Chapter 2

The key turned in my apartment lock with a familiar click. As I pushed the door open, sunlight spilled through the doorway, catching dust motes that danced in the air like old friends greeting me.

This modest apartment on the east side of the city had been my first real purchase after landing my job. I'd lived here right up until the wedding. Though I had planned to sell it after getting engaged to Eugene, something had made me hold onto it.

"It's a smart investment," I'd told Eugene back then. Now, I thanked my past self for making that choice.

The rolling suitcase left faint tracks on the floor as I kicked off my high heels, my bare feet meeting the cool wooden floorboards.

Everything stood exactly as I'd left it—the knitted blanket casually draped over the beige sofa, the half-finished novel lying open on the coffee table, and the mug drying on the kitchen rack. The only difference was that now I was here alone.

I pulled open the curtains, letting sunlight pour in. Unlike the oppressive city views from Eugene's place, these windows offered only an aging residential area and a small park in the distance.

Yet somehow, this ordinary view settled something restless in my chest.

My phone buzzed insistently in my bag. I pulled it out and saw "Eugene" flashing on the screen. I stared at the name, my mind momentarily blank. Then, without a word, I silenced the call and tossed the phone onto the sofa.

What I needed was space from that suffocating new home, from Eugene, and from the memory of another woman in what should've been our wedding bed.

The bathroom's hot water scalded my skin as I scrubbed away the last traces of wedding perfume. My flesh pinkened under the relentless friction.

The steam clouded the mirror. When I wiped the glass clear, a stranger looked back—red-rimmed eyes swimming in dark hollows.

"Pull yourself together, Winifred," I said to the broken woman in the reflection.

After changing into comfortable loungewear, I began tidying up the apartment. The mindless work let my mind go blank, giving me a moment of peace.

Then, reaching deep into the closet, my fingers brushed against something solid—it was our college memory book.

I sank to the floor, crossing my legs as I lifted the cover. On the first page was a photo of Eugene and me, with the university library where we'd first met in the background.

During my sophomore year, I'd line up outside that library at 5 a.m. every morning to prepare for final exams.

One freezing morning, as I danced from foot to foot at the library entrance to keep warm, a steaming glass of milk appeared before me.

"Here, for your fingers." A tall guy with a beaming smile stood beside me. "I've noticed you come this early every morning. Impressive."

That was Eugene, two years my senior. As the vice president of the student council, he was the undisputed prince of our campus.

I took the milk, our fingertips brushing accidentally. We both jerked back as if shocked by a spark.

"I'm Eugene Shaw," he introduced himself.

"Winifred Jensen," I replied. And just like that, our story began.

As I continued flipping through the memory book, I rediscovered our lives—the stub from our first movie date, the first bundle of dried flowers he ever brought me, and our graduation photo with gowns billowing in the spring breeze.

Eugene had always been so thoughtful—he'd carefully preserved all these little mementos and compiled them into a memory book just for me.

After graduation, Eugene joined a multinational company while I started at an ad agency. Despite his busy schedule, he'd go out of his way every morning just to bring me breakfast.

"Your boyfriend's too sweet, Winifred," my coworkers would sigh.

Back then, Eugene's world revolved only around me.

Near the book's end, I found a photo from our engagement—Eugene was down on one knee, presenting a diamond ring, the sunset over the ocean glowing behind us.

Next to the photo was a small sticky note in his neat handwriting. [Winifred, meeting you was life's greatest gift. From this day forward, my eyes see only you.]

My fingers trembled over those written vows just as hot tears finally broke free, smudging the ink beneath them.

The same Eugene who'd sworn I was the only woman he'd ever need had shared wedding wine with another and then taken her to our wedding bed.