Chapter 1

On our wedding anniversary, I received photos of my wife in bed with her first love.

She lay in his arms in a sheer nightgown, while he held the music scores I had spent three years writing.

Only then did I realize that the lyrics she once wrote about loving me were actually meant for someone else all along.

Perfect. She wanted her old flame, and I wanted my freedom.

I quietly burned every single manuscript I had ever written for her, leaving behind nothing but a signed divorce agreement.

The candlelight on the dining table flickered and died, and the dinner had long gone cold.

I checked my phone—it was already three in the morning.

I didn’t feel the slightest bit sleepy. Insomnia was just part of living with severe depression.

When it was at its worst, I couldn't sleep a wink all night unless Victoria was by my side.

After that, no matter how late it got, she always came home.

Yet five hours ago, Victoria sent me her last message:

"Just wrapped up at work. I'll be home in a bit."

That "in a bit" turned into five hours of waiting.

I didn’t text to ask why she wasn't back, because just half an hour after that message, I saw her on the news.

Location: JFK Airport.

The tabloids had put up a sensational headline: "Heiress of the Hastings Family Reunites with Her Ex—Caught in an Emotional Embrace!"

The photo of her hugging Julian Vance was plastered front and center.

I knew right then that Victoria probably wouldn't be coming home tonight.

Still, a faint glimmer of hope lingered in my chest. Maybe she would at least tell me.

Even if it was just a random excuse.

Yet until the candles burned out and the sky began to pale, I didn't receive a single message.

My emotions spiraled, and the physical symptoms of my depression began to tear through me.

I got up and took a pill bottle from the drawer, but my hands were shaking so hard that pills scattered all over the floor.

I had no choice but to swallow a few sleeping pills just to force myself to rest.

When the noise at the front door woke me, I sat up from the couch and saw Victoria walking in.

She clearly hadn’t slept all night, but the dark circles under her eyes couldn’t hide the radiant joy on her face.

The moment she saw me, that warmth instantly vanished.

"Why are you sleeping on the couch?"

Her gaze swept over the cold dinner on the table. She paused, then said with annoyance, "It’s completely cold. Just have the housekeeper toss it."

I looked at her, unable to hold back the question. "It’s our third anniversary. Did you go see Julian?"

I clamped my hand down on my other trembling wrist, trying to keep my voice steady.

"You promised me you would never see him again."

Victoria frowned. "He finally came back to the States. What's wrong with me picking him up at the airport?"

"I just offered him a ride. We're not going to be in touch going forward."

"Besides, what's the big deal about an anniversary? Can you stop making a fuss over every little petty thing?"

A wave of bitterness washed over me.

So our wedding anniversary was just a "petty thing" to her?

She claimed she didn't care about dates like this, but I remembered how it was when she was with Julian. She kept a dedicated note on her phone.

It was filled with all their silly milestones.

One month together, ninety-nine days together, their first road trip...

Pages and pages of random dates, tracked meticulously.

Yet with me, even mentioning our wedding anniversary annoyed her.

Victoria slammed the door shut. With that irritated jerk of her arm, a pale pink invitation slipped out of her purse.

I only caught a brief glimpse before she frantically shoved it back inside.

Before heading into the bedroom, she threw out a cold remark:

"I have some things to take care of the next couple of days. I'm staying over at my parents' place. Don't bother calling."

I said nothing. It was always like this.

The moment something didn't go her way, she would pack up and run back to her parents.

In the past, I would always apologize immediately and beg her to stay.

Today, I was just too exhausted to care.

That evening, just as I was about to scrounge up whatever was in the fridge, my phone chimed.

A friend request from a stranger.

The moment I accepted, a digital invitation popped up.

Pale pink. The exact same one from Victoria’s purse.

"It’s my welcome-home party tonight. Why not come by, freshman?"

Seeing that word—freshman—sent a violent jolt through my chest.

The shadows of the past closed in around me once more.

"Victoria said you were too busy to come, but I figured that was just because I hadn't invited you myself."

The message ended with a simple, mocking question:

"Coming?"

It was pure, silent provocation.

The next evening, I got into a cab heading to the venue.

Not for any other reason than to see what Victoria was hiding from me so desperately.