Chapter 4

Henry, usually calm and composed, was rattled.

His eyes were swirling with panic and heartbreak, all his usual composure gone.

He shoved me aside and said, his voice urgent, "Emily, this is a matter of life and death. I have to go. I'll explain everything when I get back."

I grabbed his sleeve, half demanding, half pleading, and said, "I won't let you go," my voice trembling.

I repeated, "I won't let you go," my voice trembling, but with each time, my hold on his sleeve grew weaker.

I stared at my empty palm, listening to the sound of him rushing out the door.

I knew our marriage was starting to fall apart.

Henry was gone for three whole days.

Three days later, he came back, stood before me, and said in a calm voice, "I'm going abroad for a while. I might be gone for quite some time."

I sat on the couch, quietly looking up at him, and asked, my voice barely above a whisper and tinged with doubt, "Are you alone?"

He paused for a moment before answering, "No, I was with Vivian. Her leg was broken, so I took her abroad for treatment."

I felt like I'd heard the funniest joke in the world. "Weren't you two sworn enemies?

"Henry, you really are your parents' golden boy, taking such good care of your enemy's daughter. Aren't you afraid they'll turn in their graves?"

Henry's eyes turned icy as he barked my name. "Emily. Richard killed my parents, not Vivian. She's innocent too."

His defense of Vivian was the final straw, I lost it.

He'd come home twice and still never noticed my mother's memorial photo on the desk.

I shot to my feet, flipped the coffee table over, grabbed a glass cup, and hurled it at him, all while cursing and crying.

"Henry, she deserved to get hit. That's karma. Don't even deny it. You've caught feelings for your enemy's daughter. You're pathetic. And if you walk out that door today, your parents will never forgive you, and neither will I," I said.

Henry dodged the cup I threw at him.

He didn't say a word and looked at me with cold, distant eyes.

When I finally stopped yelling and crying, drained and disheveled on the floor amid the mess, he spoke coldly, "Emily, look at yourself. You've let me down."

With that, he turned on his heel and left without hesitation.

After that fight, Henry left without looking back, taking Vivian with him overseas.

We had no contact for an entire year after that.

*****

The call made the air in the car even more awkward.

But I couldn't care less about him and Vivian anymore.

I turned to the window, closed my eyes, and pretended to sleep.

During the first six months after Henry left with Vivian, I received a photo from an unknown overseas number every three days.

Some showed him patiently helping her recover, others captured them sipping coffee while watching snow fall, and one on Valentine's Day showed them in matching outfits watching the sunset by the Aegean Sea.

Every photo was crystal clear.

Clear enough for me to see every smile on Henry's face.

The car stopped. I opened my eyes and was about to get out when Henry's deep voice broke the silence. "Emily, Vivian's leg is fully healed. I won't be seeing her anymore."

I nodded and said flatly, "Oh, congrats to her. And congrats to you too, all that effort this year wasn't wasted."

Henry stared at me with heavy eyes and a hint of hesitation, saying, "Emily, I've been gone for a year. Isn't there anything you want to ask me? I can finally explain everything now.

"Everything between Vivian and me was a misunderstanding from start to finish..."