Chapter 2

Amelia's POV

Mr. Henderson noted down my requests over the phone.

After hanging up, the Vance family car arrived.

I opened the car door and got in, telling the driver, "To the embassy."

"Yes, ma'am." The driver paused, but was wise enough not to ask questions, turning the car around immediately.

During my two days in the hospital, I had already scheduled my visa application appointment.

All the documents were prepared, and the process was surprisingly smooth.

I expected to receive it in about two weeks.

Back in the car, I instructed the driver, "Don't tell Julian about today."

The driver's hands paused on the steering wheel, then he said softly, "Mr. Vance... he doesn't like us mentioning you in front of him."

So, his aversion to me was so deep that he didn't even want to hear my name.

I simply hummed in acknowledgment.

That was fine.

It would make leaving even easier, with no strings attached.

The car stopped in front of an imposing villa.

This was where I had lived for three years.

A huge wedding photo hung in the foyer.

In the picture, my eyes were filled with love as I looked up at the man beside me.

Julian, however, wore a cold expression, like an unapproachable iceberg.

The stark contrast made me, the "mistress of the house," feel incredibly superfluous.

Back in the bedroom, I found an old phone tucked deep in a drawer.

It contained only one encrypted memo app.

It chronicled the past three years, detailing how I had been repeatedly neglected, ignored, and hurt by him.

"March 7th. I brought him lunch; he said he wasn't hungry. But then he took Chloe to a fancy French restaurant."

"May 20th. He claimed he was in an all-night meeting. Yet, Chloe's Ins story showed him setting off fireworks for her."

"August 15th. Chloe had a fever. He abandoned me in the ER, sick, to stay by her side all night. I overheard him telling his assistant, 'Forget her. She won't die.'"

"December 1st. I hurt myself again. Julian, what do I have to do for you to finally look at me?"

...

Line after line of text, like a dull knife, cut into my heart.

I looked down at my wrist.

The scars, long healed, now felt as if they were being torn open again, throbbing faintly.

I suddenly felt a profound sorrow for my past self.

How could anyone love someone so much they completely lost themselves?

Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

Soon, I raised my hand and wiped them away fiercely.

I put the old phone back in the deepest part of the drawer and closed it.

As if sealing away that unbearable past.

In the mirror, my face was pale but unusually calm.

I looked at myself in the mirror and whispered.

"It's okay if no one loves you."

"From now on, you have to love yourself."

For the next two weeks, Julian didn't come home once.

No calls, no messages.

It was as if I had never existed in that house.

Until a phone call broke the brief silence.

Chapter