Chapter 1

To surprise my boyfriend Edward Grant, who was battling severe depression, I secretly used our entire savings to secure his dream studio.

Once I had the keys, I called my best friend Susan Ray to help me clean the place.

She walked in carrying a bunch of sunflowers and said sincerely, "Edward's the luckiest guy on the planet to have you."

Then she told me she'd been going through something too. She'd fallen for someone she shouldn't have—a man carrying a wound that wouldn't heal. She didn't know how to reach him.

I encouraged her, "Let your warmth shine on him. Even the iciest heart will thaw."

She felt encouraged and said she'd take a leap for love.

That night, I excitedly sent Edward a photo of the studio keys, but he just replied with a period.

Uneasy, I opened the viewers list of his Instagram story. The most recent view was from Susan.

I clicked on Susan's profile and saw she'd posted a photo of the studio half an hour ago, captioned: [Thank you, my sunshine.]

Edward had commented: [Welcome home, my lady.]

*****

The phone slipped from my trembling hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.

Those words—Welcome home, my lady—hit me like a brand seared into flesh, cutting and burning all at once.

I took a deep breath and told myself it must be a misunderstanding.

Yes, it had to be.

Susan was just there to help me clean the studio, and Edward was probably just joking. His mood had improved so much lately—maybe he was just being playful.

Hands shaking, I picked up my phone and stared at those words again and again, hoping to find some sign it was just a joke.

But those words were sharp and clear, cutting through me like knives.

I called Edward.

The ringing dragged on, so long that my nails pressed into my palm, drawing blood.

"Hello?" His voice finally came through, sounding unusually light and cheerful.

I forced my voice to stay steady. "Edward, where are you?"

"At the studio," he replied, as though it were obvious. "Susan came over today to help set things up, and we're just finishing up. Charlie, you off to bed? I'll give you a proper tour tomorrow—surprise you."

Surprise.

Coming from him, that was pure dark comedy.

Gritting my teeth, I pressed on. "Is she still there?"

"Yeah," Edward replied casually. "She wanted to finish arranging the sunflowers before leaving. So attentive."

Attentive.

He called her attentive.

He used to say the same about me, that I was the most attentive girl in the world—the only one who could read him like a book.

But now, that word was Susan's.

"Well, you two... take your time." My voice finally gave out, starting to tremble. "I'm tired. I'm gonna go to bed."

As soon as I hung up, I collapsed onto the floor, curled up tightly, and pressed my hand over my mouth to muffle my cries.

Maybe... maybe I really was just imagining things.

They were just arranging the studio, weren't they?

I desperately tried to convince myself: Susan was my best friend, she'd never betray me. Edward depended on me so much. He couldn't possibly love someone else?

But what on earth did "Welcome home, my lady" really mean?

I grabbed my car keys, still wearing my slippers, and rushed out the door.

I needed to see it with my own eyes.

Only then could I finally give up.

The night wind was icy, slicing across my face like a knife.

My fingers were white-knuckled on the steering wheel as I frantically replayed every detail in my mind.

Susan had been talking about Edward a lot lately—always saying things like, "Edward seems so much better these days," "Edward painted something really cool today," or "Edward said this, Edward said that."

Back then, I secretly felt grateful, thinking she was just paying extra attention to him to help me out.

Edward really had gotten better—he wasn't staying up all night anymore, and he'd even started to smile now and then.

I thought it was my company that made the difference.

But now, thinking back, maybe those smiles weren't because of me after all.

I pulled up across from the studio.

Sitting in the darkness, I locked my eyes on the window glowing with light.

Susan was wearing the off-white dress I'd bought her, up on her tiptoes, placing the sunflowers into a vase.

Her movements were so natural, like she was right at home.

Edward stood behind her, paintbrush in hand, watching her every move.

It was a gaze I'd never seen in his eyes before.

Tender, focused, and intensely passionate.

My heart froze, but I kept trying to convince myself: Maybe it was just a grateful look—after all, Susan had helped out.

The next second, Edward slipped his arms around Susan's waist from behind, resting his chin gently on her shoulder.

They stood together, gazing at the bouquet, like lovers lost in their own world.

My breath stopped.

No, that wasn't it.

They were just a little too close. Maybe... maybe now that Edward's depression was getting better, he was not so averse to physical contact anymore.

Yes, that had to be it.

But then Susan turned and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

Edward smiled, looking so carefree, then lowered his head and kissed her on the lips.

Everything shattered before my eyes.

All my self-delusions, all my dreams, were blown to pieces in that moment.

I bit down hard on the back of my hand, the salty, metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

The pain brought me back to my senses, but only made my despair cut even deeper.

So the iceberg Susan always talked about—the one who needed to be melted by sunshine—was Edward all along.

She really did take that leap for love.

She was brave, all right—brave enough to drive the knife straight into my heart.

And me? I poured every penny I had and all my hopes for the future into this place, only to hand them their perfect love nest with my own two hands.

I was nothing but the most pathetic joke in the world.

The lights in the studio, blurred by my tears, burned like the fires of hell.

And there I stood—at the very gates of hell—watching the people I loved most hold each other in paradise.