After my husband came back from a business trip, he took me on a vacation to Hawaii.

We had just finished a swim in the infinity pool when Ethan Brooks suddenly looked at me under the sunlight and said,

“Baby, why do you look so pale?”

I froze for a second. After eight years together, it wasn’t like this was the first day he’d noticed.

I teased him with a playful smile. “What, did you see some tan beauty during your trip?”

Ethan’s body stiffened, then he laughed it off and pushed me against the pool’s edge to kiss me.

The kiss was fierce, almost punishing, and his voice carried a trace of irritation:

“Don’t joke around, baby. You know I don’t care about anyone else.”

That night, Ethan wanted me several times, each time carrying a hint of punishment.

Even after we returned home, my best friend Sophia Miller, who worked as a private investigator, teased me:

“Well, look at that glow! Looks like Ethan worked pretty hard during the trip, huh?”

But I only grabbed her hand and said, “Help me check on someone. I’m getting ready to divorce Ethan.”

“Are you sure it’s not a misunderstanding?”

We stood on the second-floor balcony of my villa, watching Ethan wave at me before getting into his car and heading to the office.

In my hand, I held a bouquet of fresh white lilies.

Sophia leaned in, inhaled their fragrance, and sighed. “He really hasn’t missed a single day.”

“Eight years, every day a different bouquet.”

“Honestly, I’ve never seen a man more romantic after marriage than him.”

I lowered my gaze and plucked a petal. “But for the past month, it’s only been lilies.”

“Sophia, you know what? That day he suddenly said I looked pale.”

“Put the two things together, and it feels… off.”

I was someone who thrived on novelty—Ethan knew that better than anyone.

That’s why he always took me to different countries, and why he paid so much attention to the flowers he sent every day.

He even spent three months abroad learning floral arrangement.

Even my parents would sigh, “Ethan really does spoil you to the heavens.”

But they also knew—I deserved it.

When I was eighteen, the Brooks family was in chaos.

The patriarch passed away, the will hadn’t been found, and the siblings fought ruthlessly among themselves.

Ethan nearly lost his life the night before his college entrance exam. I was the one who stepped in front of him and took that fatal blow.

I lay in a hospital bed for six months because of it, and in return, Ethan swore to me: “For life, for eternity, just the two of us.”

The scar on my back still ached whenever it rained.

The man who once stood at my hospital bed, eyes red with tears, promising to love me forever—

was now thoughtless enough to send me the same flowers for a whole month.

At first, I told myself he was just busy, overworked, that it was a mistake.

But now I wondered—was it really because of work?

Or… was it because another woman liked lilies?

At noon, Ethan called me on video as usual.

“Wife, I had six meetings today, I’m exhausted.”

“I don’t want to work anymore. I just want to come home and cuddle you.”

I didn’t say anything. That morning’s lilies were lying carelessly on the floor.

After eight years together, Ethan quickly noticed something was wrong.

“What’s wrong, wife? Wasn’t Hawaii fun enough? Or was today’s show not entertaining?”

I glanced at the time—1:30. On his desk, I saw some half-eaten Chinese takeout.

His mouth was still full, probably starving,

yet he immediately set down his chopsticks, noticing the flowers on the floor. His tone softened.

“Wife, did you not like today’s bouquet?”

“Oh, wait—are you upset because it’s been too many lilies lately?”

My expression shifted. I hadn’t expected him to notice so quickly.

So I cut straight to the point: “Yes. You know I like variety. Why have you been sending me lilies for a whole month?”

He slapped his forehead, frustrated. “Damn it, that’s my fault. Wife, the florist I usually order from had shipping problems.

I had to switch to another supplier, and they only specialize in lilies.

It’s my fault, I didn’t explain. I must’ve made you feel awful this month.”

He shoved aside his takeout and started typing furiously. “I’ll call them right now and ask if the shipment’s back!”

Just like countless times before, whenever it came to me, he panicked and rushed to fix it immediately.

I interrupted him. “Don’t. Just eat. Don’t starve yourself.”

Even Sophia, standing beside me, waggled her brows and muttered in English, “See? You wronged your good husband.”

Ethan smiled again. “So you’re not mad anymore, wife? Don’t worry, I already ordered from a new shop today. You’ll love it!”

After the call ended, the doorbell rang. Ding dong.

It was a massive bouquet of pink peonies.

Utterly dreamy.

I smiled as I accepted it—but then I saw the card.

And froze.

To the beautiful Ms. Adams, please don’t be mad.

But my last name was Carter.

The warmth of his video call still lingered in my ears.

Yet the icy words “Ms. Adams” on that card cut through my reason like a knife.

Ethan had never made such a mistake.

Carter and Adams weren’t even remotely similar.

This wasn’t a slip of the pen.

Sophia’s teasing expression vanished. She picked up the card, face grim. “What’s your name saved as in his phone?”

