I woke up in the middle of the night to find two messages on my phone. The man who had just lulled me to sleep had gone to another woman's bed: [Mrs. Hemsworth, your husband is amazing in bed.]

The next day, I bought myself a bionic robot.

"Miss Bosch, are you sure you want to upload all your data?" the lab staff asked me. "The bionic robot will completely replace your life and you will lose your current identity."

That was exactly what I wanted. Once the data upload was complete, I would leave Nick forever.

——

The staff said again, "Please sign here. Once the data upload is complete, we'll notify you to activate the bionic robot."

After signing the final document, I received a message from Nick: [Helen, where are you? I have a gift for you.]

I glanced at the calendar. Today marked our sixth wedding anniversary. Nick took me to the seaside. The gift was a yacht. Hundreds of drones flew in front of us, forming various shapes. Eventually, they settled into a giant heart.

Behind me, Nick wrapped his arms around me and whispered softly into my ear, "Do you remember? This was how I proposed to you. I still recall how fast my heart was beating then, afraid you'd say no. Six years have flown by in the blink of an eye and my heart still beats for you. I'm so glad you're still by my side. Do you like this gift?"

I forced a smile. If I didn't know he had another woman, I would have loved it. But now, this gift was like chocolate tainted with mud, utterly nauseating.

As the sky darkened, Nick didn't notice my indifference. He spoke joyfully, "Helen, how about going out to sea with me?"

He reached out to hold my hand and on his wrist was a watch paired with a mismatched red diamond bracelet.

Years ago, when he was just starting his career, I had bought that bracelet for him. Back then, times were tough, but our love was unwavering. Climbing a mountain with a thousand steps was nothing to me.

When he learned how difficult it was to obtain the bracelet, he pulled me into his arms and gently stroked my reddened knees, "Don't do anything that makes me worry about you again. With your love, Helen, I can conquer anything."

Later, as his career flourished, he swapped out one expensive watch after another, but he never removed that red diamond bracelet.

When people asked why Mr. Hemsworth still wore a bracelet worth only a million, he would reply with pride and affection, "My wife bought for this for me. I'll wear it for life."

Seeing that bracelet again, I felt a pang of disorientation. To outsiders and to me, he had always seemed like the perfect husband.

Everyone said Mr. Nick Hemsworth was a shining example of a loving spouse whose success was rooted in his devotion to his wife.

Back then, I believed it too. I believed he loved me as deeply as ever. Until a few days ago, when I uncovered his hidden chat history.

The other party's avatar was set as "File Transfer Assistant," pinned at the top but muted. The last message read, "Today's work report - Yvonne.xlsx." Perhaps guided by a woman's intuition, I opened it.

Within the seemingly proper spreadsheet were countless seductive photos of the woman, utterly indecent.

Scrolling further up, I saw they had been in constant contact, with so many messages that it was hard to pinpoint when it all began.

During his recent overseas business trip, he had said to me, "Helen, I'm too busy these days. I might not be able to reply to your messages promptly." True to his word, he didn't reply to even one.

But on those same dates, he was receiving this woman's daily 'work reports' and having hour-long video calls with her.

The sound of running water from the bathroom stopped. I put down his phone and used the blanket to wipe away the dampness from the corners of my eyes.

A warm body, carrying the scent of cedarwood, approached. His deep, gentle voice sounded by my ear, "Helen, you're still awake? Were you waiting for me to tell you a bedtime story?"

I was an orphan. When we met in our youth, I once envied other children who had parents to tell them bedtime stories. I didn't have that.

At that time, he held me gently with a heartbroken expression and promised, "From now on, I'll tell you a story every day."

He kept his promise. As long as he wasn't on a business trip, I would fall asleep each night to his stories. Listening to his tender voice now, a subtle ache spread through my heart.

If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed that the perfect husband before me was secretly keeping a mistress. Perhaps because of the turmoil in my heart, I didn't sleep well that night.

When I woke up in the middle of the night, he wasn't there. I reached out to feel the bed beside me, it was cold.

The phone screen lit up. I clicked it open. A message from the same account as before had arrived, again with a picture and a message.

The photo showed a man's sleeping profile, with a few scratches from a woman's nails on his exposed shoulder.

[Mrs. Hemsworth, I heard today is your wedding anniversary? But I wanted Nick to come to me and he did. He knows it makes me happy.]

[I heard he gave you a yacht? I'm so jealous. But he gave me a private island, haha.]

I turned off my phone and took a deep breath. My pillow was slightly damp. I grabbed a new one and lay down again.

I dreamed of the past. When I was a child, I was abandoned by my parents and raised myself with social aid and scholarships. In high school, I met Nick. He was a vibrant young man, completely different from me.

