Chapter 1
On the back of the closet in the spare bedroom of our newlywed home, a yellowed sticky note was stuck to the wall.
There was only one line written on it.
"Jessica, when you come back, I'll draw this south-facing room for you."
My eyes lingered on those words, and a chill slowly crept down my spine.
The next moment, I reached out and pushed aside the movable panel at the back of the closet. Suddenly, an entire wall of gift boxes filled my vision, sitting there in silent rows.
The gift boxes were lined up neatly by year.
2015.
2016.
2017.
Right up to 2024.
Every box had the same name on it.
Jessica Schnabel.
We'd been married for three years now.
Today was our wedding anniversary.
The sound of the door opening echoed from the living room, and Ethan walked in carrying a cake, his voice carrying a smile.
"Sophia, I got your favorite hazelnut cake from that place you love. Let's skip cooking tonight and eat out."
But as he finished speaking, his steps came to a sudden halt.
I was crouched on the floor of the spare bedroom, clutching the sticky note in my hand, with a whole wall of gift boxes behind me—ten years' worth of secrets he hadn't managed to hide.
The air felt tight, like someone had their hand around my throat.
Ethan's smile faded bit by bit, and he nearly lost his grip on the cake box.
I didn't cry, and I didn't yell.
I just held up the sticky note and asked, "Explain this to me."
He stood in the doorway, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"How did you get into this room?" he asked.
I couldn't help but laugh.
"So you care more about me opening the room than the fact you've been hiding this for ten years?" I retorted.
Ethan set the cake down in the entryway and walked over, reaching for the sticky note in my hand.
I took a step back.
His hand stalled in mid-air, his voice turning heavy.
"Sophia, these are all things from the past," he said.
"The past?" I retorted.
I grabbed the nearest box and lifted the lid. Inside was an unopened silk scarf, still with its tag, and tucked underneath was the receipt, the date clear as day.
December 23rd, 2024.
I pulled out the receipt and quietly read it under my breath.
"So, 'the past' means last year?" I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Ethan's face went pale.
The spare bedroom was dark, but the afternoon sunlight slanted in through the window, lighting up the whole row of gift boxes, making them almost painfully bright.
I'd always thought this room was just a place where he stored his files and documents.
Back when we were house hunting before the wedding, he told me not to touch the spare bedroom—said it was packed with work files and old junk, too messy, and we'd get around to sorting it out together someday.
Three years married, and I still didn't have a key to that room.
It's not like I never asked him about it.
He always said there were client files inside, so it wasn't a good idea for me to mess around in there.
He'd tease me, saying I was so good at tidying up, he'd end up losing his blueprints and probably cry about it.
He always said it so softly and naturally, I never doubted him for a second.
I always thought couples should have their own boundaries.
But I never expected that the boundaries I believed in would turn out to be an entire wall of gifts for another woman.
"Say something," I said, my voice cold.
I stared at him. "Aren't you the master of excuses?"
Ethan raised his hand to his brow, looking troubled.
"Jessica was my college ex. You know that," he said.
"I know you have an ex you can't get over," I shot back, locking eyes with him. "But I never imagined you'd dedicate an entire room in our wedding home to her."
"It's not as bad as you're making it out to be," he replied.
"Then tell me, what's a less ugly way to say it?" I pressed.
He was silent for a couple of seconds before finally speaking in a low voice.
"It's been over for a long time. These things aren't what you think. I never got rid of them because I was too busy, and later I just didn't bother dealing with them," Ethan said.
I stared at the wall of gifts, all lined up by year like some twisted exhibition, and I was so angry I almost laughed.
"You were so busy you could buy her a new gift every year, so busy you could label each box and arrange them perfectly, so busy you could set up a hidden cabinet in the spare bedroom of our wedding home—but somehow, you just never had time to throw them out?" I shot back, my voice thick with sarcasm.
With every word I spoke, Ethan's expression turned uglier.
"Sophia, calm down," he said quietly.
"I'm very calm right now," I said, my voice icy.
I stood up, bracing myself against the wooden panel, my feet a little numb.
"Ethan, just answer me this. After we got married, you still bought her gifts for three years. What does that mean?"
He just pressed his lips together and didn't answer.
I pointed at the latest boxes.