“Are you certain you want to fake your death?” The voice on the other end of the phone was cold.

“Yes.” My answer came without hesitation.

Then I paused.

“I have one condition,” I added quietly. “The one responsible for my death must be Sheldon Carter, my husband.”

“That is… an extreme request, Ma’am,” the man said at last.

“Just do what I say. Payment will not be an issue.”

I ended the call.

As I lowered my phone, my gaze drifted to the painting on the living room wall—the first one my daughter, Lizzie Carter, had ever made.

She painted three figures holding hands, looking like a loving family.

Yet the longer I stared, the more my breath tightened. The woman in the painting didn’t look like me.

She looked like Stacey Middleton, my husband’s first love.

My chest constricted painfully.

I thought of our wedding day. Sheldon had been so nervous until his hands trembled, nearly dropping the ring.

Leaning close, he whispered, breathless and earnest, “I promise I’ll always be with you.”

When Lizzie was born, he cried harder than I did.

Holding my shaking body, he kissed my forehead and said hoarsely, “One child is enough, I can’t watch you suffer again, Reba.”

Every anniversary, flowers never failed to arrive. Gifts followed.

Lizzie would throw herself into my arms, laughing, “Mommy, I want a family just like you and Daddy when I grow up.”

We had been perfect, or so I believed.

Everything changed the day Stacey returned from England—with her illegitimate son, Diego Middleton.

She signed a sponsorship contract with Sheldon’s company, chose Hollywood, and quietly walked back into his life.

Who would have thought that for two entire years, my husband and daughter had been worshipping another woman behind my back?

Sheldon claimed he was busy with meetings. In truth, he was warming someone else’s bed.

Lizzie began calling Stacey “second mommy,” and Diego “brother.” by saying, “It would be so nice if they lived with us.”

Each word pierced deeper than betrayal.

I never imagined that my five-year marriage—once envied by all—would become proof of the curse people whispered about behind my back.

So, I made my decision just as quietly.

“If loyalty no longer exists, then I’ll leave him with guilt,” I whispered into the silence, my voice breaking.

I would disappear, faking my death.

Let Sheldon keep the woman he never stopped loving. Let Lizzie grow beside the woman she already adored.

I would leave them the family they wanted, and bury my heartbreak in the grave they believed was mine.

Months after my burial, they learned who truly loved them. And Stacey, she only took advantage of them.

Regret always comes last, and karma is real, Sheldon Carter!

***

As I turned on the television, an award ceremony filled the screen.

Stacey stood on stage, radiant, smiling as Hollywood’s Best Newcomer Actress at the Global Actress Award ceremony.

What shocked me was that she was not alone. She came with my husband—the man who was supposed to be in a meeting.

Sheldon held Stacey’s hand. Lizzie and Diego followed arm in arm behind them.

They were smiling like a family meant to be. All because Stacey was under Carter Group’s sponsorship.

But tonight was our fifth wedding anniversary. The night that I had prepared carefully.

The dishes, the table, the candle, it was all perfect, except for one. People.

I waited until night swallowed the house and the food turned cold only to receive a cold message, [Urgent business trip. Lizzie with me.]

Nothing else.

In the end, they never came, which made me understand that they had already chosen to forget me without hesitation.

Eyes for eyes, ears for ears.

If they easily left me, then I would leave them also.

“Are you certain you want to fake your death?” The voice on the other end of the phone was cold.

“Yes.” I answered without hesitation. “But I have one condition. The one responsible for my death must be Sheldon Carter, my husband.”

“I should leave him with guilt,” I added.

“That is… an extreme request, Ma’am,” the man said at last.

“Just do what I say. Payment will not be an issue.”

I ended the call and silently lifted the dishes, threw them into the trash. Then I turned the family painting upside down, walked out of the room, and never looked back.

Upstairs, memories trailed behind me like shadows.

Every day, Lizzie used to bring me her little treasures—leaves picked up from the roadside, clumsy crafts from school, colorful stickers she saved carefully just for me. She would press them into my hands as if they were priceless.

Then everything shifted.

I forbade her from eating too many sweets, afraid her tooth decay would worsen. Such a small thing.

Yet from that moment, distance quietly grew. Her smiles faded. Her steps no longer rushed toward me.

As I packed my belongings, the weight of it all finally crushed my chest.