I was always quiet and reserved, the burdens of life and my past made me unwilling to interact with others. But back then, Nick was like a blazing sun, capable of melting any ice.

His allowance wasn't much, yet he'd rather go hungry than give me most of his money to make sure I had enough to eat.

Later, we got into college. Holding his acceptance letter, Nick came running to me and asked, "Helen, will you be my girlfriend? If you don't want to now, that's okay. I'll wait for you anytime." Looking into his anxious eyes, I nodded.

Visibly relieved, his face lit up with joy. He picked me up and spun me around, nearly tossing his acceptance letter in the process.

At nineteen, Nick snuck out of the boys' dorm late at night to wait for me in the freezing wind. I dashed to him as fast as I could. Smiling, he took off his scarf and wrapped it around my neck.

But it was still cold. To see each other, neither of us wanted to wear bulky clothes. He grinned at me foolishly and said, "Helen, one day, I'll get you the warmest fabric. My Helen deserves the best."

He did fulfill that promise eventually, but he lost his sincerity along the way. In my dream, I asked him, "Nick, would you ever lie to me?"

Nick in my dream shook his head firmly. I asked again, "And what if, one day, you change? You deceive me and have another woman?"

Nineteen-year-old Nick hugged me tightly. "I won't. But if that day ever comes, never forgive him." I nodded. I wouldn't forgive him.

When I woke up again, Nick was already dressed and had prepared breakfast. His movements were calm, as if he hadn't left last night at all.

He said cheerfully, "Helen, today I'm taking you to see an active volcano."

This year, while watching a documentary, I casually mentioned something and Nick remembered it.

He said, "The team over there said it's predicted to be relatively safe these days. I've already arranged everything, Helen, just follow me."

After breakfast, he had already packed my luggage. Anyone would praise him as the perfect family man.

I once dreamed of watching the Earth's pulse with Nick, sharing every moment worth remembering. Now, he was still with me, but his heart was with another woman.

He kept glancing at his phone, a look of unmistakable tenderness on his face.

I glanced over and asked, "What are you looking at?" I thought he would panic, that he would explain.

But he calmly handed me his phone without hesitation. "I've adopted a shark. I was just checking its location."

I lowered my gaze and saw a cartoon shark icon with the name 'Yvonne' on its head, along with longitude and latitude coordinates in the corner.

He appeared composed. If I hadn't seen the chat interface reflected in his glasses earlier, I might have believed him. Nick, you lied to me again.

I handed his phone back and casually asked, "Why did you name it Yvonne?" That woman's name was Yvonne Chadwick and he called her Yvonne.

Nick's pupils contracted as he carefully studied my expression. Seeing no change in my demeanor, he let out a subtle sigh of relief, "When I first adopted it, it liked swimming south, so I gave it that name."

I kept ask, "When did you adopt it?"

"Three or four months ago," he answered. So, it had already been that long.

He clearly didn't want to dwell on the topic. "If you are interested, I can help you adopt one too. Watching it occasionally is quite stress-relieving."

Stress-relieving, was that his excuse for keeping another woman? I didn't respond to him. Turning away, I couldn't help but bend over slightly.

He was quick to support me, asking nervously, "Helen, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell? Should I carry you?"

There was still some distance to the volcano. Swallowing the nausea that surged up, I shook my head and said, "The path is rough, don't carry me."

He reached out to hold my hand, but I quickened my pace and walked ahead to a spot closer to the volcano.

At the moment when the magma erupted, it felt as though my heart resonated with the planet. As the scorching heat enveloped me, the sour pain in my heart seemed to evaporate.

Amid the roaring sounds, I thought I heard someone shouting my name. At some point, Nick had come to my side. He held me tightly, leaning in as if to kiss me.

I dodged and he asked, hurt, "Why did you avoid me? Didn't you want a photo in front of the volcano?" He remembered my joking remark about kissing in front of a volcano.

At the time, I had just finished watching a movie and was struck by how the protagonists' love was as pure and intense as magma. He had kissed me then, saying with a smile, "Just like us."

But he hadn't remembered what I said after, "If love isn't pure, then it has no reason to exist."

Before being abandoned by my parents, I had experienced pure love, too. But over time, that love became mixed with other complexities. Like sugar tainted with shards of glass, sweet, but bloody.

"I'm just tired. I zoned out for a moment," I replied perfunctorily.

His phone rang and he became busy replying to messages, not noticing anything unusual about me. I whispered softly, "Nick, I'm tired. Let's go back."

Nick looked up and I caught the faint reflection in his glasses, it was a picture of a woman.

He hesitated, as if weighing something in his mind. After a moment, he finally said, "Helen, one of my business partners happens to be here. Could you head back first?"