Chapter 4 · My Husband Came Back Too

I took the invitation.

On the cover was the Northbridge University crest, and in small print: Guest Seats, Mr. and Mrs. Lane.

My stomach started hurting again.

The alumni group chat was gone, but word still got to me.

Rachel had posted a set of photos.

In the fitting room mirror, she was wearing a champagne-colored floor-length gown. She turned to look back over her shoulder, her collarbones sharp and elegant.

Her caption read: [Even if I'm only a supporting character, I still want to meet old friends with dignity.]

Everyone in the comments was full of praise and sympathy for her.

I changed into a red dress.

It was the boldest one in my closet, bright red satin, spaghetti straps, and a backless design.

I never wore this color in my previous life.

Edward once said, "Your skin is cool-toned. Wearing bright red makes you look cheap."

But I was going to wear it anyway.

The dinner was held at Centennial Hall at Northbridge University.

The chandeliers were blinding, and everyone was dressed to the nines. The air was thick with perfume and glamour.

I walked in by myself.

All eyes were on me. Some were sizing me up, some snickering, and some looking downright gleeful at my misfortune.

I barely made it ten steps before Rachel appeared from the crowd.

She was flanked by seven or eight admirers. When she saw me, she paused for a second, then made her way over on purpose. "Mrs. Lane."

Her voice was so gentle, like she was worried she'd scare a kitten. "I'm sorry. If my being here makes you uncomfortable, I'll leave right now, okay?"

As she spoke, she lowered her head a little, her shoulders hunching in, looking like she was ready to back off at any moment.

Everyone instantly started giving her those pitying looks.

And all the scorn was aimed at me.

I didn't even look at her. I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray.

Then, there was a commotion at the entrance.

Edward walked in, surrounded by a few university board members. He was dressed in a dark gray suit, his cufflinks catching the light.

His gaze swept across the hall.

His eyes passed over Rachel, the crowd gathered around her, and finally landed on me.

Then, with a blank expression, he turned away and headed straight for the stage.

It was like he was looking at a stranger.

One of Rachel's entourage suddenly raised his voice. "Well, well, Mrs. Lane. Here all by yourself? What's wrong, Mr. Lane not keeping you company?"

It was Jason Carter.

He was the guy everyone knew had a thing for Rachel back in college.

I didn't respond.

But he took that as a cue, swaggered over with his drink. As he passed me, he suddenly jabbed his elbow out, hard.

He wasn't aiming for me.

He sent the champagne tower crashing down right beside me.

With a loud smash, glass shattered and champagne sprayed everywhere.

The cold champagne poured over me from head to toe, my red dress soaked through and clinging to my skin.

For a moment, the whole room froze. Then laughter exploded; no one could hold it back anymore.

Jason spread his hands theatrically, but the corners of his mouth were lifted in a smirk. "Oops. Sorry about that."

More people crowded around.

"You were the one who made Rachel leave the country five years ago, weren't you?" someone asked.

"Rachel had to spend five years all alone overseas because of you. Don't you feel guilty?" another echoed.

"Come on, say it in front of everyone. Apologize to Rachel. Get on your knees and say you're sorry," someone else chimed in.

Rachel stood outside the crowd, hands pressed to her mouth, looking all innocent like she had no idea things would get this out of hand.

I took a step back, my back bumping into the Roman column behind me.

My dress was dripping with champagne, and there was a small pool of it in my heels.

The light from the chandeliers overhead was way too bright.

I lowered my head and slowly pulled something out of my purse.

It was a voice recorder.

It was gray and old, the corners scuffed and faded from years of use.

I never got to use it in my previous life, but this time, it's all I need.

I lifted my head, glancing past the angry faces and the ones here for the drama, and caught sight of Edward across the hall, surrounded by board members raising their glasses to him.

He set his glass down and finally seemed to notice the chaos over here, turning his head in my direction.

Our eyes met.

Then I turned around and hooked up the recorder to the mic by the Roman column. "You really believe Rachel was forced to swallow her pride and leave the country because of me?

"Then listen closely, here's the truth."