I had met Sheldon eight years ago—as his psychiatrist.

Back then, he was struggling with depression. After his father began pushing more responsibilities onto him at the company, his condition worsened.

He even suffered from sociophobia. Before meetings, his entire body would tremble, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

When he first met me, Sheldon was calm, distant, composed. To him, I was just a doctor—someone meant to fix him.

Three years passed like that.

Then one day, without warning, he proposed.

“I can’t live without you anymore,” he said, eyes red, voice unsteady. “I need you by my side.”

His family welcomed me warmly. They approved of us, celebrated us. In the end, we got married.

Sheldon often spoke of his dream—to have many children. He loved them deeply.

“Children are pure,” he once said softly. “Not like the adults at the company. They smile at you while stabbing you in the back.”

I agreed. I liked children too.

But fate had other plans.

My first pregnancy was high-risk. Giving birth was a battle between life and death. When it was over, the doctor forbade me from ever getting pregnant again.

I saw the disappointment in Sheldon’s eyes. He tried to hide it, but I saw it.

Still, he held my hand and promised, again and again, “No matter what happens, I’ll always love you. Your health matters most. We already have Lizzie.”

I believed him until two years ago, the day when everything changed as Stacey returned a month after his father passed away.

He began praising her. Sometimes, he praised her son too—how clever he was, how well-behaved.

Lizzie even started saying she wanted siblings.

Until I finally understood, they had already chosen Stacey. And in their hearts, she had quietly replaced me.

So, when morning came, I handed the package to the courier.

“Send it to Apartment 1004,” I said calmly. “The recipient is Stacey Middleton. Make sure it arrives a week from now.”

I paused, lips curving faintly. “Tell her she may enjoy the pair of husband and daughter. I’m throwing out a worthless pair.”

“What pair are you throwing away?” a man's voice asked behind me.

Panic consumed me as I saw Sheldon and Lizzie were already behind me.

The courier accepted the package. I met his eyes briefly, “Leave now.”

As the door closed, I answered lightly, “Nothing. Just decluttering.”

Sheldon frowned. “You should leave that to the maid. Don’t tire yourself.”

“I’m not made of glass,” I replied evenly. “This won’t break me.”

He sighed. “Always stubborn. Fine—leave it to me if you don’t trust the maid. Oh, right.”

He nudged Lizzie forward.

My daughter held out a flower bouquet she brought.

“Mommy must’ve felt lonely last night,” Lizzie said softly. “When we got home, I saw this flower and thought of you. Do you like it, Mom?”

Her eyes were full of apologies.

Then Sheldon stepped closer and opened a box.

“I didn’t mean to miss our anniversary,” he said earnestly. “It was an urgent business trip.”

He held up the diamond ring. “This is my apology. If it’s not enough, say the word. I’ll buy you anything.”

The diamond caught the light, painfully bright.

“I rushed back the moment I was done,” he added. “Let’s reschedule the anniversary next week—on your birthday.”

I looked at the flower in Lizzie’s hand. Then at the ring.

My heart was silent.

How strange—how love always arrived late, carrying apologies instead of presence.

Our wedding had been a week before my birthday.

From Sheldon’s secretary, I knew he was preparing a new product named after me as a birthday gift.

I was close to her. She liked telling me everything. Sheldon never knew.

That was how I learned the truth, if his meetings and business trips were all lies.

What hurt me so bad was even Lizzie defended him.

“Dad is super busy,” she once said earnestly. “After picking me up from school, he didn’t even take me home. He had to bring me out of town.”

I studied Sheldon’s face now. Calm and spotless of guilt.

I smiled gently.

As for rescheduling the anniversary—I didn’t care. By next week, we would no longer be a family.

“It’s fine,” I said softly. “Thank you for the gift. Let’s go inside. Lizzie is freezing.”

In the past, I would’ve wrapped Lizzie in warm clothes and hugged Sheldon the moment he came home.

This time, I didn’t.

It was only an excuse—to change the subject, to stop myself from remembering last night’s betrayal.

When we entered the house, both Sheldon and Lizzie froze.

The place was almost empty.

I loved ceramics. Every corner had once held one. Now, the tables were bare.

Most striking of all—the family painting lay turned over on the floor.

Sheldon frowned. “Why are the ceramics gone?”

