"From this moment on, I'll give 27-year-old Liliana three chances," I said.

And after the three chances were used up, I would also keep my promise to leave Liliana forever. I would make sure she never found me.

I drew in a deep breath and pushed open the door to the private room. Liliana was the first to rush over. She leaned tenderly against my shoulder, the hard-edged, decisive businesswoman suddenly acting all soft and cute with me.

"Babe, you're finally here. I've been waiting forever," she said.

"Simon, if you'd come any later, Lili would've turned into a statue staring off into the distance while searching for you," one of her friends joked.

"Sit, Simon. Lili has already cut the steak for you."

One after another, Liliana's girlfriends chimed in, painting this picture of how deeply she loved me.

Love did need to be spoken aloud, but it never needed outsiders to prove it. That was something 17-year-old Liliana had taught me. Somewhere along the way, at 27, she'd forgotten that.

I smiled bitterly and followed the gaze that was practically burning a hole in me. That was when I saw him in the crowd—Maurice.

He had a boyishly innocent face, but his body was surprisingly well-built. He definitely had what it took to attract Liliana.

When our eyes met, he deliberately flicked his gaze down at Liliana's belly before standing up. Then, he raised his glass, open provocation shining in his eyes.

"So, this is Simon. It's our first meeting—I hope you'll do me the honor of drinking with me," he said, emphasizing "first meeting".

After all, he'd already sent me countless videos and photos of him and Liliana wrapped around each other. Those images had stabbed over and over into my heart like needles. The only difference now was that he and Liliana were both fully clothed.

Liliana's expression changed drastically as Maurice held the drink out to me. She stepped in front of me, saying coldly, "My husband doesn't like alcohol."

Her blatant attempt to shield me didn't upset Maurice. If anything, his smile only widened. "What are you so nervous about?"

He switched to Orinian, giving me a slow once-over as he spoke. "I'm just toasting Simon. That shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"Yeah, Lili," one of Liliana's girlfriends chimed in. "You're enjoying the best of both worlds now. Simon doesn't understand what we're saying anyway. Just make something up and give him a reason to take a drink…"

I couldn't understand what they were saying, but the mocking looks they tossed my way made their malice crystal clear.

Liliana instinctively wanted to refuse again, but under the weight of all those expectant stares, the swell of pride in her chest made her hesitate. A flicker of struggle passed through her eyes before she turned to me. She began, "Babe, how about you just—"

I cut her off. "Do you want me to drink?"

The 17-year-old version of Liliana looked anxious as she cried, "Si, you're allergic to alcohol. You can't drink!"

But the 27-year-old version of Liliana nodded after a brief moment of hesitation.

I smiled, raised my glass in the direction of the 17-year-old only I could see. "This is the first time."

The liquid slid down my throat with a faint bitterness that burned so sharply that it almost brought tears to my eyes. In 17-year-old Liliana's eyes, anxiety crumbled into raw heartache, then turned to a deep, unbearable guilt.

The 27-year-old version of Liliana didn't understand what "the first time" really meant. She just wrapped her arms around me tenderly. "Babe, I promise that this is the first and last time you'll ever drink."

I lowered my gaze.

The 17-year-old version of Liliana knew I was allergic to alcohol. That was why, even at our wedding reception, she'd downed every toast for me without complaint.

But the 27-year-old woman she was now had someone else in her heart. She'd long since forgotten all of that.

Liliana now had two chances left.

Because of the alcohol, red blotches quickly broke out all over my face, and my head started spinning. That was when Liliana finally remembered my allergy.

She panicked, and guilt flooded her eyes. "Babe, I'll take you to the hospital."

Her concern used to make me feel warm all over. Now, it only made something sour and nauseating rise from the pit of my stomach.

I shook off her hand, my tone so flat that it was almost cold. "Don't bother. I'll go home, take some meds, and sleep it off. You guys have fun."

"No way. You're my husband. How can I just let you go home alone?" Her tone turned urgent.

She shot to her feet, grabbed my coat, and draped it over my shoulders. "Come on. We're going to the hospital. Otherwise, I won't be able to relax."

With that, she ignored the puzzled stares from the others in the private room. She didn't even spare a glance at Maurice, who sat in a corner with a dark look on his face.

Liliana gripped my arm tightly and half-supported, half-dragged me out of the room. When we got to the hospital, she rushed around nonstop, from having me registered to getting a doctor and picking up my meds.

Her steps were hurried, and she kept muttering, "Babe, hang in there. It's almost over."

It wasn't until she heard the doctor say it wasn't serious that the anxiety finally started to fade from her face.

