Chapter 1

A friend sent me some random street snaps from Disney.

She teased, "Hey, I spotted you and Philbert Wise in these pics."

But our trip to Disney wasn't until next week.

With a heart full of suspicion, I tapped open the photos and instantly spotted him in the crowd.

In the picture, Philbert was leaning in, carefully fixing the crooked headband on the girl beside him.

He looked so gentle—a side of him I'd never seen before.

The girl looked up at him, laughing, her lipstick smudging onto his chin.

He didn't bother to wipe it off and just ruffled her hair with nothing but affection in his gaze.

I just stared at them in the photo.

I'd spent three years asking him to take that photo with me. He never agreed, but now there he was, striking that couple pose with her like it was nothing.

And that was when it finally sank in: this marriage was just me, playing pretend all by myself.

I silently erased all my Disney plans from my phone.

I canceled our anniversary dinner reservation and booked a ticket to leave the country that same night.

From now on, our paths would never cross. May we never meet again.

*****

When Philbert came home, I was tucking my passport into the hidden pocket of my suitcase.

"It's just a trip to Disney. Do you really need to pack this early?" He tossed his trench coat onto the couch and wrapped his arms around me from behind.

The next moment, his warm breath brushed against my neck.

There was a trace of that sugary perfume clinging to him, a scent that wasn't mine at all.

It was Margaret Reese's favorite fragrance...

My hand paused, the edge of my passport leaving a faint red mark across my fingertip.

Without looking up, I murmured, "Yeah, I want to stay a little longer this time."

He let out a low chuckle, his hands impatiently slipping under my nightgown, kneading me with a hunger that brooked no delay.

Before I could say a word, his lips descended on me, smothering me in a storm of kisses.

But when his eyes caught the color of my lingerie, his movements came to an abrupt halt.

Philbert's brows drew together, a trace of dissatisfaction flickering across his face.

"Pink? Why are you wearing that?

"Seriously? You still think you're some twenty-something kid like Margaret?

"Pearl, you're pushing thirty. Can you please act your age for once?" he said.

Margaret. Always her. My half-sister—same dad, different mom.

That suffocating sense of helplessness washed over me again.

I was way past my prime.

My skin wasn't as tight as it used to be, and those tiny wrinkles were showing up around my eyes.

Sometimes, when I looked at myself in the mirror, I'd sigh at how ruthless time was, and wonder if Philbert was already sick of the way I looked now.

But he forgot who I used to be. And honestly, so did I.

When I was twenty, I'd wear those pink dresses—so young, so full of life.

All it took was one look, and I fell for a guy who'd never make me happy.

Just to please him, I tried to grow up and tone myself down.

And now? I'd ended up becoming someone I barely recognized and couldn't stand.

I watched in silence as he flung open the closet and pointed at an ordinary black bra.

"Put this on. It's more appropriate for you." His tone was as commanding as ever.

When I didn't react, he impatiently thrust the bra in front of my face.

Normally, I would have just taken it, slipping it on under his scrutinizing gaze without a word.

But this time, I didn't take it.

I just calmly closed my suitcase.

In a quiet, steady voice, I asked, "Philbert, did I just turn thirty overnight?"

Philbert paused, caught off guard, a look of shock flickering in his eyes.

But he quickly gave a mocking laugh and threw himself onto the couch.