When the news of his death reached me, grief tore me apart. I passed out from crying, again and again.

I'd been clutching his clothes, burying my face in the fading scent of him, ready to end my own life—and all that time, he'd already found someone else. Already chosen her. Already planning a wedding.

"When we first got together, I had a falling-out with my roommate. I was going to rent some cheap place in the old quarter, but he took every penny he'd saved and bought me an apartment near work. Put it in my name."

The memory surfaced without warning.

When we were looking for a place to rent, the sun-facing rooms cost two hundred dollars more a month. I couldn't bring myself to spend it, so I lived in a room with no sunlight for two years.

My clothes never dried properly. I got a urinary tract infection.

One night I woke up at 2 a.m. passing blood, drenched in cold sweat from the pain.

Julian panicked. He scooped me up and ran to the hospital like a man possessed.

In the corridor, he crouched in front of me and gripped my hands, his eyes full of guilt and anguish.

"Gertie, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm useless—I let you suffer like this."

"I swear I'll work harder. I'll buy you a place with a big balcony."

"He always said every single day we were together was an anniversary. He'd surprise me out of nowhere."

Grace's voice pulled me back. She held up her phone, beaming.

"This is my account—just for documenting our life together."

Her slender, manicured fingers scrolled down. Every post dripped with luxury. Jewelry, fresh flowers, designer goods, and a postnatal recovery center that cost tens of thousands a month.

And the pinned post at the very top—two crimson marriage certificates.

The date.

It was the day I tried to kill myself for him.

I stood frozen. A high-pitched ringing flooded my ears. My whole body shook, and my nails dug so hard into my palms I could feel the skin split.

At that exact moment, thunder cracked across the sky, its flash sweeping over the massive villa.

It lit up Julian's face. His expression was unreadable—dark and impenetrable.

Grace snapped back to the present and turned to me.

"Miss Harding, it looks like there's going to be a terrible downpour. Why don't you stay and have dinner with us?"

I choked down the nausea rising with the grief, and forced a smile.

"No, thank you. I have another job nearby, and I'm running behind."

I fled the villa. Fat raindrops crashed down the second I stepped outside.

I pried open my rusted umbrella and stood alone at the curb, hands shaking as I lit up my phone screen. The wallpaper stared back at me, and I let out a bitter laugh.

It was a photo of Julian and me against a red backdrop, taken on our third anniversary. We'd planned to use it for our wedding portrait.

Tears burned at the edges of my eyes. A gust of wind ripped through, and the umbrella was torn from my grip.

Without its shelter, the rain hit me full force. My foot slipped. I went down hard, sprawling on the ground.

Ice-cold mud soaked through every layer. Humiliation and despair crashed over me at once, and I collapsed forward, sobbing so hard no sound came out at first—then all of it came pouring out.

A tall figure stepped in front of me, blocking the rain.

I looked up through blurred, tear-soaked eyes and met Julian's face. His brows were drawn tight, and buried deep in his gaze was a flicker of pain he almost managed to hide.

"Gertie, is this how you've been taking care of yourself while I was gone?"

I shoved him back with both hands.

"How dare you. How dare you say that to me."

"Why couldn't you have actually died? Was it fun—lying to me?"

"You faked your own death for that woman. What does that make me? Something worthless you could just throw away?"

"Enough!"

Julian's face went black with rage.

"All of it was my fault. Leave Grace out of this."

A laugh scraped out of my throat—raw, mocking.

"Mr. Weiss really does love his wife."

The words barely left my mouth before my hand swung up, and I slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

My wrist throbbed from the impact, and my heart ached so badly I could barely breathe.

He turned his head away, his Adam's apple bobbing, both fists clenched white-knuckle tight.

When he finally spoke, his voice came out raw.

"Gertie, I'm sorry..."

I listened to those words, raised my hand, and swung another slap across his face.

But before it could land, he pulled me into his arms.

That was when Grace's voice rang out behind us.

"Julian... what is this?"

"Grace, it's pouring out here. Why did you come outside?"

Julian shoved me away in a panic, turning to face those reddened eyes of hers.

Grace stared at him in disbelief, her voice hoarse and cracking.

"You lied to me. Told me you had business at the office. And all this time you were out here wrapped around this tramp?"

"If I hadn't noticed you left your phone behind, I never would've known what kind of man you really are!"

She lunged forward, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and slapped me hard across the face.

"Miss Harding, I was kind enough to invite you to dinner, and this is how you repay me? Throwing yourself at someone else's husband?"

Julian pulled her into his arms, his voice dropping low and soothing.

"Grace, stop. Don't do this. You still have the baby to think about."

That only made her spiral further. She screamed until her voice broke.

"Oh, so NOW you remember I'm carrying your child?!"

"And you go and do THIS to me!"

"You know the one thing I hate most in this world is a homewrecker!"

My scalp burned. My cheek stung like fire. I looked at Julian, at the guilt carved across his face, and my voice came out strangled.

"Julian. Tell her. Between the two of us, who's really the other woman?"