She sat by the hospital bed, holding my hand, her gaze sincere. "Babe, this is all my fault. I would never have forgiven myself in this lifetime if anything happened to you because of that drink."

I looked at her, my feelings a tangled mess. I'd never once doubted that Liliana's love for me was true. The way she treated me and worried about me stemmed from her love.

The only issue was that her love was too cheap. All someone had to do was crook their finger to have it.

I looked away from her. The 17-year-old version of Liliana was beside me, her eyes red-rimmed with unshed tears. Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, nothing came out.

All of a sudden, I felt exhausted. The physical discomfort and the weight in my chest made me want to do nothing but sleep.

I said to Liliana, "I'm going to rest."

She carefully tucked the blanket around me and wiped the cold sweat from my forehead. She looked at me tenderly, saying, "Go to sleep. I'll be right here with you."

I nodded and stopped responding. Just as I was drifting off, her phone rang. I could feel her gaze, which had been resting on me, suddenly falter. Then, after some hesitation, she picked up her phone and tiptoed out of the room to answer the call.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling for a long time. Liliana didn't come back, but the 17-year-old version of her did. She kept her head down, not daring to look at me.

"Was it Maurice who called her away?" I asked.

She didn't answer. She just bit her lip, unconsciously balling her hands into fists.

I let out a bitter laugh. "Where did she go?"

She was silent for a long time before finally forcing out a few words. "The parking lot."

I pulled out the IV needle and got out of bed. She rushed to stand in my way, her voice tight with panic. "Si, maybe she just had something else to take care of. Don't go. Please, don't go…"

By the end, she was practically begging.

But when I looked at her, my reddened eyes held a stubborn edge. She met my gaze and, in the end, slowly stepped aside.

It wasn't hard to spot Liliana's car. After all, this late at night, there weren't many people having intimacy in their cars in the hospital parking lot. She must've been in a rush. The back door of the car wasn't even fully closed.

A torn pair of stockings dangled by the car door. From inside came a man's low, rough groans. "Lili, would Simon ever do this with you in the car? Do you like me, or do you like him more?"

A woman's breathy, all-too-familiar moans echoed clearly through the empty parking lot. "In the car, I like you the most."

Those intimate, filthy words were like knives that stabbed straight into my heart… and 17-year-old Liliana's too.

Her beautiful, youthful face was twisted in agony. She looked at me, her voice trembling as she said, "Si, just cry if you want to."

I shook my head. "I won't cry."

I withdrew my gaze. Despite the pain burning in my chest, I kept my expression blank. "Liliana, this is the second time."

I stood there quietly. I had no idea how long I stayed frozen in place. Eventually, Liliana climbed out of the car, looking utterly sated.

Her skirt was wrinkled, and one of the buttons on her blouse was missing. She had a smile on her face as she lifted her head, only to lock eyes with me.

Her face instantly drained of color. "B-babe? What are you doing here?"

I didn't answer her question. I just looked past her at Maurice in the car. His face glistened with sweat, and there was a small damp patch on his tailored dress pants.

My silence only made Liliana more frantic. She rushed toward me, reaching for my arm, but I stepped back, avoiding her touch.

"Babe, I can explain. It's not what you think. I—"

"Save it." I cut her off, my expression calm as I looked her in the eye. "I don't want to hear it."

Her hand froze in midair. Her lips parted as if to say something, but Maurice had gotten out of the car and was moving toward me. His eyes were red, and he looked like he was the victim in this whole thing.

"Simon, Liliana and I just couldn't control ourselves. It's all my fault. If you want to blame someone, then blame—ah!"

He suddenly grabbed my hand and slammed it hard into his own stomach. He collapsed onto the ground, staring up at me in feigned shock. "Simon, I just wanted to apologize. Why did you do this? Why did you punch me?"

He clutched his stomach, letting out a few agonized groans. "Liliana, it hurts… It really hurts…"

Concern flooded Liliana's eyes. She completely forgot about me and turned to help him up. "Mo, are you okay? Hang in there. I'll take you to the ER."

Maurice caught her sleeve. "Don't worry about me. Simon must be furious. Go talk to him and calm him down."

At that, Liliana looked back at me, her expression twisted with conflict. "Babe…"

"I didn't hit him," I said evenly.

"But Mo is so naive…" She trailed off, but the part she left unsaid landed on my heart like a sledgehammer. She meant that Maurice was too naive to pull something so manipulative.

I let out a small laugh and stepped aside, clearing the way to the elevator. "Are you going to walk away from me for him?"

Liliana's face was full of pain. "Babe, I swear to you that my feelings for you have never changed."

Her voice was firm and full of conviction, as if she truly believed I should trust in her love. "But right now, Mo is suffering. I can't just leave him like this."