Chapter 4

I took the invitation.

On the cover was the Northbridge University crest, and in small print: Guest Seats, Mr. and Mrs. Lane.

My stomach started hurting again.

The alumni group chat was gone, but word still got to me.

Rachel had posted a set of photos.

In the fitting room mirror, she was wearing a champagne-colored floor-length gown. She turned to look back over her shoulder, her collarbones sharp and elegant.

Her caption read: [Even if I'm only a supporting character, I still want to meet old friends with dignity.]

Everyone in the comments was full of praise and sympathy for her.

I changed into a red dress.

It was the boldest one in my closet, bright red satin, spaghetti straps, and a backless design.

I never wore this color in my previous life.

Edward once said, "Your skin is cool-toned. Wearing bright red makes you look cheap."

But I was going to wear it anyway.

The dinner was held at Centennial Hall at Northbridge University.

The chandeliers were blinding, and everyone was dressed to the nines. The air was thick with perfume and glamour.

I walked in by myself.

All eyes were on me. Some were sizing me up, some snickering, and some looking downright gleeful at my misfortune.

I barely made it ten steps before Rachel appeared from the crowd.

She was flanked by seven or eight admirers. When she saw me, she paused for a second, then made her way over on purpose. "Mrs. Lane."

Her voice was so gentle, like she was worried she'd scare a kitten. "I'm sorry. If my being here makes you uncomfortable, I'll leave right now, okay?"

As she spoke, she lowered her head a little, her shoulders hunching in, looking like she was ready to back off at any moment.

Everyone instantly started giving her those pitying looks.

And all the scorn was aimed at me.

I didn't even look at her. I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter's tray.

Then, there was a commotion at the entrance.

Edward walked in, surrounded by a few university board members. He was dressed in a dark gray suit, his cufflinks catching the light.

His gaze swept across the hall.

His eyes passed over Rachel, the crowd gathered around her, and finally landed on me.

Then, with a blank expression, he turned away and headed straight for the stage.

It was like he was looking at a stranger.

One of Rachel's entourage suddenly raised his voice. "Well, well, Mrs. Lane. Here all by yourself? What's wrong, Mr. Lane not keeping you company?"

It was Jason Carter.

He was the guy everyone knew had a thing for Rachel back in college.

I didn't respond.

But he took that as a cue, swaggered over with his drink. As he passed me, he suddenly jabbed his elbow out, hard.

He wasn't aiming for me.

He sent the champagne tower crashing down right beside me.

With a loud smash, glass shattered and champagne sprayed everywhere.

The cold champagne poured over me from head to toe, my red dress soaked through and clinging to my skin.

For a moment, the whole room froze. Then laughter exploded; no one could hold it back anymore.

Jason spread his hands theatrically, but the corners of his mouth were lifted in a smirk. "Oops. Sorry about that."

More people crowded around.

"You were the one who made Rachel leave the country five years ago, weren't you?" someone asked.

"Rachel had to spend five years all alone overseas because of you. Don't you feel guilty?" another echoed.

"Come on, say it in front of everyone. Apologize to Rachel. Get on your knees and say you're sorry," someone else chimed in.

Rachel stood outside the crowd, hands pressed to her mouth, looking all innocent like she had no idea things would get this out of hand.

I took a step back, my back bumping into the Roman column behind me.

My dress was dripping with champagne, and there was a small pool of it in my heels.

The light from the chandeliers overhead was way too bright.

I lowered my head and slowly pulled something out of my purse.

It was a voice recorder.

It was gray and old, the corners scuffed and faded from years of use.

I never got to use it in my previous life, but this time, it's all I need.

I lifted my head, glancing past the angry faces and the ones here for the drama, and caught sight of Edward across the hall, surrounded by board members raising their glasses to him.

He set his glass down and finally seemed to notice the chaos over here, turning his head in my direction.

Our eyes met.

Then I turned around and hooked up the recorder to the mic by the Roman column. "You really believe Rachel was forced to swallow her pride and leave the country because of me?

"Then listen closely, here's the truth."