Chapter 3
In the picture, Emily and Andrew stood shoulder to shoulder under the oak in the courtyard.
She was smiling brightly, looking straight at the camera.
Andrew, standing next to her, turned his head to look at her, his eyes soft and full of devotion, like she was the only person that mattered to him.
Tears kept falling, splashing onto the screen right at her smiling eyes.
It turned her smile in the photo into something almost mocking, painfully ironic.
With trembling hands, Emily changed the lock screen she'd had for eight years.
She was wrenching out the person she thought she could never let go of, tearing him from her heart.
Andrew kept calling, one after another.
Emily kept hanging up each time, and finally, with shaky legs and a heavy heart, she walked home.
Inside the house, Andrew heard the commotion and rushed out.
When he saw her, he let out a sigh of relief, though his voice still carried a hint of lingering worry and frustration. "Where did you go? Why didn't you answer your phone?"
Emily's voice was laced with sarcasm. "What, are you scared I'll throw myself into the sea again?"
Andrew's face turned uglier, impatience practically radiating from his eyes. "Emily, stop using your life to threaten me! Is this the only way you know how to torture me and get my attention?"
Emily stopped in her tracks, staring at him in a daze.
When she witnessed Andrew's infidelity with her own eyes back then, she couldn't accept it.
Every time she remembered it, she'd get violently sick.
In seven days, she lost more than ten pounds.
She hurled every cruel word she could muster at him, slapped him over and over, and cracked three of his ribs.
When she wanted to divorce, he dropped to his knees and begged for forgiveness again and again.
But she couldn't forgive herself.
After more than ten sleepless nights, her mind finally snapped, and she accidentally fell into the sea.
She spent five days in the ICU before she finally pulled through.
From then on, Andrew never left her side, taking whatever hits and curses she threw at him, always walking on eggshells around her.
'So in his eyes, everything I did was a desperate bid for his love?' Emily thought bitterly.
Andrew's expression shifted as he looked at her pale face.
He acted like nothing had happened, turned around, and grabbed the box from the coffee table. "These are your favorite strawberry tarts. I made a special trip to get them for you. Go ahead, try one."
Emily looked at the box of strawberry tarts, but all she felt was a bitter ache in her chest.
She'd already heard it all on the car's dashcam.
After he and Olivia had sex, she snuggled up to him, acting all cute and saying she was hungry.
Andrew drove out to buy her three boxes of macarons. The strawberry tarts were a freebie from the shop.
This had become routine for them lately.
Every time they touched a nerve, as things were about to erupt, he'd pretend nothing happened and simply change the subject.
And she'd play along, keeping up that shaky illusion of happiness between them.
But this time, she didn't want to keep playing along with him anymore.
Andrew watched Emily's hesitation, a flicker of restrained impatience crossing his face. "What's wrong?"
He probably hadn't bothered to check his reflection before coming home.
Right now, there were still a few messy lipstick smudges on his collar. And behind his ear, where he couldn't see, was a fresh hickey.
These were Olivia's silent mark of possession, a bold provocation, and a show-off.
Emily shook her head, her voice tired. "I don't like this flavor anymore."
After ten years, she'd been sick of it for ages. She only kept eating it before because she didn't want to hurt his feelings.
She turned to head upstairs, but Andrew grabbed her arm.
He sounded downright exasperated. "Emily, how long are you going to keep acting like this? You—"
Before he could finish, Emily blacked out.