Chapter 4

I stood on the stage, not moving.

Below me, Ann's mother rushed forward, pointing at me, screaming.

"Where did this piece of trash crawl out of? Were you raised in a barn?"

The voices came at me from every direction.

"A grown girl, and instead of making something of yourself, you go around seducing other people's men!"

"Is this how your parents raised you? Aren't you afraid your tongue will rot off in your mouth?"

Seducing. Shameless.

I knew these words well.

The summer I was sixteen, I heard the exact same ones.

My father was an honest, ordinary high school teacher his whole life.

That year, my mother caught him with the woman next door.

My mother, always so quiet and gentle, dragged me to the woman's door.

She seized the woman's collar and would not let go.

"Why did you seduce my husband?"

"Why did you..."

She cried and cried, and the light in her eyes drained away, little by little.

That night, a fire broke out in our home.

Both my parents died in the flames.

From then on, I became the burden Oliver could never shake off.

For those few years, everyone knew Oliver had a madwoman on his hands.

Muttering about fire day and night, shaking at the smallest sound.

People told him to let me go while he still could, to go live his own life.

Every time, his face went dark and he cut them off.

Then he would turn around, kneel in front of me while I sat there out of my mind, and beg.

"Beryl, you're going to get better. I promise."

"For your own sake, and for mine."

A boy's vows are the surest medicine in this world.

I came back to myself more and more often.

But every time I came back, I pushed him away again.

"Because of me, you're crippled."

"Because of me, you never got to go to college."

"Oliver, thank you for loving me. But I don't want to drag you down for the rest of your life."

"Let me go."

Instead he held me tighter, his scalding tears falling on my face.

"No."

"You're my life. You're everything I have."

Back then, I believed him.

I believed him for twelve whole years.

Like an empty shell, I walked step by step back to the basement and pushed the door open.

The few pots of flowers on the windowsill had somehow died.

Just like Oliver's love.

My phone buzzed once, then again.

I opened it and found I was trending.

In the video, Ann was crying, tears streaming down her face.

Sobbing that her wedding of the century had been ruined by a home-wrecking makeup artist.

The comments crawled across the whole screen.

"A makeup artist thinks she can steal a man? Dying of laughter."

"She should go take a good look at herself in the mirror first."

"Rotten to the core."

Before long, they had dug up everything about me.

One big account posted a video with a title that stabbed at my eyes.

"SHOCKING! There's always a pitiful reason behind a hateful person."

"This home-wrecker makeup artist's own mother got pushed out by another woman back in the day..."

Tens of thousands of comments below, all laughing together.

My mother's madness, my mother's death, were the wounds I never dared to touch my whole life.

In their mouths they became a punchline to laugh over drinks.

Without thinking, I dialed Oliver's number.

It rang for a long time.

The one who picked up was Ann.

"Who are you looking for? My husband's in the shower."

I didn't say a single word. I hung up.

I curled myself into the deepest corner of the couch.

But fate wasn't done with me.

A friend of many years sent a message: "I never thought you were this kind of person. Let's delete each other."

The platform I had worked with for three years shut down my account without warning.

Late that night, the landlord pounded on my door.

"I felt sorry for you back then, so I rented it to you below market rate."

"Who'd have thought you were a slut who steals other people's men!"

I opened my mouth, wanting to explain.

"It wasn't me. Oliver is my..."

"You have one night to pack your things, sign, and get out!"

The termination contract landed at my feet.

I bent down to pick it up, and then I couldn't hold on anymore. I crouched on the floor, crying until I couldn't breathe.

The apartment had been leased under Oliver's name.

To break the lease, I still had to go to him.

Clutching the contract, I found my way to the office at his company.

Only Ann was inside.

She lifted her eyes and looked me up and down with disgust.

"Beryl, you still dare to show your face in front of me?"

Quietly, I set the papers on the desk.

"Remember to remind Oliver to sign."

Ann crossed her arms and gave a cold laugh.

"Who do you think you are, giving me orders?"

Then, as if she'd remembered something amusing, she laughed out loud.

"Did you really think I hired you for your skills?"

"I keep an entire team of makeup artists, and yet I called you across half the city at five in the morning."

My feet froze.

"Did you really think every time Oliver went on a business trip, it was a business trip?"

My nails dug hard into my palms.

Ann came closer, step by step, her voice light and sweet.

"I've known about you for a long time."

"Oliver had a worn-out old woman tucked away by his side."

"So I asked for you by name, made you do my makeup with your own hands."

She tilted her head, her eyes curving with a smile.

"Well? You got to witness our happiness in person. Happy?"

"Oh, right."

She said it like it had just come to her.

"Those shabby clothes you sent him, I threw them all out for you."

"No need to thank me..."

I lunged at her, and Ann stumbled backward, again and again.

In the struggle she pulled out a lighter and threw it at the couch.

Thick smoke filled the whole room in an instant.

Ann backed to the doorway and blocked the door behind her.

Through the firelight, she watched me, laughing louder and louder.

In that moment, I was back in that night when I was sixteen.

Only that year, someone had rushed in without a thought for himself and locked me tight in his arms.

This time, the smoke choked me until my mind went dim.

In the haze, I heard Oliver's voice.

"Beryl!"

He slammed the door open and rushed in, running toward me.

But Ann started crying out.

"Oliver, save me..."

He turned around and, without hesitation, scooped her up.

He never looked at me again.

Slowly, I drew back that outstretched hand.

Lying in a pool of blood, I lost consciousness completely.