She blinked slowly, as light bounced off her opening eyes, the pungent smell of antiseptic flooding her nose. Something was off.

The ceiling was white, the curtains were too, and the insane beeping of a machine rang in her ears.

She closed her eyes with a sigh, and slowly, the events of the previous night began filling the blank pages of her mind. She bit her lip hard.

The door slid open, and she heard the familiar overly feminine gasp.

“Oh, Amelia, you’re awake,” Isabel exclaimed softly, walking towards her with a tray of fruits, her eyes full of concern, “Why were you driving at such crazy speed? If not for Fred, the police would have been here the minute you…” Isabel went on, spinning out words like a web.

If it were before, Amelia would have laughed, pleased to see Isabel, but right now, her chest was burning, her expression tight, as Isabel's words continued to drone through her ear endlessly.

Finally, Isabel sighed, “So how do you feel, Amy? Things could have been much worse,” She took Amelia's hand in hers.

“I’m fine,” Amelia sat up with Isabel's help, her head swimming with a rising throb.

Isabel continued, “You’ll be discharged soon. Please be more careful. You'll break Fred to pieces if something happens to you.”

Amelia looked at Isabel's warm face, her gaze fierce. ‘Liar’ she wanted to spit at Isabel, but she bit back her words, and did the hardest thing ever—forcing a smile on her face.

~

The sun was disappearing down the horizon when Amelia stepped down from Fred's car, Isabel rushing to hold her arms, so she could walk.

“Careful,” Fred said, taking her hand.

Pretense at it's highest level of mastering. They'd been fussing over her nonstop, since she'd left the hospital.

“Do you want me to stay the night? So you can get enough rest?” Isabel asked, wiping sweat off Amelia's brow, and Amelia felt sick to the core, disgust seizing her insides in a clamp-like grip.

But they didn't stop. The two of them kept up their act of pretense throughout that night, and even over the next few days.

Isabel dropped in every single day to check on her, often staying till late in the night, but Amelia was waiting—waiting for their anniversary, waiting for the excuses.

“Happy anniversary, baby!” Fred shouted to her as soon as she opened her eyes on the D-day of their sixth wedding anniversary.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes, “Thank you,”

“Here,” Fred crossed the room to get a rose, but knocked over his open suitcase half-filled with folded clothes.

“Baby? Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Something came up at headquarters. Very urgent.”

And here the excuse was, standing unbelievably before her.

“But it’s our anniversary, and you promised to make up for the other years you were away.”

She'd believed him when he said that, and for some reason, she hoped that what she heard that day was false. That nothing would come between them, that… perhaps she was hearing things.

Fred sighed, packing more clothes into his bag.

“Why are you being difficult right now? Don't be like that. I’ll get you a nice gift on my way back, and we can celebrate this next time, okay? I have to be at the office headquarters before evening.”

Amelia's lips parted to speak, but his phone rang.

He spoke, “Yes, I’m almost done. I’ll handle the business perfectly. You can count on me.”

Amelia struggled to believe he was saying the truth but she knew he wasn’t. The call was probably one of his ways to fool her just like other years.

“I’ll be back before you know it, dear. Come and see me off,” He said, leaning in to hug her. Amelia swallowed the rising lump in her throat, hating how her eyes burned, but she struggled.

She mustn’t let him see her tears.

This year’s trip was different; there was no Isabel joining him for the trip. They didn't pack together as usual.

Could he be saying the truth? Perhaps she really misunderstood that night?

“Hey, Fred!” Isabel’s sweet voice rang out.

Amelia looked up and saw Isabel walking into the house, wearing only a cropped t-shirt and baggy jeans—casual, but astonishingly beautiful.

A cake was in her hands, “Fred and Amy; congratulations to you two on your wedding anniversary,” she continued, her smile burning bright.

“Thank you,” they replied almost simultaneously.

“Fred? What's with the traveling bags?”

Isabel asked.

“Something came up at headquarters; I have to be there.”

“No, that’s not nice, I was looking forward to a very interesting party today. What’s going to happen to the cake?”

“We’ll keep it in the fridge. Perhaps, celebrate it when I return,” Fred answered.

As they spoke, Amelia watched them, slightly confused. That day, she clearly heard them saying they would leave for France or Dubai together…

Wait. Was she mistaken, or was this another one of their tricks?

“Damn. The cake's going to waste,” Isabel muttered, her brows furrowed, “Also, Amelia won't like this. You did this the last time too. Although I know how important that was, but…”

“I know it sounds, and looks bad, Isabel. The cake can stay in the fridge, but I promise I'll make it up to Amelia. Thanks for your concern.” He said, then went to Amelia, giving her a cheek on the kiss, “I'll be off.”

“Bye,” Amelia replied lightly, waving at him absentmindedly, as he walked out of the house, heading straight for the car.

There was no Paris or Dubai trip happening. She'd heard wrong.

“Amelia, I'm really sorry this had to happen. Perhaps, you just have to wait,” Isabel said, her expression soft.

It's all good. If he's not spending our anniversary with me, then at least he's not spending it with you either, Amelia thought.

“I guess. Thanks for the cake,” She muttered, a hint of a tiny smile on her face.

Now, Amelia's doubts were cleared. Eventually, she spent half the day with Isabel, who tried to make it up to her.

