Chapter 2

And that woman turned out to be Emily. The doubts that had left my heart dangling for so long finally crashed down on me.

My relationship with Ryan was anything but sweet; it was as bland as water. Dates were rare, photos with him even rarer, and his icy, distant personality made him impossible to read. Still, whenever I recalled the words he spoke to me that day on the playground, I still felt sweetness within.

When did things start to feel off?

We got our marriage license in a single morning. By the afternoon, Ryan was already back at work. He called from the office, saying some files hadn't synced from the computer at home, and asked me to send them over.

That's when I accidentally opened a folder named "Her." Inside were thousands of photos, chronicling a girl's everyday life—from her middle school years all the way through college.

Within it was a subfolder titled "My Emily," filled with photos of the two of them together. The girl's features resembled mine, but she was more vibrant and flamboyant.

I froze. Ryan had never mentioned an ex-girlfriend. Of course, it wasn't something he was obligated to tell me, but seeing so many photos—something just squeezed the air right out of my lungs.

That night, I tried to sound casual as I asked, "Who's Emily?"

He was dismissive. "Just the girl from next door," he said, and left it at that.

The next day, when I tried to get into his computer again, I found out he'd locked me out with a password.

The questions I had back then were finally answered today, however cruel the truth.

A sharp pain erupted in my chest and spread quickly through my limbs, leaving me numb.

Just then, my phone chimed with a new notification. I instinctively scooped it up from the floor and unlocked it.

It wasn't from Ryan, but from one of his so-called friends.

It was a photo of Ryan and Emily Owens embracing in a bar, along with a message: [The cuckoo stole the nest, but now the magpie's back. Guess what happens to the cuckoo?] He had even added a smirking emoji.

I glanced at the date we became contacts—2019. This was the first message he'd sent in four years, and it was for this.

I gave a bitter laugh.

Ryan's friends had always been cold to me. I wasn't part of their circle, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never fit in. Eventually, I began politely declining all their invitations.

At first, Ryan would ask me to go once or twice, but when he realized I kept refusing, he just gave up.

I stared at that message for a long time without replying.

A moment later, another message came in.

[So you really climbed into his bed just for some cash, huh?]

The words were so nasty and degrading that my mind just buzzed with shock. The air caught in my throat, and the screen began to blur.

My hand was shaking so badly I couldn't control it.

So, his friends had known all along.

This wasn't about not fitting in—it was just naked mockery and contempt, right in my face.

Even when I tried to avoid them, they'd still hunt me down and throw all their ugliness right in my face.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over.

With trembling hands, I pulled up a photo of our marriage certificate from my gallery and sent it over.

I shot back: [Did you graduate from the School of Not Knowing Jack? You even know what a cuckoo actually is? Come on, once the cuckoo's taken over the nest, why the hell would it care about the magpie? You trying to be a comedian or what?] Then I immediately blocked him.

I opened my social media feed. The third post was about Ryan. The caption read: [My buddy's childhood sweetheart is finally back in town! Congrats!]

In the video, Ryan's eyes were filled with a tenderness I'd never seen before.

He was smiling, all warm and doting, as he carefully fastened a ruby necklace around a woman's neck. It was a treasured heirloom, passed down from his grandmother to his mother, and then to him.

Yesterday, while tidying the study, I found the necklace lying on his desk. I thought he had been saving it to give me for our four-year anniversary.

But I had only been fooling myself—it had been meant for her all along.

Ryan gazed at Emily like she was a priceless treasure. After fastening the necklace, he tenderly brushed her hair into place, his eyes full of devotion.

"Welcome back," he said, his tone gentle and brimming with affection.

Emily gave a soft smile and stepped into his arms.

Cheers rose around them as Emily lowered her blushing face against his chest.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

So this is what it feels like to be loved.