Chapter 5

A light rain started to fall in the evening.

When Julian came home, I was standing in front of the mirror, analyzing every inch of my face.

My eyes were still bright, my skin fair, my lips rosy.

But age doesn't lie. I knew I was no longer young. I had lost that vibrant spark.

I looked like a dead, stagnant lake.

A warm, large hand suddenly wrapped around my waist. Julian leaned down and hugged me from behind. "Why are you crying?" he asked, surprised.

I lowered my eyes, my voice flat. "I accidentally poked my eye while removing my makeup."

Julian let out a soft laugh, turned me around, and carefully examined my face. He gently rubbed my eyelid with his thumb.

"Still so clumsy."

Feeling the warmth of his thumb, I looked at him through my tear-filled eyes and asked quietly, "Do you still love me?"

His hand froze, then slowly pulled away. Julian leaned against the bathroom doorframe, his expression unreadable. "Why are you asking that?"

I stood there, still clutching the edge of his sleeve, staring at him.

After a long pause, he sighed, wiped the tears from my face, and carried me out of the bathroom.

"You're a grown woman. Why do you still need to be coddled like a little girl?"

Before going to sleep, Julian brushed my hair aside and put a necklace around my neck. "Happy birthday, Elena."

I clenched my fists under the blanket, forcing my voice to sound calm.

"Your meeting ran really late today. Did everything go well?"

Julian paused for a second before replying smoothly, "Yes."

I stared at his back as he turned away from me. "It's late. Go to sleep."

My eyes remained open all night.

Only after I was sure Julian was fast asleep did I sit up. I quietly took his phone from the nightstand and unlocked it.

A long time ago, Julian had registered my fingerprint on his phone.

We had dated for two years and been married for five. I trusted him completely and had never once checked his phone.

Perhaps because of that trust, Julian had no guard up against me. His Snapchat was filled with flirty, intimate messages with that young girl.

Her name was Chloe, a new intern at his company. He had saved her contact name as "Sweet."

When Chloe complained about her long commute from her cheap apartment, Julian immediately rented a luxury high-rise apartment for her right next to the office.

He even went furniture shopping with her.

Pink bedsheets, a bright yellow sofa, even the kitchen plates—they had built a sweet little love nest together, piece by piece.

My fingers trembled as I scrolled down.

Before Julian came home tonight, Chloe had sent him a picture. She was wearing a pink topaz necklace around her delicate collarbone.

“I love pink. Only old women wear that tacky blue tourmaline.”

Julian’s reply: “You're right. You're the prettiest. You look way better than any gemstone.”

I reached up and gripped the blue tourmaline necklace hanging around my neck. I felt like I was drowning in the deep ocean, suffocating.

My tears dripped onto the screen. I wiped them away and kept scrolling.

It turned out that six months ago, Julian had taken Chloe to Paris.

They had held hands and carved "I love you" on a wall in Montmartre.

Their last messages were from right before he came home. Chloe had demanded impatiently:

“When are you going to divorce that old woman?”

“I hate sharing you. The thought of you being in the same house as her makes me sick.”

Julian’s reply was short: “I'll handle it soon.”

Looking at the cute emojis he used, I felt a wave of misery. Since when did the cold, mature Julian start using such childish emojis?

Julian had also sent Chloe a thirty-three-second voice note. I transcribed it to read:

"Sweet, don't be sad. I love you, and I'm yours. We have a lifetime ahead of us. Don't worry about the obstacles right now. I'll handle everything and come to you."