“Baby,” I said hoarsely, my voice like sandpaper. “Or wife.”

Never once—Ms. Adams.

“Let’s go.” Sophia snatched her car keys. “Didn’t he say he had outside work this afternoon? Let’s follow him.”

We waited in the parking lot until three o’clock before Ethan finally drove out.

He was alone—not work-related.

The black Cadillac slid through the bustling city streets and, shockingly, pulled into the entrance of an old, noisy farmer’s market.

The ground was wet, the air pungent with mixed smells.

Ethan, dressed in his sharp suit, looked completely out of place.

“What’s he doing here?” Sophia whispered, parking in the corner.

We followed from a distance through the crowd.

Ethan walked straight to a seafood stall, his steps determined.

The vendor was a woman, wearing a waterproof apron, scraping fish scales.

Her hair was tied up, revealing a delicate neck, her side profile striking even under the harsh lights.

Ethan stopped in front of her, silently staring.

The woman didn’t look up, her hands continuing steadily as if he weren’t there.

The tension was heavy—not like a transaction, more like a standoff.

Suddenly, she slammed the knife down with a loud clang, breaking the silence.

She lifted her head, her honey-toned face etched with defiance and disdain. She muttered something under her breath.

Ethan’s face darkened.

She tore off her apron and darted into a narrow alley behind the stall, like fleeing from a predator.

Ethan immediately chased after her.

“Let’s go!” Sophia grabbed me, and we melted into the crowd, following quietly.

In the dark alley, piled with baskets and trash,

we hid around the corner and saw Ethan slam the woman against the wall, his movements rough.

“Hiding from me? Where do you think you can run?”

The woman struggled with all her strength but couldn’t break free. “Ethan Brooks! Let me go! Haven’t you had enough?”

“Had enough? I should be asking what the hell you want from me!”

Ethan’s arm tightened around her, his body pressing in, his voice harsh. “I send you flowers, you throw them away. I give you money, you reject it. Now you won’t even see me?”

“Why should I want anything from you? What are we, really?” she shot back, her tone biting with sarcasm.

“What are we?” Ethan roared, gripping her chin hard.

His fierce gaze, the same one he’d given me in Hawaii by the pool, overlapped in my mind.

“I’ll tell you what we are.”

He crushed his lips down on hers.

The woman whimpered, pounding against his chest.

I stood frozen, my blood turned to ice, fingers numb.

The sweet whisper—You know I don’t care about anyone else—still echoed in my ears.

But here he was, using that same kiss as punishment on another woman.

Ethan finally released her, his thumb roughly brushing her swollen lips. His voice was hoarse.

“Don’t look at me like that. And stop running.”

He straightened his suit and walked away, as if his loss of control had never happened.

The woman collapsed to the ground, face buried in her knees, shoulders trembling.

Sophia and I slipped quietly out of the alley.

Back in the car, we sat in silence.

Outside, the sun shone brightly over the market—

but it couldn’t reach the ice inside my chest.

Sophia tapped quickly on her phone.

Minutes later, she gasped and shoved the screen toward me—

An old photo, the same woman, dressed in a plain black dress, standing beside a memorial portrait.

Her face was unmistakable.

Sophia’s voice trembled. “I found her. That’s Rachel Adams—Ethan’s widowed sister-in-law.”

Before I could even process the revelation, Ethan left town again on another business trip.

Meanwhile, Sophia texted me: Rachel’s fish stall didn’t open today.

She soon discovered where they had gone—

San Diego Zoo.

The name alone sent a shiver through me.

I’d always loved animals, but my allergies to cats and dogs meant I could never have pets.

I used to cuddle Ethan and say, “I heard the animals at San Diego Zoo are so well cared for. Can we go sometime?”

And though he’d always indulged me, that time he refused:

“You’re too old for that, baby. When we have a child, the three of us can go together.”

When Sophia and I finally arrived at the zoo,

I saw Ethan holding the hand of a little boy—while Rachel Adams walked on the other side.

So this was his “family of three.”

A role I thought was meant for me… had already been given away.

Beside me, Sophia seethed.

“I can’t believe this! What does he even see in her? That she’s older and ‘experienced’? That she already has a kid so he can play dad with no effort?”

“What a shameless woman! If it hadn’t been for you, he’d have been dead years ago!”

But I couldn’t hear a word. My eyes were locked on the three of them.

Ethan and Rachel each held the boy’s hand.

Soon the child ran off to the trampoline play area,

leaving the two of them on a bench together.

Hidden in the crowd, Sophia and I clearly heard their conversation.

Rachel sighed. “Ethan, you don’t need to do this. You have a wife.”

“Daniel is Daniel. You are you.”

Daniel Brooks—Ethan’s closest older brother.

Ethan’s voice was flat. “Daniel’s death was partly my fault. Rachel… this is what I owe you.”