Lizzie ran over. “And why did you take down my painting, Mom?”

“Oh,” I said casually. “I sold the ceramics to a collector. I wanted to declutter and replace them. The painting was worn out too.”

Relief flashed across Sheldon’s face. He thought I knew nothing.

He pinched Lizzie’s cheek. “Don’t worry. You can paint a new one, baby. Remember—clear away the old to welcome the new.”

Lizzie beamed. “Okay! I’ll make lots of new ones!”

I watched them quietly, mockery settling deep in my eyes.

Welcome the new one, huh?

Did it mean they would clear away the old mother and welcome a new woman?

What a tragic story.

As we walked inside, the smell of food still lingered in the house. Sheldon followed it until he found that the prepared meal lay discarded in the trash bin.

“Did you cook dinner last night?” he asked in curiosity.

“Oh,” I replied lightly. “It’s been a while since I cooked. It tasted awful, so I threw it away.”

He frowned. “You’re tiring yourself again. You could’ve asked the chef to cook for us. Don’t do this anymore, alright?”

He reached out and patted my head, the gesture gentle and distant.

Lizzie ran over and hugged my waist. “Yes, Mom. Your health matters most. I want Mommy to see me get married someday.”

My heart tightened, but my smile didn’t falter.

“Alright,” I said softly. “Go take a bath. You both stink so much I might throw up.”

I brushed them off and walked into the bedroom.

The moment the door closed, my phone vibrated.

A message from Stacey.

I opened it.

A photo of the four of them together smiling beneath the same flower bouquet Lizzie had just given me.

Another photo, taken at my favorite restaurant.

And the last one was an opened diamond set, the one I was clearly familiar with.

Then came another message from Stacey, [There are two rings in the set, so I gave one to you. I assume Sheldon made it as your anniversary gift, right?]

The words pierced my chest.

So everything Sheldon and Lizzie gave me was never meant to be mine alone. It was Stacey’s excess.

I stared at the screen, fingers trembling. Had I really been foolish enough to believe I was treasured?

I thought his love was genuine, I never knew that Sheldon already had a first love back in high school. A girl he could never forget.

A girl who left after graduation and came back years later to destroy everything I believed in.

From the very beginning, my place had never been the first.

I lowered my phone and laughed soundlessly while packing my things.

In the evening, the door opened, Sheldon and Lizzie insisted on sleeping beside me.

“The anniversary isn’t about the date,” Sheldon said gently. “It’s about celebrating. Don’t overthink it, okay?”

Lizzie hugged my arm tightly. “We celebrate every year anyway. Mommy, don’t be sad about last night. Today, Lizzie will sleep with Mommy and Daddy.”

I didn’t answer. I was afraid that if I spoke, I would cry.

Soon, Lizzie’s breathing softened in my arms. But I remained awake.

Then Sheldon’s phone vibrated. A message from Stacey. [Come, Diego has been sleeping.]

Later, a photo filled the screen, it was Stacey in red lingerie. [I prepared this just for you.]

My fingers clenched beneath the blanket.

As Sheldon glanced to the side, I pretended to be asleep, closing my eyes.

Perhaps because there was no reply, a video call came through.

Stacey’s face appeared, lips curved in a teasing smile. Slowly, deliberately, she began untying the lingerie.

As an actress, she was really great at making expressions, even her gestures were so intoxicating.

Sheldon swallowed hard.

He rose from the bed, movements careful, silent—as if no one would notice.

But as he reached for the door, I asked quietly, “Where are you going?”

He froze for half a second. Then smiled.

“Urgent meeting,” he said softly. “I’ll be right back.”

He returned, kissed my forehead and left.

The door closed and something inside me died without a sound.

But the door closed too hard, so Lizzie stirred, half-awake, mumbling, “Ah… Dad snuck out to meet my second mommy again. Next time, I’ll follow him and play with Diego too.”

I froze. “What did you say, darling?”

She realized her mistake instantly and hugged me tight.

“I mean—Daddy went to work again, late at night,” she said quickly. “Leaving you alone. But it’s okay, Mom. I’m here. You won’t be lonely.”

I didn’t hug her back, only pulled the blanket higher and turned away.

Moments later, from outside, the roar of Sheldon’s car engine cut through the night.

He was speeding.

Sheldon never came back that night. Nor the next morning.

