

"I am being difficult."

"When you get back home, we're getting a divorce."