Chapter 3

And that was how things went until about half a year ago, when I started picking up on some suspicious signs.

That day, my stomach was acting up again. And just when I needed rest, I had an important meeting looming and realized I'd left a crucial document at the company.

At eleven that night, I dragged my aching, exhausted body back to the office building.

Almost the whole floor was dark, except for a soft glow spilling out from the CEO's office.

I thought David was still working overtime, and for a moment, my heart ached for him.

He really was the same David—still grinding away for his dreams, throwing everything he had into work just like back in the day.

I pushed through my stomach pain and slipped into that familiar alley by the office, grabbing a spicy stew he'd always loved.

Years ago, he'd be buried in work late at night, sniffling and tearing up as he scarfed down the spicy stew, forcing himself to stay awake and keep hustling.

Coming up on the CEO's office, I couldn't help but think back to the narcissus flowers I'd planted there for David.

Back in those days, I was always on the road for work, hardly ever home. Worried he'd miss me, I actually potted my favorite flowers right on his desk.

I used to tease him, "Whenever you see those flowers, it's just like I'm right there with you."

Now I couldn't help but wonder—did those little plants end up blossoming into something beautiful?

Just picturing it made my lips curve into a smile, and before I knew it, my pace picked up, a little lighter with every step.

The office door was left slightly open, which was odd. David was always particular about his privacy. How could he just leave it like that?

I raised my hand, ready to knock, but through the gap, what I saw made my heart stop. It was a moment I'd never get out of my head, no matter how hard I tried.

The narcissus I'd lovingly cared for on his desk—my absolute favorite, a symbol of purity and reunion—had wilted to a sickly yellow, dumped in the corner like it was just trash.

And in the elegant porcelain pot that used to hold my precious flower, bold white lotuses had taken over, blooming shamelessly in its place.

But what burned into my eyes even more was the scene right behind David's desk: two figures tangled up together.

David lounged in his huge office chair, and Kerry was sitting right on his lap, her clothes all rumpled and half-off.

David was kissing Kerry's collarbone, muttering dirty words under his breath.

He said, "You're way younger and prettier than her. She's always dead inside, cold as a corpse—so stiff that I can't even stand to touch her. But you, Kerry, you're soft, and you always know how to please me."

Kerry giggled seductively. "So, when will you finally divorce her? I'm tired of sneaking around in secret. I want to be with you every day, always close and intimate like this."

"Soon, babe, soon..." David panted, "Once I lock down that east side project and everything's secure. She won't matter to me anymore."

"Dave, you're being rough with me..." Kerry pouted, her voice sweetly teasing.

"Isn't that what makes it thrilling, Kerry?" David whispered back.

It hit me like a thunderclap. My mind went completely blank.

A sudden, violent cramp seized my stomach, and the pain was so intense that it flooded my whole body. I nearly collapsed, clutching the icy wall just to stay upright.

The spicy, mouthwatering aroma of the food next to me only made my nausea worse, churning my stomach until I almost retched.

That was my husband.

That was the man I'd stuck with through thick and thin, helping him build everything from the ground up until he had the success he has now.

That was the man who used to get so worried when I had stomachaches and wished he could take the pain for me.

That was David, the one who always kept our secret marriage under wraps, so private that he never let anyone know. But now, just for a thrill, he left his office door wide open, not caring who might see.

A suffocating tidal wave washed over me. It felt like I couldn't breathe at all.

I stood frozen at the door, stunned by the humiliating scene unfolding inside. A high-pitched buzzing filled my ears, drowning out everything else.

The narcissus had wilted, while the white lilies were blooming, proud and beautiful.

My love and my marriage had turned into a cruel and bitter joke.

A wave of nausea crashed into my throat, and I slapped a hand hard over my mouth, desperate to keep even the faintest whimper from escaping.

Tears flooded my eyes, spilling down my cheeks and turning everything into a blurry, half-lit haze.

I didn't burst in, didn't shout, and didn't demand anything.

When the agony finally began to fade, what was left behind was a cold, chilling clarity that made my blood run ice-cold.

Clinging to the wall, I stumbled backward, desperate to escape like I was running from ground zero of a disaster.

The spicy stew I'd brought had already crashed to the floor by the doorway.

Once I'd made it out to the deserted hallway, I pressed myself against the cold wall, struggling to breathe, shaking all over.

After a long while, I raised my hand and fiercely wiped the tear tracks from my face with my sleeve.

I took out my phone, set it to silent, opened the camera, and step by step made my way back toward that office.

Peering through the gap in the door, I recorded the two of them, still completely wrapped up in each other.

Every second of footage, every word exchanged, became cold evidence, freezing away every last bit of hope and softness in me.

After that night, I knew that my marriage wasn't just broken, it was over.

But I didn't explode, not at first. Deep down, I held onto this pathetic hope, almost laughing at myself for it.

Maybe it was just a stupid, temporary mistake on his part, and maybe all those twelve years we'd shared would actually mean something. Maybe, just maybe, he'd remember and come back to me.

I deliberately knocked over that bowl—the spicy stew only the two of us knew the meaning of—right there at the doorway on purpose. It was my silent warning to him, a way to tell him: end it before you go too far.

But what did he do?

He kept secretly flirting with Kerry, always coming up with excuses to stay out late, acting completely blind to every sign I gave him.

Day by day, I felt my heart growing colder, dying piece by piece.

He knew I'd figured it all out, but that only made him bolder, like he didn't care at all.

He believed, deep down, that I would never walk away from him.