Chapter 1

Brent Perez and I went all the way from school uniforms to a wedding dress.

In a car accident, I lost my sight saving Brent.

That night, Brent stayed by my bedside and said he would be my eyes, and would never leave me for the rest of his life.

Over those five years, my health kept getting worse, and he cared for me down to the smallest detail.

Then one day, I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer. When I came home from the hospital, I overheard a conversation between Brent and one of his buddies.

"Aren't you afraid Tabitha will find out, playing around this openly?"

"She's blind. Even if I did it right in front of her, she couldn't see. After all these years, I got bored of her a long time ago. Do I really have to spend my whole life stuck with a blind woman?"

...

Later, the doctor issued me a critical-condition notice.

All I could do was call Brent.

"Brent, we were husband and wife once. Do me one last favor. Please bury me beside my grandmother's grave."

1

When I got back from the hospital, I turned down the driver's offer to see me home.

I'd been blind for five whole years now. I'd long since grown used to the darkness, and I could manage on my own.

What's more, I knew every inch of this house better than anyone.

As the sound of the car's exhaust faded into the distance, I felt for the door handle and opened it, only to catch a sweet, cloying whiff of perfume drifting through the house.

After I lost my sight, my sense of smell and hearing grew sharper and sharper.

I never wear perfume with this scent, and neither does Brent.

So who could it be?

Once I stepped inside, I heard movement in the living room, and my heart went cold.

Soft, ragged little gasps.

And that voice I knew all too well.

"You're really something!"

"Easy—you've torn my clothes to shreds. What am I supposed to wear later?"

"Then don't wear anything..."

The filthy words carried clearly to my ears, and all I felt was a stab of pain in my chest.

So Brent's earlier words about not wanting to be stuck with a blind woman hadn't been something I imagined after all.

He figured that because I was blind, he could do whatever he pleased!

But my eyes—I went blind saving him in the first place. He never used to be like this...

We'd been married five years, and he doted on me completely. All of Harbor City knew how tenderly he cared for me.

He said we'd go from school uniforms to a wedding dress together, from black hair to gray.

He would be my eyes.

Maybe he'd said it so earnestly back then that I never once doubted him.

But now?

I couldn't quite keep my footing. I accidentally knocked into the vase set by the entryway, and it shattered at my feet.

After a bit of rustling, I suddenly fell into a familiar embrace.

"Tabby, when did you get back?"

There was a trace of panic in Brent's voice, and then it smoothed over, full of concern.

"Are you hurt?"

As he spoke, he checked me over carefully for any cuts.

I started to move, but Brent scooped me up and set me gently on the sofa.

"I'm not keeping a vase by the door anymore. It's too dangerous."

As he talked, Brent expertly dabbed medicine on the spot I'd just scraped.

His touch was so gentle that for a moment I felt dazed, as if everything that had just happened had only been in my head.

"Tabby?"

Coming back to myself, I did my best to steady myself. "I'm fine. Didn't you say you had to work late today?"

"It's all wrapped up. Julius said he liked that red wine I brought back from France last time, so I had him over for a few glasses. I'm sorry, I should have come to pick you up."

Brent didn't flush, didn't skip a beat, his tone perfectly natural.

"It's fine."

Because I was blind, I couldn't see the look on Brent's face just then.

Was his conscience truly clear, or was there a sneer on his lips?

Before I could think it over, a familiar scent drew slowly closer.

Brent pressed a kiss between my brows, and feeling the warmth of it, I instinctively pushed him away.

He froze for a second, then spoke apologetically. "I'm sorry, I forgot you don't like the smell of alcohol. I won't drink anymore. Forgive me this once, all right?"

Maybe his acting was just that good, because I almost believed him.

I was about to say something when my hand happened to brush against clothing on the sofa.

These clearly weren't a man's clothes, and they carried the same perfume I'd smelled coming in.

My hand went still, and I forced the words out. "Did you bring a woman home?"