Chapter 1
During an interview, the host asked Edith Martinez, the primetime news icon at Starview Media, a question.
She had been married to the tech mogul, Daryl Martinez, for seven years. Had there ever been any rift between them due to the appearance of another woman?
Edith cast an arrogant glance at the camera.
She said, "Of course. After all, my husband is so exceptional. There will always be shameless women who delude themselves into trying to steal him from me.
"But as you know, I am sharp in my journalism and equally sharp with women who try to take my husband.
"So the moment I found out she was messing around with my husband, I got rid of her right away. I even made her lose her studies and her job, turning her into a pariah that everyone despised.
"I've even been keeping tabs on her for these seven years. Just recently, I got word from my private investigator. She's having a miserable time, driven to attempt suicide several times by her depression."
The comment section was flooded with praise for Edith as a female powerhouse.
They hailed her as a role model for legal wives standing up to homewreckers.
At that very moment, I lay in the bathtub, blood dripping from my wrist. I had originally planned to kill myself, but a sneer curled at the corner of my mouth.
Because I was that girl, the one Edith drove to the brink of suicide by depression.
And what's more, Edith was the shameless homewrecker who had stolen my boyfriend from me years ago.
*****
By the time I quietly wrapped my bleeding wrist in gauze and walked out of the bathroom, the interview video had vanished.
Even all the clips online were gone.
The only things left were the photos of Daryl and Edith looking affectionate at their seventh anniversary celebration.
My heart remained calm, as usual.
It was a side effect of taking a large amount of antidepressants and sleeping pills.
That night, I started sorting through my stuff again.
In the messy rental apartment I found the only remaining photo of Daryl and me.
We were in our school uniforms, beaming at each other, eyes locked, standing at the entrance to our high school.
A twinge of bitterness tugged at my heart.
But it lasted only a moment before the medication dulled the pain in my heart.
After all, compared to the past five years, where I had been like a trapped beast raging hysterically in pain and even hurting myself in despair every single day.
Keeping myself emotionally dead inside was the only way I could survive.
So now I calmly pulled Daryl's contact out of my WhatsApp block list.
I didn't message him right away. I sent him that old photo of us together with a calm demeanor.
Then, with a hint of grievance in my words, I typed: [I-I found this photo while I was going through my things.]
Daryl didn't text back immediately.
But I settled onto the couch, taking my time, not worried at all.
I knew he'd text me back eventually.
Just like Edith always knew exactly how to handle Daryl.
I could've done the same.
I just didn't want to before.
Because seven years ago, I truly loved Daryl.
Daryl and I were childhood sweethearts, growing up together.
When we were kids, Daryl's dad was an actor, always away on set.
And his mom was a total powerhouse, jetting around the world nonstop.
So Daryl was often left in the care of Erica Shaw.
He started coming to my house because Erica abused him.
Erica, the maid his mom hired, had racked up a ton of gambling debts, and whenever she was in a bad mood, she'd beat Daryl.
She'd even threaten Daryl, telling him to beg his mom for money so she could pay off her debts and live it up.