I used to be so certain he loved me.

He remembered my cramps came every month and always had ginger tea ready before I even asked. He knew I was afraid of the dark and never forgot to leave the nightlight on. No matter how late his business dinners ran, as long as he was sober enough to type, he'd send me a goodnight text. His plans for the future always included me. He'd even picked out names for our children.

But when I thought about that diary in the drawer, the certainty crumbled.

I'd come home that afternoon and couldn't resist any longer. I opened the drawer.

Beneath the yellowed photograph was a journal.

"April 3, 2017. Lena said she's like my shadow—wherever there's light, we'll never be apart. She's always afraid the light will go out and I won't be able to find her. How could that happen? She's taken root inside my heart. The only way to lose her would be to cut the heart out entirely."

"May 20, 2017. Lena gave me a photo of us together. She said we'd never be separated."

"August 15, 2017. Her mother's condition worsened. She cried so hard she couldn't breathe. I wanted to fly to her side, but I couldn't get time off during my internship. I wired her money. She sent it back. She said, 'Curtis, what we have shouldn't be tainted by money.'"

"October 22, 2017. She's decided to take a leave of absence and go home to care for her mother. She smiled at me through the glass, but it looked worse than crying. She told me to live well—her share too. But Lena, without you, how am I supposed to live at all?"

"January 3, 2018. She's busy. I can never reach her. It feels like the tide going out, and I can't hold on to anything."

"June 9, 2018. Lost contact completely. She deleted all her social media accounts. Her phone number is disconnected. Vanished without a trace. Lena, you're cruel."

The last page of the journal.

"June 30, 2018. Met a girl today. Her smile looks just like yours. Her name is Willow Sullivan, and her birthday is even the same day as yours. If that isn't fate, what is?"

Nothing after that.

Curtis stared at me for a long time.

Then he smiled, indulgent, as though I were a child throwing a tantrum.

"Come on, stop this. I know I shouldn't have left you on the side of the road today."

"But Lena was hurt. I had to take her to the hospital."

"I've already sent the car to the shop. It'll be good as new, I promise. Can you stop being upset now?"

A car could be fixed.

But a shattered heart—how do you fix that?

Tears spilled before I could stop them.

He didn't soften the way he used to. No tenderness, no concern. He paced in front of me, visibly irritated.

"Willow, can you stop being so unreasonable for once?"

"You can check my phone. You can look through my bank statements. What more do you want from me?"

"Lena has no parents. She's completely alone in this world. I'm not asking you to feel what she feels, but can't you show a shred of compassion?"

My chest locked up. I opened my mouth.

I wanted to tell him I was alone in this world now too.

I wanted to tell him I was the one who was hurt.

But in the end, all I wanted was to run.

The moment my feet hit the floor, a searing pain shot through me and I crumpled to the ground.

Curtis sighed, bent down, and carried me back to the bed.

I turned away, refusing to look at him. He grabbed my shoulders and forced me to face him.

"Willow, we promised each other we'd never go to bed angry. What exactly are you so upset about?"

When I still didn't answer, he leaned down and pressed his mouth hard against mine.

Back when things were good between us, he used to say there was nothing a night together couldn't fix.

My mother had been buried today. And he wanted—

Nausea surged through me. I shoved him off and slapped him across the face.

"Get out!"

Curtis ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. His patience finally snapped.

"Fine. Just don't come crawling back to me on your knees!"

That was one of only two fights we had in six years.

The first was during our second year together, when I insisted he take me along to visit his family's graves on Memorial Day.

"Willow, I'm with you three hundred and sixty-four days a year. Can't I have one day to myself?"

We didn't speak for three months after that.

I was heartbroken, miserable, drifting through my days in a fog. One afternoon I missed a step on a staircase.

The tiny life I hadn't even known about yet was gone, just like that.

Curtis rushed to the hospital the moment he heard. He stayed up all night, tending to me with a gentleness I'd never seen before.

Neither of us mentioned what had happened that day. It was an unspoken pact.

And every Memorial Day after that, I knew better than to ask.

The cold war stretched all the way to my birthday, when Curtis appeared in front of me holding a bouquet of red roses.

"Willow, let's get married."

An old movie was playing on the TV behind us. The leads were kissing goodbye in the rain. It was his favorite film. We'd watched it together at least ten times.

When I didn't answer, he wrapped his arms around me from behind and pressed his chin against my shoulder. His voice was rough.

"I've been thinking about this for a long time. I always told myself I needed to give you the best of everything first."

"But now I just want to build a home with you. I want to wake up every morning and see your face."

I felt nothing. Not a ripple.

"Curtis, are you truly over Lena?"

A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, there and gone.

He cradled my face in both hands, pressing his forehead to mine.

"Willow, let the past stay in the past. Trust me."

On the surface, things went back to the way they'd been.

But I was the only one who knew there was no going back. I was just giving myself time to say goodbye in silence.

Curtis threw himself into wedding planning with infectious enthusiasm, browsing gowns and rings, consulting event planners.

I watched it all from behind a pane of frosted glass, like a silent film that had nothing to do with me.

