Chapter 4

I opened the chat list and scrolled down.

There was nothing suspicious—just work groups and a few friends, with chat histories from a few days ago.

Still unwilling to give up, I checked the photo album and browser history too, but there was nothing.

Maybe I was wrong?

Maybe she really just thought it was a waste of money?

But that look, that avoidance, that shove.

I opened her shopping app again.

Three orders, all marked awaiting delivery.

The delivery address wasn’t ours.

I remembered the address after one glance. It was a certain building, in a certain unit, in a certain apartment in some residential complex.

Not our complex. Not a place I knew.

I opened the order details.

The first one was from a week ago.

A men’s leather belt, $230.

Not the brand I used.

The second one was from five days ago.

A set of men’s skincare products, $180.

Still not the brand I used.

The third one was from three days ago.

A bottle of men’s cologne, over $90.

Not the one I liked.

I set the tablet down, my fingers shaking hard.

I opened her order history and scrolled farther back.

Two months ago, a computer.

One month ago, a watch.

Half a month ago, a cake delivered to that address.

The recipient had a name, three characters, with the last name Lin.

I looked at that name many times to make sure I didn’t know it.

Then I checked her payment records, her delivery records, and her travel records.

The more I looked, the more my hands shook.

A restaurant order, a meal for two, last Thursday.

That day she said she was working overtime and didn’t get home until after nine. She said she was too tired and just had some cafeteria food at the office.

Movie tickets, two of them, for the Sunday before last.

That day she said she had a meeting at work, left in the afternoon, and didn’t get back until night.

I stayed home and watched a soccer game all day, waiting for her to come back for dinner.

Ride-hailing records to that residential complex, at least twice a week.

The most recent one was three days ago.

I closed the tablet.

My phone rang. It was a message from Mom: Your dad and I are downstairs. We’re coming up now.

I stood up, my legs a little weak, and leaned against the wall for a moment.

I walked to the living room, opened the door, and then went back to sit on the sofa.

Soon, footsteps sounded outside. My mom came in first, and my dad followed behind her.

My mom saw me and her face changed. She hurried over.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“Mom, I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.”

“Where’s Mia?”

“She left.”

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know.”

My mom sat down beside me, and my dad stood on the other side of the coffee table.

“Ryan,” my dad said, his voice steady, “tell me exactly what happened.”

I looked at my dad and told him everything from the beginning.

The hotel’s cancellation call, Mia coming back, what she said, me asking to see her phone and her refusing, then her slamming the door and leaving.

I didn’t say that I had checked the tablet afterward.

After listening, my mom’s face turned dark with rage.

“This wedding is off.”

“Before you’re even married, she’s already hiding things from you. If you actually got married, what then? What the hell does Mia think she is? What part of you isn’t good enough for her?”

“There’s nothing to discuss. She can cancel the wedding behind your back today, and tomorrow she can do something else behind your back. Someone like that is not worth keeping.”