Chapter 2

"

At the door, he added gently: "From now on, just buy whatever you want; you don't need my signature. We're husband and wife, what's mine is yours. "

I clutched the signed divorce agreement in my hand, a faint, bitter smile touching my lips. "Damien, we won't be husband and wife for much longer. "

That night, I had a very, very long dream. In the dream, it was the first time I met Damien. I was eighteen that year, attending the Sterling family's gala with my father. He stood by the piano in a crisp black suit, long fingers holding a champagne flute, his face perfectly sculpted. It was love at first sight. Later, I boldly stole a kiss from him. He paused, then chuckled softly: "Little girl, that's not how you kiss. "

Then he cupped the back of my head and taught me what a real kiss was. That kiss was so long, so long, it left me breathless. Even now, thinking back, it feels like an ethereal dream. When I woke up, my pillow was soaked. Daylight had broken. After a long while, I picked up my phone and called my dad. "Dad, I got divorced," my voice was hoarse. "After I get the divorce decree, I'll come abroad to be with you. "

"Did Damien bully you? " Dad's voice immediately rose. "No," I gazed out at the brightening sky outside the window, "I just don't love him anymore. "

Actually, it was Damien who didn't love me. And I, too, would never love him again. I didn't utter those words, feeling as if I'd swallowed a piece of broken glass, letting it tear me apart inside. After hanging up, a SnapChat friend request popped up. On a whim, I accepted it. The person immediately sent a video. In the video, Damien was lightly dozing on the sofa, his brow furrowed, murmuring a name: "Isabelle…"

Immediately following the video, a long message arrived:

`This is Isabelle, Damien's first love. I never thought that after all these years, even after he got married, he still hadn't forgotten me. When I came back to the country today, I found he still has my name tattooed on his inner wrist, and all our photos, all the diary entries he wrote, are perfectly preserved. See, he's still calling my name in his dream; he must be dreaming of our past, after all, those were the first love days he'll never forget. `

I stared at the long message, my heart aching to the point of numbness. I only replied with one sentence: `What do you want? `

The other person replied after a long pause:

`Nothing, just want to take back what's mine. He's about to wake up. Don't you believe me? If I just say I had a nightmare, he'll stay with me for the next five days and won't contact you once. `

I didn't reply again. Ten minutes later, Damien's message came through:

`Baby, I have an urgent project and need to go on a five-day business trip. My secretary will be with you; feel free to contact him if you need anything. Take good care of yourself and the baby. `

I stared at the screen and suddenly laughed. As I laughed, tears streamed down, splashing onto my phone screen. For the next five days, Damien was indeed completely silent. But Isabelle's messages kept coming. Damien walking with her on the beach, taking her to watch the sunset from a mountaintop, driving her around the countryside…

Isabelle messaged: `These are all places we used to go when we were dating. `

I read every single message, then suddenly remembered Damien had taken me to those same places too. Back then, I thought he was being romantic. Now I understood; he was just revisiting old haunts, seeing someone else through my reflection. On the evening of the fifth day, I started packing. The jewelry Damien gave me, the bags, the clothes…

Everything related to him was packed into cardboard boxes and thrown into the storage room. When Damien rushed home, dusty and tired, he saw a walk-in closet that was half empty. He clearly froze for a moment: "Baby, what are you doing? "

I didn't even lift my head: "Nothing, just throwing away some useless stuff. "

Damien didn't overthink it, just smiled and handed me the gift in his hand—a limited edition set of illustrated books. Last month, I had casually mentioned wanting to collect them; I hadn't expected him to remember. "Baby," he naturally pulled me into a hug, his large hand caressing my lower abdomen, "Is your morning sickness still severe? Tomorrow's your prenatal check-up; I'll go with you. "

"No need. " I pulled away from his embrace. "No need anymore. "

Damien finally sensed something was wrong: "What do you mean, no need? Are you feeling unwell lately? "

A housekeeper chimed in: "Madam hasn't had much appetite these past few days; she's barely eaten anything. "

Damien immediately loosened his tie: "I'll go buy groceries and cook for you. All your favorites. Come on, eat a little, alright? "

As he turned, he didn't forget to instruct: "You all take good care of Madam. Make sure she doesn't bump or bruise herself. "

The housekeepers whispered enviously: "Mr. Sterling is so good to his wife…"

"You should find a husband who's older and knows how to dote on you…"

I listened quietly, a flicker of self-mockery in my eyes. Once, I too believed I had found the best love in the world. But only now did I understand that it was nothing more than a meticulously planned stand-in game. No sooner had Damien left than the doorbell rang. I opened the door, and a woman stood there, holding an exquisite box of pastries.