Chapter 2

The paramedic pressed an oxygen mask to my face, and the agonizing chest tightness of my asthma attack finally eased a little.

"You need to rest for a few days. Look at all these old injuries on your body," the nurse said, frowning at my chart.

"Severe malnutrition, asthma, low blood sugar... If you keep pushing yourself like this, how is your baby supposed to survive?"

"Where is your husband? Call him to come and take care of you."

I forced a bitter smile.

"...He's not coming."

My body had broken down solely because I was working myself to death to save him.

My entire life had revolved around making money. I thought if I could just make a few thousand more dollars, he could have his life-saving surgery.

Yet today, he stood before me, glowing with health, without a single trace of illness.

I touched my flat stomach, tears spilling over.

I hadn't even given my baby enough nutrients, all because I was running myself ragged for his lies.

How could I have been so incredibly stupid?

My phone buzzed. It was a message from Julian.

"I'll explain everything tonight."

"Make sure you clean the apartment first. Nobody's lived there for a week, and it’s filthy."

My fingers trembled as I slowly typed back,

"Did you not see that I was hospitalized?"

After a long pause, his reply came.

"Whatever."

"If the place is dirty, I'm not coming home."

Suddenly, I found it hilarious.

He was a neat freak. To make him comfortable in our crummy studio apartment, I used to clean the entire place top to bottom every single day.

Even when my period cramps were so bad I was on the verge of fainting, I would still wash the bedsheets until they were spotless.

He used to wrap his arms around me, laughing softly in my ear.

"It feels so good to be with you. I really want to spend the rest of my life like this."

Back then, I was so blinded by his sweet words.

So, even when his business failed and left him in debt, and even when he claimed he had stomach cancer and needed constant, expensive treatments, I never gave up on him.

Aside from my day job as a graphic designer, I took on deliveries and worked at a street food cart.

I kept telling myself that if I just worked a little harder, took on a few more shifts, we would eventually have a happy life.

I stayed on the IV drip until dusk before dragging myself back to the apartment.

The place was small and empty, with a thin layer of dust coating the furniture.

Usually, I would have grabbed a rag and scrubbed the place three times over by now.

But now, I just sat there in the dark.

I had previously created a burner Instagram account pretending to be a local snack vendor to follow Julian's private account.

The moment I clicked on his profile, my screen was flooded with updates.

Photos of him shopping with a girl, silly selfies at the zoo, and shots of them holding hands on the beach.

Suddenly, a photo at an amusement park pierced my eyes.

In the picture, he was buying a doughnut for the girl.

The caption read: "Hope you stay sweet forever."

And the person selling the doughnut was me, wearing a hot, heavy mascot suit, working myself to death to earn money for him.

I was doing silly dances in that costume, making treats, and handing them to the girl he loved.

In that photo, neither of us had recognized the other.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed. Julian had sent a message to my burner Instagram account.

"Hi, my girlfriend loves cake. How much for a custom one?"

I never liked cake. This was for her.

Staring at the screen, I typed in a standard two-digit price.

The next second, he sent me $500 via PayPal.

"Keep the change as a tip. Please make it as fast as possible. Thanks."

I had been skipping $15 meals just to save money for his medical bills.

Yet, he threw around $500 like it was pocket change, just to get his girl a cake a little faster.

Seeing that I hadn't replied immediately, he sent another $500.

"I’ll pay extra. Can you deliver it within two hours?"

I accepted the money and asked for the address.

It was a five-star luxury hotel downtown.