Chapter 3

There were three people in the group chat.

James, Sophia, and Mrs. Carter.

I started scrolling from the very first message.

The earliest one was from two and a half years ago.

James: [Mom, Sophia's pregnant.]

Mrs. Carter: [Really? That's wonderful news!]

Sophia: [Mom, I'll take good care of myself.]

Mrs. Carter: [Good, good. Don't worry about a thing. If you need anything, just let me know.]

Sophia called her "Mom."

Mrs. Carter told her to "take good care of herself."

I kept scrolling.

James: "Emily doesn't know a thing, so make sure you don't say anything."

Mrs. Carter: "Of course, I'm not dumb."

A month later.

Mrs. Carter: [Emily's coming over for dinner this weekend. James, don't go to Sophia's place that day.]

James: [Got it.]

Mrs. Carter: [Make sure you keep Sophie happy. Last time, Emily smelled perfume on your clothes and grilled you about it. Be more careful next time.]

I kept scrolling.

Last January.

Sophia: [Mom, the checkup went smoothly today. Everything's normal.]

Mrs. Carter: [That's wonderful. This time, we'll make sure you carry the baby to term.]

Last March.

The month I miscarried.

Mrs. Carter sent a message in the group chat.

Mrs. Carter: [Emily had a miscarriage. Lay low for a few days and don't go over to her place.]

James: [Got it.]

Three days later.

James: [Sophia's not feeling great. I'll go check on her.]

Mrs. Carter: [Go ahead, but don't take too long. Emily's on the fifth floor, I'm on the third keeping watch.]

I was on the fifth floor.

She was down on the third floor, keeping an eye on Sophia.

That day, Mrs. Carter came to visit me at the hospital.

She stayed for an hour.

She stepped out for a bit.

She said she was "going to the nurse's station to ask about tomorrow's checkup."

She was gone for twenty minutes.

But she never went to the nurse's station.

She went to the third floor.

She was there to help Sophia with her prenatal test results.

And I was lying in that hospital bed, thinking she'd come because she cared about me.

I kept scrolling through the chat history.

Last September.

Mrs. Carter sent a long voice message.

I tapped it, turning the volume down to the minimum.

Mrs. Carter said, "James, how much have you paid off on your mortgage with Emily?"

James replied with a text: [We've been paying for two years. Eighteen more to go.]

Mrs. Carter: [Just keep making the payments. Once you've almost paid it off, then you can talk to her about the divorce. There's no rush.]

James: [Talk to her about what?]

Mrs. Carter: [Divorce, of course. Emily's just a placeholder. You and Sophia are the real thing.]

'Just a placeholder.'

That word hit me.

I stared at the screen, frozen, for ten seconds.

'Emily's just a placeholder.'

I was just a placeholder.

The 150,000 dollars I put down for the house. The mortgage I paid every month. The overtime I worked to save for those tickets. The baby I lost.

All of it—just a placeholder.

I kept scrolling.

Then I came across a message from James.

It was from last May.

James: [Mom, sometimes I really feel bad for Emily. She's actually a good person. I think I should talk to Sophia and be honest—things can't go on like this.]

My hand froze.

He actually thought about breaking things off.

He said, "She's actually a good person."

Mrs. Carter replied:

"Are you out of your mind? What can Emily even offer you? Even if you add up her whole monthly paycheck, it's still less than yours. Sophia's family has connections—they can open doors for you. You need to be smart about this."

James didn't reply.

The next message was from the following day.

Sophia sent it.

Sophia: "Honey, Mom talked to me. Don't worry, I won't leave you."

He never ended it.

He thought about it.

But his mom only had to say a few words, and he was pulled right back.

His so-called kindness was just saying, "She's actually a good person,"—that was James.

But that was never enough for him to actually do anything about it.

I scrolled to the very end.

It was from yesterday.

James sent a message.

James: [The flight's tomorrow. Don't tell Emily. I told her we're going together. I'll just make up some excuse so she doesn't come.]

Mrs. Carter: [Alright, handle it. Just make sure she doesn't get suspicious.]

Sophia sent a smiley face.

Then she sent a voice message.

I tapped it.

It was Sophia's voice.

Clear and cheerful, with a smile in her voice.

Sophia said, "Honey, the place I want to visit most in Paris is Montmartre. Can you check out some nice hotels nearby for me?"

Then she sent another text.

Sophia: [By the way, did Emily buy first-class tickets?]

James: [Yeah. Two first-class tickets. 13,000 dollars each.]

Sophia: [Haha, the ATM really comes in handy.]

James sent a facepalm emoji.

He didn't object.

He didn't set her straight.

'ATM.'

He never told her to stop.

He smiled.

I put the iPad on the table.

I started from the very first message and went all the way to the last.

I took screenshots of every message.

More than three hundred screenshots.

Emailed them to myself.

Then I logged out of APP.

I cleared the notifications.

Returned the iPad to the study.

I stood in the middle of the living room.

Night had already fallen.

On my phone, more than three hundred screenshots and the 280,000 dollars spreadsheet rested quietly in my inbox.

And the ticket cancellation confirmation.

And the airline ticket change record.

And the hospital payment history.

He was leaving for the airport tomorrow.

I picked up my phone.

My thumb hovered over a name.

Olivia—my college friend, now a lawyer.

I dialed her number.

"Olivia, I want a divorce," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Come to my office. Bring every piece of evidence you have," Olivia replied.

"Okay."

I hung up.

The doorbell rang.

James walked in.

He kicked off his shoes and came into the living room.

"Why's it so dark in here?" he asked.

I turned on the light.

He looked at me and smiled.

"Have you packed yet for our flight the day after tomorrow?" he asked.

The flight's the day after tomorrow.

He said it so casually.

Like my name was still on those tickets.

"Not yet," I said. "I'll pack it tomorrow."

"Alright, just don't forget your passport," he said.

He walked over and put his arm around my shoulders.

"Are you looking forward to it?" he asked.

I looked at him.

There was a genuine smile in his eyes.

It was real.

He didn't look like he was just pretending.

Maybe, for a moment, he really thought bringing me along wouldn't be so bad.

But that moment meant nothing.

Because in the end, he still chose Sophia.

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it," I said.

He smiled.

"Then get some rest," he said.

He headed to the bathroom.

The water started running.

I sat on the couch.

I looked at our wedding photo hanging on the living room wall.

Then I picked up my phone.

I looked up the number for Greenfield Residences' property management.

I needed to confirm one thing.