Chapter 3

I found out about Ian and Lena's affair last week.

Since Ian had been having stomach pains lately, I bought some herbs and made some herbal soup to help him feel better.

After packing it in a thermos, I drove to Ian's office, planning to pick up Cindy after this and head home.

As soon as I walked in, the receptionist who recognized me asked if Ian had forgotten something.

I paused, then shook my head.

"No, I just brought him some soup for his stomach. Did she already leave?" I asked.

The receptionist looked even more confused.

"Ian just left. I thought you picked him up—he mentioned something about going to a class reunion," she said.

What class reunion?

Monica never told me about that.

I frowned, grabbed my things, and headed back to the car. I called the nanny to pick up Cindy.

My heart was pounding the whole way.

I checked with Monica—she hadn't organized a college reunion.

So maybe it was a reunion from Ian's middle or elementary school days.

Why did he have to lie about going to a business dinner? If he hadn't lied, I wouldn't have bothered making that soup early just to help him with his drinking tonight.

My confusion only deepened, so I just decided to track Ian's car.

His car was in the shop last week, so he'd been driving mine these past couple of days.

When I saw his car parked at a private club, I rushed over without a second thought.

My gut feeling was spot on—I just knew Ian was hiding something from me.

But as soon as I got to the third floor, I caught Ian and Lena kissing.

My ears were buzzing, and with every breath, my heart throbbed painfully.

I thought Ian's absent-mindedness was work stress, but he acted that way because his first lover returned.

I recognized the woman who was practically glued to my husband, kissing him nonstop.

Lena Young—Ian's high school classmate, and his first love.

I'd seen her before, on the day we got married.

I heard she rushed back from overseas just to celebrate Ian's wedding.

Back then, Ian introduced Lena to me without a hint of awkwardness—so I didn't think twice about their relationship.

After the wedding, Lena headed right back abroad.

All these years, I barely ever heard Ian mention her name. I thought their high school thing was just puppy love, and he'd moved on ages ago.

But who would've guessed, after ten years, they still couldn't let go of each other.

It took a while before Ian and Lena finally let go of each other, both of them out of breath.

"Lena, how long are you staying this time? Cindy has never met you before—you're her biological mother," Ian said.

His voice was a little hoarse, probably from drinking.

Every time he drank, his voice would get hoarse, and his stomach would act up.

That's why I always made sure to have some herbal soup ready for him ahead of time, to help with his hangover and stomach.

But now, standing there with that thermos in my hand, I felt like a complete fool.

Any courage I had to confront Ian evaporated instantly.

Cindy... she was not even my daughter.

My hands and feet trembled, my palms slick with salty sweat, and I felt like I'd just been punched in the gut—my mind went blank.

Right then, Ian started talking again, and even through the wall, I could hear every single word he said.

Ian said, "Lena, I was only with Sharon for the money. Are you still mad at me for not waiting for you, for choosing her instead?

"I had no choice. When you left, my parents forced me to marry the widow by the bridge. They wouldn't quit. I was twenty and couldn't ruin my life."

Maybe bringing up the past made Ian's voice sound shattered.

"Do you even know how much I've missed you all these years?" he said.

"Stop it, Ian. I don't blame you. I just hate myself for not coming back sooner. If I had, you wouldn't have had to suffer all these years," Lena spoke.

Suffer?

Ian's current job was something I'd pulled strings to get for him—a cushy desk job, nothing hard at all.

Cindy was mostly looked after by the nanny, and all he did was a bit of easy work, then go out partying with his friends.

Had he really had it rough these past eight years

I lowered my head, my eyes stinging with tears and bitterness.

Ian had hidden this so well. Cindy was already five, and he never once told me the truth about who she really was.

I watched them pour their hearts out, my face blank, hand gripping the thermos so tight my knuckles whitened, lips tasting only bitterness.

Ian, you really were something.