“Shopping is checked out,” Isabel said, hours later as they left the shopping mall, “Now, we have the spa, and the restaurant left. Let's go.”

However, her joy and relief were nothing but short-lived. Amelia's hopes were eventually crashed brutally.

How did it happen? She was online a few days later, checking out matching couple dresses on Instagram, wanting to have one with Fred when he came back. Then she stumbled on Isabel's account which was suggested to her.

“Oh. A new account?” She muttered then smiled, “Let’s follow her.”

Tap, Amelia's finger clicked on the profile, and the very first post she saw was a video of Isabel, holding a bouquet of red roses, sniffing them, and looking like an angel.

She was dressed in a golden bodycon gown which accentuated her curves before flaring out in a long train at her knees to the ground.

“Is she having an anniversary with her fiance too?” She mumbled in envy with a faint smile, only for someone familiar to come into the video frame.

Her smile faded.

“You're so beautiful that… I want to be the only one who can see you,” Fred said, looking down at Isabel, with twinkling eyes. He held her hand against the rose, then raised it to his lips to kiss it.

Isabel's ears turned a fierce shade of red, as a song began to play in the background. Her world was spiraling into the sky.

Meanwhile, Amelia was dissolving into nothing. She couldn't even feel her heart in her chest. It was dull, numb, and a painful sting came from somewhere unknown deep within her.

All she could see was black, and that black was punctured by their smiling faces. She bit her lip hard, eyes welling up fiercely.

Perfect. They'd fooled her!

She took a screenshot of the video with shaking hands, and stormed out of her room, grabbing a coat as she did so.

First, she would question that stupid fiance of Isabel's, who let her go around, snatching other people's men.

She yanked open the door of her car, slammed it, and strapped her seatbelt, before squeezing the steering wheel.

“It's fine,” she scolded herself, “You knew all along. It's freaking fine. You're not hurt. This… this doesn't even have a hold on you. You're just mad!” Her eyes shone even as she forced the words out, tears streaking down her cheeks aggressively.

Then she turned the ignition, stepping on the brakes as the car picked up speed, while dialing the number that had been given to her once when Isabel couldn't reach her fiance.

She was going to meet this man—the man who couldn't hold his wife!

Amelia sat in the cafe, soft blues playing in the background, while she sipped on her latte.

She was calmer now—after being stood up by Isabel's fiance, who made her wait in the cafe for almost an hour, she lost the rage that had been brimming within her.

She simply stared at the image of her and Fred, which she used as a wallpaper, multiple sighs puffing past her lips at intervals.

Then her phone rang. It was Isabel's husband. She sighed again, then picked it up.

“Hello? You don't need to…”

“I'll give you an address. Come there.” He said curtly, and ended the call. Amelia looked at the phone, amazed at his rudeness. So the couple were the same after all. One seduced other people's husbands, while the other threw people around.

She rose to her feet, as a text came in. Well, she won't even tell him not to bother; she won't be the only one shattering in silence. He would see his wife, and what she was doing!

Amelia downed her latte in one go, and left the cafe, heading back to her car.

He'd given her his house address, and that was the exact place she drove to, transferring anger onto the steering wheel—anger she would transfer onto a man who didn't know how to secure his wife.

However, Amelia was thoroughly shaken when she got to meet him.

First, they had a whole freaking mansion just like the one her family had. She didn't get a mansion for her and Fred because she wanted to feel him close to her no matter where he was in the house.

So Isabel had a rich husband, then why was she chasing Amelia's??

Amelia was welcomed into the mansion with its plush sofas, elegant paintings, marble floors, and fluorescent lighting.

“He's this way,” a maid said, and they walked through the house to a backdoor, where they eventually came into the garden.

And there, Amelia's husband was, with a little girl. He was holding her hand, as they painted, laughing while she giggled. They seemed to be painting a person.

Amelia stopped. That exact thing had happened between her and Fred before—painting.

“Mr. Fields, she's here.” The maid said, directing me to sit at a table with fruits. Then the man turned, and as Amelia looked at him, she was awestruck.

He was a painting himself! Elegant strokes of beauty in his every feature! Why… then why did Isabel cheat on him?

And who was the little girl who clung onto him?

“Run along now, Leah. I'll be back,” he said to her, and she nodded, before racing across the garden. Then he took a seat before her, “Now let's discuss why you're here. You're Isabel's friend, aren't you?”

“Did Isabel have a kid? And no one knows?” Amelia found herself asking.

“No. It's mine. My kid before I met Isabel. So please move on; I'm a busy man,”

“Now I see the problem,” Amelia spat, “Your fiance is cheating on you because you're so busy, and cold-hearted.” She pushed the phone towards him, but he only raised a brow.

“Why are you showing me an image of Isabel with her fiance?” He asked, his voice cold and spiteful.

“What?” Amelia asked, the words coming out a bit light, as she stared at him in scorn.

“Isabel broke off our engagement two months ago, and has a new life with this man,”

“I… I don't understand. This man is my…”

“And… point of correction. Isabel didn't leave because I'm busy and cold-hearted. She left for the same reasons all women leave. She thinks I'm poor, so she left. Now, if you'll excuse me; I have a meeting to attend to.” He turned, walking away while Amelia simply stared in space.

Isabel's fiance. How? The man there was her husband!