His gaze dropped. His lips pressed into a hard line. He didn't say a single word.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh and took out my phone, unlocking my private album.

"Since he won't say it, I will."

"Take a good look, Miss Barnes. Between the two of us, who is the third wheel?"

Grace's entire body went rigid. Her head snapped up, eyes flooding with disbelief as she turned to Julian.

"You told me I was your first love. You lied to me!"

She screamed, stumbling backward.

Her foot slipped, and she crashed against the edge of a planter.

Julian's face drained of color. He lunged forward, catching Grace before she hit the ground, her face white as paper.

She shoved at him wildly. "Get away from me! Don't touch me!"

"I'll get rid of this baby. I won't let my child be a homewrecker's child!"

Julian's eyes rimmed red. He scooped her up, arms locked tight around her waist, his voice thick with anguish.

"Don't talk like that. You're my wife. You and this baby are my whole world."

I reached out instinctively to stop him, but his shoulder slammed into me and sent me sprawling to the ground. He looked down at me, his expression dark as a storm.

"You knew Grace was pregnant, and you still said those things to provoke her!"

"If anything happens to her or the baby, I will never forgive you."

I lay on the wet ground. A shard of broken glass on the pavement had driven itself into my arm, and blood soaked through my sleeve in seconds.

I watched his retreating back, that unwavering, merciless back, and it felt like a fist had closed around my heart and was crushing it to pulp.

But Julian... I gave you a daughter too.

I drifted into a strange, fractured dream.

The sky blazed with fireworks, brilliant and blinding, and Julian knelt before me on one knee, a simple ring cradled in his palms, his eyes full of reverence.

"Gertie, the luckiest thing that ever happened to me was meeting you. Falling in love with you."

"Will you marry me?"

The scene shattered. In its place was Julian holding Grace, walking away without a backward glance, and the image seared into my eyes like staring into the sun.

I sobbed, crying out through the haze.

"Julian, don't leave me..."

My eyes flew open. A warm hand was pressed firmly over mine.

Julian sat at the edge of the hospital bed, brows drawn tight, holding down the spot where the IV needle pierced my skin.

I yanked my hand back as if I'd been burned.

Blood beaded instantly at the puncture site, the skin flushing red and swollen.

"Gertrude, no matter how much you hate me, you can't treat your own body like it doesn't matter."

"The doctor said every one of your markers is below normal. You're overworked and malnourished."

He seized my hand again, and his gaze caught on the scar across my wrist. Something raw flickered behind his eyes.

"It's been four years. You should have forgotten me by now. Moved on with your life."

I let out a bitter laugh. The bridge of my nose stung, and tears spun wildly behind my eyes, threatening to fall.

Who doesn't want to move on?

But the moment he died, every part of my soul left with him. What remained was just a shell, no different from a walking corpse.

The only thing that kept me breathing was my daughter.

I found out she existed the same day I tried to kill myself.

A neighbor coming home from a late shift noticed my door was open, walked in, and found me barely alive, clutching Julian's clothes to my chest.

After they brought me back, the doctors told me I was three months pregnant.

Everyone told me to let go. Julian was gone. The baby would be nothing but a burden I'd carry for the rest of my life. They urged me to end the pregnancy while I still could.

But I refused.

He was gone. That child was the only proof that what we had was real.

The only tie he still had to this world.

I underestimated how cruel life could be.

Before she was even six months old, Jeanette Harding was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect.

So for four years, I never stopped. Not for a single moment.

Every time I felt like I couldn't go on, I'd pull up my old messages with Julian, reading those tender words over and over.

Foolishly telling myself that if he were really here, he would never let me suffer like this.

What I never imagined was that when I finally saw him again, he'd be healthy, wealthy, thriving, with a doting wife in his arms and an unborn child on the way.

While my daughter was trapped in a body racked with pain, waiting day after day for a father's love that would never come.

How ironic. How laughable.

My heart felt like it had been ripped open, raw and bleeding, the pain radiating through every limb, every bone.

Julian watched me in silence. Then he exhaled, long and heavy, his voice thick with guilty resignation.

"Gertrude, I know I failed you."

"Whatever you want, name it. If it's in my power, I'll make it happen."

"I want you to divorce her."

I lifted my eyes and looked straight into his.

"Give me back what you owe me. All of it."

"Can you do that?"

His hand went rigid around mine. When he looked at me, there was something pleading in his gaze.

"Gertrude, Grace and I are already married."

"She's fragile. She's not strong like you. If I leave her, she and the baby could both be in danger."

"Gertrude, you know how hard it is for a child to grow up without a father."

Those words sliced into me like a blade, and tears splashed onto the back of my hand.

How could I not know?

I was raised by a single mother myself.

I knew exactly how many cold stares, how much hardship a child endured without a father's protection.

I sniffed hard, my voice breaking.

"I know. That's why I—"

But before I could finish, Julian cut me off, his expression turning cold.

His tone dropped to ice, and his eyes filled with heavy disappointment and blame.