At breakfast, I sat alone at the table. My phone’s chimed.

[I’ve instructed Judy to prepare warming chicken broth for you. Make sure to drink it. Let her take Lizzie to school. You should rest more and avoid tiring yourself.]

Every detail was arranged. The perfect image of a caring husband.

But that care only felt like salt rubbed into an open wound. Since I knew better, this care was nothing but guilt.

Every time Sheldon cheated, he buried me in attention—as if flowers and gentle words could erase the scent of another woman from his skin.

Those late-night messages always arrived at strange hours. Perhaps sent right after he finished with her—while buttoning his shirt, straightening his collar, and pretending to still be my husband.

I had not had time to close the message as the new email came.

Inside, attached a DNA Test file from the hospital.

My vision blurred as the document opened on my screen, [Diego Middleton is 99% compatible with Sheldon Carter.]

My hand trembled as a voice note followed. “I’m pregnant too. You lose this time. I can give Sheldon two children now. And I’ll have more if he wants.”

Before I could breathe, another line appeared. “Oh, I almost forgot. Even your daughter seems to love me more than you. Reba, what do you have left?”

The phone slipped from my fingers and suddenly I heard Lizzie laughing, as if laughing at my suffering.

So I descended the staircase and stopped as I saw her sit before the TV, stuffing her mouth with sweets I was never allowed to touch.

Only a few days had passed, yet her cheeks were already puffed from sugar.

When Lizzie saw me, she panicked, hiding the cream-filled pastry behind her back. Guilt was written all over her small face.

But I didn’t scold her.

Instead, I knelt down until they were eye to eye, studying the child who carried half of Sheldon’s blood.

“If your father and I separate,” I asked quietly, “would you be okay with Stacey raising you instead?”

Lizzie didn’t even process the first part. Her eyes lit up.

“Really?” she asked excitedly. “If Stacey comes to live with me, I will be happier if she brings Diego around, so that I can play more with him!”

My heart didn’t sink. It went numb on that innocent’s answer.

Of course, the child took after her father.

Seeing me about to leave, Lizzie hurried over and grabbed my hand instinctively. “Mommy, when will you take me to school? I’ll be late.”

I pulled her hand away, voice flat. “Judy will take you. I’m tired.”

“I want you, Mommy.” Lizzie’s eyes widened, pleading. “Please.”

“No,” I said coldly. “I’m tired.”

“I won’t be taking you to your full week courses anymore. From now on, you are free to do everything you want.”

Lizzie froze.

Confusion and hurt flickered across her face.

I had never said coldly to her before. She bit her lip, forcing back tears.

Judy sensed the tension and quietly ushered Lizzie out of the house.

I didn’t stop them.

I couldn’t. Not today.

In the afternoon, I went straight to the city center.

“Once you sign, there’s no turning back,” the agent said. “Five days from now, Reba Carter will cease to exist.”

I nodded.

My hand didn’t shake as I signed my name.

Then I removed the infinity bracelet from my wrist—the one thing I had never taken off.

“If I’m going to die,” I murmured, “make it convincing.”

That bracelet meant everything.

After Lizzie's birth, I had fallen into a coma. As soon as I woke up, he put me on a bracelet with an infinity charm as a wish that I would live longer with him.

His devotion had moved me so deeply that I vowed never to remove the bracelet. Not even in death.

And now, I was keeping that promise in the cruelest way possible.

As I walked out, whispers drifted from the front desk.

“They say Mr. Sheldon treats his wife like she’s his whole world. Yet she just signed up for a fake death service.”

“So even the most beautiful marriages rot behind closed doors.”

“I used to root for their love story. Turns out it was all a lie.”

I didn’t stay to hear more.

Maybe Sheldon had loved me once—during those five years. But his love always burned too fast… and died even faster.

Needing a distraction, I went to the mall.

To my surprise, I saw Lizzie and Diego—who should have been in school—playing in the playground inside the mall.

Not far from the scene, there were Sheldon and Stacey arms in arms and smiling at the kids. They looked like a perfect family.

For a moment, the world blurred.

Just like Sheldon wanted, having lots of kids and playing with them, enjoying time together. Something I could never give him.

Perhaps because I'd been standing there too long, Stacey noticed me.

“Reba?” Stacey gasped, covering her mouth as she clicked over in high heels. “Why are you here?”