Chapter 1

In the live stream chat, fans were spamming the screen, begging him to talk about "the one that got away."

He leaned back in his gaming chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Yeah, there was someone. Back then, I just wasn't good enough for her."

The chat immediately went wild, everyone screaming about "heartbreak" and "tragic love." He just smiled, his eyes drifting. No denial, no explanation.

I stood just outside the camera's view, handing him a bottle of water.

A comment flashed across the screen: If she came back to you today, would you take her?

He read the question out loud, paused for a second, shot a quick glance in my direction, and chuckled. "Some questions are better left unanswered."

Another wave of expensive virtual gifts flooded his screen.

I looked down at my wrist. Today was my birthday. The bracelet he gave me was a five-dollar bargain from Wish, and the plastic packaging wasn't even fully torn off.

We had been married for three years. I paid the mortgage. I was the one who stayed up all night with him to build his live-streaming career.

But in his heart, I didn't even deserve a mention.

The stream didn't wrap up until two in the morning.

He shut down the equipment, stretched in his gaming chair, and glanced over at me. "Why are you still up?"

I jingled the cheap chain on my wrist. "It's my birthday."

"Oh, right." He slapped his forehead, acting like he just remembered. "Happy birthday. Do you like it? I picked it out myself."

"The five-dollar bargain from Wish?"

The smile wiped clean off his face, replaced by an annoyed scowl.

"Here you go again. I'm just starting out, Chloe. Once I make the big bucks, I'll buy you whatever you want."

I had heard that promise for three years.

It was always "in the future." Once we had money, once things stabilized, once he had time.

But that future never seemed to arrive.

Three years ago, he quit his job to become a full-time streamer, claiming he wanted to prove himself.

I believed him. I took on the mortgage and all our living expenses by myself. I worked two jobs during the day and helped him polish his stream scripts at night.

He went from making fifty bucks a month to over five thousand. I thought I could finally breathe.

Then, I accidentally saw his Instagram. The only account he followed was a girl’s profile. Her picture was the silhouette of a woman in a white dress, standing by the ocean.

I tapped in. I scrolled up their chat history. It was filled with messages from him:

"I thought of you during my stream today."

"I sang that song you used to love."

"Serena, how have you been lately?"

"The moon tonight looks just like you."

Serena.

Serena Shen.

He saved her contact name as "My Moon." Mine was just "Chloe."

First name. No emojis. Not even a heart.

Scrolling further down, I saw the money transfers he sent her. On her birthday last year, he sent her $5,200. The note read: A little gift for you.

Five thousand two hundred dollars.

And he gave his wife a five-dollar piece of junk.

I kept scrolling, my fingers turning cold.

On my birthday last year, he had texted me: Super busy today. Just grab a cupcake or something for yourself.

At that exact same hour, he had texted Serena:

Serena, I walked past a boutique today and saw a necklace that would look gorgeous on you. I'll bring it to you next time we meet.

His gift to someone else was "I'll bring it next time we meet." His gift to his wife was "go buy yourself a cupcake."

I didn’t throw a fit right then. It wasn't because I didn't want to, but because I was too exhausted. So exhausted I didn’t even have the energy to scream.

"Ethan."

When I used his actual name, his eyelid twitched. That was his tell. He did that whenever he felt guilty or nervous.

"In your stream tonight, who were you talking about? The girl that got away?"

He was scrolling through his phone and didn't even look up. "Just some random talk. It’s for the online persona. You wouldn’t understand."

"I wouldn’t understand?" I repeated.

"Does your 'persona' require you to save your top female donor as 'Babe'? Does your 'persona' require you to keep a folder full of another woman's photos?

Does your 'persona' require you to text 'Midnight Muse' in the middle of the night saying the moon looks just like her?"

His thumb froze on his screen.

"You went through my phone?"

"You use my birthday as your passcode. It’s hard not to see it."

He slammed his phone onto the desk, stood up, and kicked his chair back. It hit the wall with a loud crash.

"Chloe! What gives you the right to go through my phone?!"