His excitement and anticipation seemed genuine enough, yet none of it stirred even a spark of hope in my chest.

Then came the night of the proposal.

Curtis wore a tailored suit. He lowered himself onto one knee.

Before a single word left his mouth, he saw Lena clap a hand over her mouth and storm out, slamming the door behind her.

He looked at me, guilt already flooding his face, and moved to go after her.

I grabbed his hand. All I wanted was to hold on to one last scrap of dignity.

"Can you at least wait until this is over?"

Curtis froze for a second. Then, one by one, he pried my fingers loose and walked out without looking back.

I was left standing there, alone, surrounded by the pitying stares and barely concealed smirks of every friend in the room.

Like a glutton for punishment, I followed.

He caught up to Lena outside and pulled her back by the arm.

Their eyes locked. The moment he saw how red and swollen hers were, Curtis caved first.

"You had a boyfriend that day. You turned me down on your own birthday. What's there to be upset about now?"

Lena pounded her fists against his chest.

"You jerk. Curtis Fox, you're such a jerk!"

Then she threw herself into his arms and sobbed harder.

"I'm sick. I didn't want to drag you down with me. I thought I was strong enough to let go, but I can't stop thinking about you. What am I supposed to do?"

"Curtis, watching you marry another woman is killing me."

"Curtis, I love you. Every single day since we parted, I have never stopped loving you."

Tears streaked her face like rain on pear blossoms as she tilted her chin up, rose onto her toes, and brought her lips to his.

Every muscle in Curtis's body went rigid. The veins on the backs of his hands stood out like cords.

Then he shoved her against the wall and kissed her back, hard.

"Lena, I love you too."

The most devastating love confession two reunited hearts could share.

I walked toward them, one slow step at a time.

Lena saw me first. She straightened, composed herself.

Curtis followed her gaze, and the color drained from his face.

"Willow, let me explain—"

I stood perfectly still, perfectly quiet. And he couldn't get out another word.

The standoff drew attention fast. Passersby slowed, heads turning, a crowd thickening around us like blood pooling at a wound.

Lena stepped forward, every inch the picture of heartbreak. Her eyes glistened. Her voice trembled. She looked like a woman who had swallowed every ounce of her pride just to stand there.

"Miss Sullivan, I'm begging you. Please give Curtis back to me."

"Curtis and I are truly in love. If you hadn't come between us, we would already be married."

"I've been diagnosed with a terminal illness. The doctors say I have one year left." Her voice cracked, perfectly timed. "All I want is to spend whatever time I have with the man I love. I don't want to die with regrets."

"Please. I'm begging you."

The crowd ate it up. Sympathy spread like wildfire, and every ounce of it turned into venom aimed at me.

"She's the other woman and she's making the real girlfriend kneel? The audacity!"

"Someone find out who she is. Shameless homewrecker. Didn't your mother teach you any decency?"

The insults multiplied, voices overlapping, growing louder.

I was the victim. I had always been the victim. And now, in the span of sixty seconds, I had become the villain.

I stared straight at Curtis, waiting for him to say something. To correct this. To tell the truth.

"Willow, stop making a scene. I'll explain everything later."

I hadn't said a single word. Not one. And somehow, in his eyes, I was the one causing trouble.

A bitter laugh escaped me. My hand shot up before I could think.

But Lena moved faster. She stepped right into the path of my palm, and the slap landed squarely across her cheek.

She staggered, the left side of her face already swelling red.

Curtis lunged forward. Without hesitation, without even looking at me, he shoved me to the ground. His eyes were ice.

"You're the bastard child of a homewrecker. What gives you the right to lay a hand on anyone?"

Lena lifted her chin, triumph barely concealed behind her wounded expression.

"Your mother was the other woman. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it? And now here you are, trying to steal my Curtis."

"Oh, wait. I almost forgot." She tilted her head, feigning surprise. "Didn't I hear that you seduced your own stepbrother when you were just a girl? How depraved."

My entire body shook. I turned to Curtis, searching his face for something. Shock. Denial. Anything.

There was nothing.

My mother had been drugged by a factory owner when she was young. That was how she got pregnant with me. She carried the label of homewrecker for years, a lie branded onto her by people who never cared to learn the truth. None of it stopped her from pouring every last drop of herself into loving me.

When money ran out, she remarried so we could survive. She had no way of knowing that her new stepson was a monster wearing a human face. The moment she left the house, he forced himself on me.

I had told Curtis all of this. Every detail. When we first started dating, I laid myself bare because I believed that real love meant no secrets. I told him how much I despised the very concept of being the other woman, and why.

I never imagined that the honesty I'd offered out of love would become a blade. A boomerang sharpened with my own confessions, hurled back to bury itself in my chest.

They weren't just destroying me. They were dragging my dead mother through the mud.

Something inside me snapped. The pain didn't disappear. It transformed. Every shred of heartbreak hardened into white-hot fury.

I walked up to Curtis and slapped him across the face with everything I had.

"Curtis Fox. You got what you wanted. We're done."

"I hope you never regret this. And don't you dare come looking for me."

"Because I will never forgive you."