Chapter 4

On the night of the rooftop party, Ivy wore a dark green dress.

When Julian and I arrived, she was leaning against the railing, sipping a drink. Seeing us, her smile paused briefly before she raised her glass with practiced ease.

"Maren, you made it too."

"Of course she came," Julian said. "We were invited together."

As he spoke, his palm settled naturally against the small of my back.

In the eyes of our friends, we were still an affectionate, close couple.

Julian pulled out a chair for me, remembered that I didn't like overly sweet wine, and even mentioned that I picked out his shirt when someone complimented how good it looked on him.

If I hadn't seen him walking out of that gourmet shop with Ivy three days ago, I might have actually believed he was still the husband I knew so well.

After dinner, someone suggested renting a house by the lake for the summer.

"Julian definitely won't dare get in the water," a friend teased. "Every time he claims he can swim, he ends up just standing on the shore."

Ivy had quite a bit to drink, and hearing that, she immediately let out a chuckle.

"He does swim, he just refuses to take off his shirt. That scar on his back—"

Her voice cut off abruptly.

The laughter around the table didn't fade right away, but it turned fragmented and awkward.

Ivy lowered her head to drink, while Julian glared at her, a hint of warning flashing across his eyes before he could hide it.

I set down my wine glass.

"You've seen the scar on his back?"

That scar was positioned very low, extending from his right shoulder blade down to his waist. Under normal circumstances, it was completely hidden when Julian wore a regular crewneck shirt.

"Ivy means the one on my shoulder," he chimed in right away.

"You don't have a scar on your shoulder."

The air fell dead silent.

Ivy opened her mouth. "We went swimming together with the group from cooking class before. I must have remembered the spot wrong."

"I never heard you mention going swimming."

Julian's hand slid away from my back. "It was just a last-minute decision."

A last-minute decision.

Just like going to the community center last minute, keeping Ivy company for lunch last minute, and handing over things that didn't belong to her one by one last minute.

On the ride home, Julian blamed me for questioning him in front of everyone.

"She let slip something you never told me." I stared out the car window. "Was I supposed to pretend I didn't hear it?"

"She drank too much and remembered wrong, that's all."

"Then tell me, when did she see it?"

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "I don't remember."

It was the first time he didn't even bother to craft a complete lie.

When we got home, Julian went straight to take a shower.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the unfinished sentence Ivy dropped earlier ringing continuously in my ears.

The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom.

I didn't go through his pockets, nor did I touch the phone he left on the nightstand.

I used to think that as long as I didn't check, our marriage was still built on trust.

Only now did I realize that trust wasn't about closing your eyes.

Closing your eyes only made the deception easier.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated.

Julian's name popped up on the screen.

I froze. The bathroom was just a few steps away, and I could even hear the sound of him unscrewing the shampoo bottle cap.

Maybe he had sent a reminder earlier, or maybe it was just an accidental touch.

I clicked on the message.

The next second, the running water inside the bathroom stopped abruptly.

Julian seemed to have finally realized that he had sent the message to the wrong chat window.

I stared at the screen, feeling as though my chest were being sliced open very slowly.

The text wasn't long. I recognized every single word, yet it took reading it three times to truly process its meaning.

"She already believes we were just having lunch that day. Tomorrow afternoon at our usual place. I miss you."