Chapter 3

Sophie talked more than she used to.

Her little gestures had also become more frequent.

While recounting her and Ethan's romantic getaway to Turkey last month, she pulled out a lip balm at the traffic light and gently dabbed Ethan's lips.

"Your lips always get so dry in this weather, sweetheart. Good thing I always remember to bring lip balm."

Her voice was soft, but her eyes kept drifting—intentionally or not—toward the back seat.

Ethan caught her hand mid-movement, clearly irritated. "Cut it out."

"Oh! Silly me... I forgot Abby's still here." She turned halfway in her seat, smiling sweetly. "Abby, you don't mind, do you? This is just how Ethan and I are together..."

I interrupted her, incredibly magnanimous.

"Of course not. I've already seen the two of you tangled up naked in bed. Why would this little scene bother me?"

The car fell into dead silence.

Finally—peace.

I turned to watch the landscape blur past the window, thinking how much the city had changed. If my mother were still alive, I imagined she'd be amazed by it too.

Back then, my father had insisted on divorcing her for Linda. The betrayal nearly drove her insane.

And me... choosing to marry Ethan behind her back? That decision took her life.

At first, I only hated my father and Linda.

They were the ones who betrayed her, who turned my mother from a strong, invincible woman into someone hysterical at the slightest slight. Time left its cruel mark on her. It drained her spirit, little by little.

But later...

I began to hate myself.

After I arranged her funeral in a fog of grief, I was supposed to go on my honeymoon with Ethan. Instead, I went alone—to a small seaside town in the South. I stayed for nearly a month.

During that whole time, not once did I hate Ethan.

To me, he was like a pearl covered in grime—a boy dealt a bad hand, powerless in his own story.

Before I left, I asked Sophie to look after him.

And she "looked after" him quite well. In the apartment we once called our new home, she moved about the kitchen with fluent ease. Her dinners—lavish, beautifully plated—always smelled delicious.

I'd genuinely thanked her.

That year, the three of us were closer than ever before.

Ethan treated me better, too.

When the company made its first big profit, he spent it all on the sapphire jewelry I'd admired for so long.

On my birthday, he lit animated fireworks across the largest skyscraper in the city—just for me.

Every month, during my cycle, he'd cancel all meetings that required travel, working from home just so he could stay by my side.

I never doubted him.

I believed he loved me—deeply.

Until that one time.

I returned unexpectedly to his office. His assistant wasn't at the front desk.

Behind that half-closed door to the lounge, I heard a series of muffled, breathy sighs. Intimate. Rhythmic.

I pushed the door open.

Two naked bodies.

Like a blade driven straight into my eyes.

I screamed, unable to control it.

Ethan moved quickly—instinctively—shielding the woman beneath him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he shouted. "Get out!"

Like someone gone mad, I grabbed anything I could find and flung it at them. One vase smashed against his temple, drawing blood—but still, he held her tightly in his arms, protecting her.

I tore that room apart.

But I didn't dare get too close.

They had once been the two people I loved most in this world.

Terror seeped into my bones. My teeth chattered as I fought to keep myself from falling apart.

"Sophie," I said, my voice low, trembling. "Look at me."

Her face was streaked with tears. Clutching the bed sheet around her, she dropped to her knees before me.

"Abby... I'm so sorry. We never meant for this to happen. But we fell in love—we couldn't stop it. I'm begging you... please, let us be together."

The way she knelt there, pitiful and small, was just like how I'd first met her all those years ago—cornered by a group of street girls near the alley. Back then, I'd stood up for her, earning the bullies' resentment. I couldn't walk home alone for weeks.

Later, it was me who handed her my bridal bouquet.

I'd wished her happiness—from the bottom of my heart.

And now she lay in my husband's arms, begging me to give her that very wish.

Tears spilled over. My voice came out as barely a whisper.

"When did it start?"

She opened her mouth but couldn't speak. Her lips trembled.

Someone else gave the answer.

"Does it even matter?" Ethan snapped. "You've made your scene. What more do you want? This is my office, not your house."

"It doesn't matter?!" I screamed. "Ethan—it doesn't matter?!"

He stood there—completely naked—but his face was calm. Too calm.

"Fine. I'll tell you."

"It started last March. You ran off to the South and left me alone. That's when we got together."

"I wasn't trying to hide it from you—I just didn't want to hurt you any more. You'd just lost your mother. I figured letting you have some control, keeping the marriage going... it was easier."

"Sophie's been through enough. I can't keep watching her suffer for my sake. My plan was to wait until after your mother's anniversary this year, then tell you I wanted a divorce."

"Well—you've found out. So let's just say it now."

"Let's get divorced. Take whatever you want—I only want Sophie."

That's when I finally understood...

Just how heavy that shove had been—all those years ago, when I pushed my mother aside to stand behind Ethan.