Chapter 1

Alex Foster's always been mean with his words since childhood. He roasted the girl who sat next to him so badly that she transferred schools, and his cruel words drove his friend into social withdrawal.

No one escaped his wrath, until I became the exception when we got to college.

His buddies used to joke that I was only the second person on earth who could get Alex to speak like a normal human being.

But three months after I had our baby, Alex suddenly started lashing out at me with harsh words, out of nowhere, which made me fall into postpartum depression, and I ended up self-harming countless times.

That day, after ignoring me for ages, Alex finally took me out to a party with his friends.

I went to the bathroom halfway, and when I came back, I caught some of their conversation by the door.

"Alex, don't forget, you only ever saw Karina Evans as a stand-in for Sophie. You spent half a year hurting her, all because you were trying to get Sophie back," someone said.

"And you only had a baby with her back then because Sophie couldn't have kids," another echoed.

"Now you're saying you're not getting divorced?" someone else chimed in.

Meanwhile, I ran my fingers over all those scars on my wrist, marks left from self-harm during postpartum depression, thanks to Alex's harsh words. Honestly, it was almost laughable.

"So that's why he treated me like that these days. It wasn't because I'd done anything wrong. I was always someone else's substitute."

*****

One of his friends snapped, "Alex, are you out of your mind? You've flown overseas and back 120 times this past year, all for Sophie.

"You insulted and bullied Karina, all to get Sophie back.

"And now that Sophie's finally said yes, you're hesitating? Don't fucking tell me you've actually fallen for Karina."

One of his friends grabbed Alex by the collar.

But Alex, usually quick to snap at people, didn't even react. He knocked back another drink.

His friend was pissed. "You know what? Stay with Karina for the rest of your life. Plenty of people want Sophie besides you.

"If you don't want her, I'll take her."

Yet Alex, who had been silent on the chair a moment ago, was enraged by this remark.

He knocked his friend out with a single punch, his voice cold enough to kill. "If you dare lay a finger on her, you're dead."

I couldn't help but scoff at myself after hearing all that. Turns out, I wasn't the only one playing the role of a stand-in.

Even the child we struggled so hard to have, enduring countless injections, choking down supplements until we were sick, was only a last resort to fill his regret, born simply because she couldn't conceive.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. I burst through the door and snapped, "No need to wait for your precious Sophie to come back. I'll divorce you right now."

As soon as I said it, it felt like knives were slicing through my heart.

Seven years in this relationship, five and a half years of pure happiness, but in those last six months, Alex made my life such hell I was barely hanging on.

All those times I blamed myself, and the real reason behind it all was ridiculous.

After finally seeing me for who I am, Alex rushed over, grabbed my hand, his expression was frantic and desperate.

He stammered, "Karina, I'm sorry. I messed up.

"I'm begging you, please give me one more chance. I let my past cloud my judgment."

Before I could even respond, one of his friends cut in with a snarky tone, "Alex, you gave up on her yourself. From now on, you don't have any right to chase after Sophie anymore."

They stormed off, but their words lingered in Alex's mind for a long time.

Once we got in the car, he closed his eyes, pressing his temples repeatedly with his slender thumb and forefinger, lost in thought.

It wasn't until we pulled up to our house that he finally spoke. "Karina, from now on, I'll make it up to you and our child."

I looked at his face, still exactly the same as it was seven years ago, and sighed. In the end, my heart softened.

"Alex, honestly, I must be crazy to have put up with everything you've done and still want to give you another chance," I said, my voice broke, thick with hurt.

Before I could say anything else, he suddenly pulled me into his arms, holding me tight.

When we got home, Alex finally joined me in playing with our baby again, something he hadn't done in ages.

Even the nanny looked genuinely happy and whispered to me, "Mr. Foster is finally acting like a real father."

But for some reason, my heart still wouldn't settle, until Alex went to take a shower, and his phone accidentally cast to the bedroom screen.

I saw a message pop up from the friend he fought with today. [Alex, I did pretty good today, right? This way, when Sophie comes back and you two meet up, Karina won't suspect anything.]

His friend kept texting: [Wait until the kid gets a bit older and gets close to Sophie, then you can finally divorce Karina.]

Alex replied almost instantly: [Yeah, guess I'll have to let Sophie go without a proper title for now.]

In that instant, the shaky foundation I'd barely managed to hold together in my heart completely collapsed.

So in his mind, Sophie Allen, who had no proper title, was somehow the one he felt sorry for.

Meanwhile, I'd spent seven years in the dark, treated like a baby-making machine and left with dozens of scars, but apparently, that didn't even count as being wronged.

This time, I didn't barge into the bathroom to scream at Alex, torn up inside.

Instead, I picked up the phone and called my dad, the one I'd cut off years ago when I was mad. "Dad, I want to come home."