Chapter 1

Six years after our divorce, I ran into Nathan Ford at the entrance of my alma mater.

I sat on my scooter and passed him his food delivery.

He was in a tailored suit, Porsche keys twirling between his fingers, and looked me up and down, completely stunned.

He blurted out, "Luna? You're out of prison?"

I answered, all business, "Mr. Ford, your order's arrived."

But Nathan lost his composure, ignoring the delivery bag and grabbing my wrist.

"A world-class pianist's hands are meant to create music, not do manual labor," he said.

I twisted my wrist calmly, revealing several long scars.

"Thanks to you, I can't play the piano anymore," I said.

His breath caught. He pressed a bank card into my hand and said firmly, "It's snowing out. Riding your scooter isn't safe. Stop taking orders, okay?"

I pulled my hand away, letting the card drop to the ground.

Nathan's voice was tinged with bitterness. "You really hate me that much? You'd rather run deliveries than take my money?"

I shook my head with a wry smile.

Why would I love or hate someone who'd already faded from my memory?

Seeing he still didn't take the bag, I set it down at his feet and started up my scooter.

But Nathan blocked my way, stubbornly refusing to budge.

He asked, "Luna, when did you get out of prison?

"How have you been doing?

"If things have been this rough, why didn't you reach out to me?"

He fired off question after question.

He gazed at me with such tenderness, like he was still that boy who once lived and breathed for me.

But it was just an illusion.

The old scars on my wrist throbbed with a dull ache. I pressed my hand to them and said coldly, "I'm doing fine. Please move out of my way."

Nathan let out a soft sigh and, without warning, grabbed my red, chapped hands.

He said, "You used to treasure your hands so much. Every winter, you'd wear leather gloves and wouldn't even go near cold water. How did they end up like this?"

Unexpected warmth rushed to my eyes from my hands, catching me off guard.

I pressed my lips together and yanked my hands back, not caring that the cracks split open again.

After two years behind bars, cold water was nothing. I'd taken more freezing showers in winter than I could count. Any spoiled habits I had were long gone.

Nathan's face was full of disapproval. "Luna, don't ruin yourself just to spite me."

I shook my head, giving him a faint, amused smile. "You're really overthinking this."

He clearly didn't buy it. He bent down and lifted my scooter. "The snow's coming down too hard. Let me drive you home."

I stopped him with a firm hand, my words slow and deliberate. "No, today's my brother's memorial. I'm going to pay my respects. I doubt he'd want you there."

Back then, at his grave, Nathan and Yolanda both bowed. One swore he'd love me forever, the other gratefully called me her sister. In the end, both stabbed me in the back.

My scooter hit the ground with a loud bang.

Nathan just stood there, silent, his fingers shaking.

His phone rang just then, pulling him out of the moment.

A sugary, coquettish voice floated out from the speaker. "Honey, is the food here yet? I've been rehearsing forever and my tummy's rumbling.

"Did the delivery guy take too long again? I'm totally giving her a bad rating."

Nathan hurriedly replied, "No, don't. I've already got the food."

The woman whined playfully, "Alright. Hurry up and get to the auditorium. The celebration's about to start."

Nathan's voice turned gentle as he soothed her.

In a daze, I saw myself from ten years ago.

Back then, he also cared for me so meticulously that even the water in my cup was always kept at body temperature.

Nathan's rushed explanation broke through my reverie.

He said, "Luna, Yolanda's pregnant, so her temper's a bit short lately. Don't worry about it. I'll make sure she doesn't leave you a bad review."

My hand instinctively drifted to my belly.

There was once a child I'd yearned for with all my heart, right here.

But the prison was merciless. On my thirteenth winter night behind bars, it left me, leaving me nothing but blood and heartbreak.

Nathan hesitated, his eyes lingering on my belly. "Luna, is your stomach hurting?"

I quickly dropped my hand and replied in a cool voice, "I'm fine. Congrats to you two."

"Luna, don't hate Yolanda. Back then, I had no choice but to make you go to jail in her place. She finally got into grad school, and her future was bright. She couldn't afford a criminal record." Nathan kept babbling excuses.

So my career as a world-class pianist was nothing to him?

I clenched my fists.

My scars throbbed again.

Nathan's eyes flickered with concern as he stepped in closer.

"Luna, whatever you want, just say the word. Money? A place to stay? A job? I'll help you with anything," he said.

"I don't need anything. I'm not lacking for anything," I shot back, taking a firm step away.

Nathan let out a frustrated sigh. "This isn't the time to act tough."

I absentmindedly touched the ring on my finger, not bothering to explain. I turned to leave with my scooter.

Right then, I ran straight into a group of alumni, who started cheering and crowding around us.

They said, "Isn't this the music department's star couple? Ten years since graduation, and we're still shipping you two."

"How old is your kid now? Bet your kid is a musical prodigy."

"It's the school's hundredth anniversary. Come on, you two have to play a duet."

I cut them off, raising my voice. "Hey, be careful with what you say. We split up six years ago."

I got thrown in prison so fast that I left with nothing.

While I was stuck in that cell, tormented by nightmares and sleepless nights, Nathan and Yolanda were out there cruising in my car, living in my house, and getting cozy in the bed I'd made with my own hands.

My nails dug so deep into my palms that the pain snapped me back from those hellish memories.

Nathan cleared his throat and tried to put his arm around me. "Even if we're divorced, we're still a couple."

With a crisp slap, I knocked his hand away. Shooting a cold look at the familiar figure coming our way, I let out a chilly laugh.

"Your real wife's here. Aren't you going to welcome her?" I said.