Too High for My Ex

Synopsis

In the third year of my marriage to Andrew Cole, his first love came back. I heard the news from his secretary. I was in the kitchen at the time, trying to make his favorite dish. Braised lion's head meatballs. My phone vibrated. I wiped my hands and unlocked the screen. Parma's message popped up: [Madam, Miss Shein's flight arrives at Govaron at 3 p.m. today. Mr. Cole is personally going to pick her up.] There was a photo attached. It was a blurry airport surveillance screenshot. But I could still make out Andrew's tall figure standing at the arrivals gate, holding a woman tightly in his arms, as if he wanted to press her into his very bones. The woman wore a white dress, her long hair falling to her waist. Her profile was cool and delicate, like a gardenia flower still touched with morning dew. Tamara Shein. The woman my husband had kept in his heart, hidden away for seven years. The spoon slipped into the pot. Scalding broth splashed onto the back of my hand, instantly turning it red. I didn't feel the pain. I just stared at the photo for a long time, until the screen went dark and reflected my own pale face. We didn't look alike. Not at all. Andrew probably married me only because I had a tear-shaped mole beneath my left eye like her. The placement was similar, but the shape was different. Hers was small and round; mine was slightly elongated, like a teardrop about to fall. I raised my hand and touched that mole. Every time he kissed me, he would close his eyes, his lips always landing precisely there. Gentle, almost reverent, as if performing some kind of ritual. Turned out, he wasn't kissing me. He was kissing his first love.