I thought it was a surprise.

It turned out to be someone else's trash.

Zion opened the cake box, then the takeout container.

The cake was a ruin—a collapsed puddle of cream and mud-colored frosting. The food was worse: a chaotic mess of mixed dishes, a chicken drumstick gnawed to the bone, sushi pieces with bite marks in them.

One glance confirmed it. Leftovers from tonight's banquet.

A bitter taste flooded my mouth.

What exactly did I do wrong?

Am I only worthy of someone else's scraps? Is this the extent of his love for me?

Truly, he was "good" to me.

"Rose, this cake is delicious. Here, have a bite."

Zion scooped up a spoonful of the mangled dessert and held it to my lips.

Nausea roiled in my stomach at the sickly-sweet odor. I raised my head and met his eyes.

"I was working part-time at the Grand Light Hotel tonight. I already ate the staff meal."

I said it deliberately.

The Grand Light Hotel was exactly where his banquet had been held.

His hand jerked. The spoon clattered against the table, cream splattering the wood.

He scrambled to wipe the table, using the motion to mask his panic. A tight, unnatural smile stretched across his face. "Good that you've eaten, then."

I waited. I thought he would take this chance to explain. To tell me the truth.

But he didn't.

A hollow pit opened in my chest, swallowing whatever hope I had left.

When I remained silent, Zion let out a breath of relief. He pulled me into his arms.

"Rose."

"I missed you so much."

In the past, those words would have filled me with warmth. I would have hugged him back, soaking in his affection.

Tonight, I stood stiff as a board.

Then his hand slid inside my collar, fingers brushing against my scars.

A violent shudder ran through me. Revulsion rose like bile—visceral, physical. I shoved him away.

"Rose, what's wrong?"

He stood there, bewildered. He couldn't understand why his docile wife was acting so strange.

"Nothing. I'm just tired."

I shook my head, avoiding his gaze.

"You don't need to work part-time. Let me handle things. Besides, who knows? Maybe I'll buy a lottery ticket one day and hit the jackpot. Then we can live in comfort."

He smiled, his voice smooth.

He was already laying the groundwork for his next lie—explaining away his wealth as luck.

My lips parted, the urge to expose him burning my throat, but exhaustion pinned me down. It all felt pointless.

"I'll get hot water. Soak your feet," he said softly. "Rest well tonight. My vacation starts tomorrow, so I'll stay with you. We'll spend some real time together."

He played the role of the considerate husband perfectly. He carried me to bed and tucked me in.

From start to finish, I remained cold.

Middle of the night.

Sleep refused to come.

Suddenly, Zion rose from the bed. He dressed quickly and bolted out of the house.

I slipped out of bed and followed him into the darkness.

Outside, under the dim streetlights, the truth revealed itself. Lydia was here.

"Didn't we agree you wouldn't come here?"

He frowned, his voice hushed but urgent.

"I missed you."

She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. "You can't keep ignoring me for Rose, can you? I'm a woman, Zion. I need love too."

She looked up, pouting. "Compared to other women, I've already been very generous. Haven't I?"

The resistance drained out of him. The next second, he crushed her against his chest.

The sight hit me like a blow between the eyes.

My world spun, the pain sharp and dizzying.

"Will you keep me company for the next few days?" Lydia asked, her voice dripping with feigned vulnerability.

She wore such a wronged expression.

Guilt flashed in his eyes. He surrendered softly. "Okay."

He balanced two boats with such practiced ease.

Suddenly, Lydia shifted her gaze.

She looked past his shoulder and stared directly into the shadows where I stood. She saw me.

But she didn't scream. She didn't expose me.

Instead, locking eyes with me, she pulled him down and pressed her lips firmly against his.

They kissed with a blazing intensity, a fire hot enough to melt the falling snow.

I couldn't bear to watch another second. Stumbling, I retreated to the room, climbed onto the bed, and curled into a tight ball.

Some time later, Zion returned.

He reached out and pulled me into his arms, but his embrace offered no comfort—only a chilling void that seeped into my bones. Fear gnawed at me.

In that moment, I finally understood the true meaning of sharing a bed but dreaming different dreams.

I lay awake the entire night. Zion slept soundly. The next morning, he hurried out before the sun had fully risen.

Moments later, my phone buzzed.

Sorry, Rose. The company suddenly ordered me to work overtime out of town. If I don't go, I'll be fired.

Stay home and be good. When I get back, I'll take you out for a nice meal.

I stared at the screen. The words were patronizing, the kind used to coax a naive child. A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

In the past, I would have believed him without hesitation. I would have worried about his health, thinking how hard he worked for us.

Now, I realized just how stupid I had been.

The afternoon dragged on in silence until a sharp knock shattered the quiet.

Lydia stood at the door.

I wasn't surprised. The way she had looked at me last night—triumphant, cruel—had been a silent promise. I had been waiting for this.

"Look at this dump," she sneered, her gaze sweeping over the shabby rental. "You would have been better off dying five years ago."

"What do you mean?" My voice trembled. "What did I do to deserve this?"

Only then did she meet my eyes. The gleam of a victor.

"Actually, you didn't do anything wrong," she said, her voice dripping with malice. "It's simply because Zion doesn't love you. That's all."

"Then why did he come looking for me? Why—" I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. Despite everything, a desperate part of me still clung to hope.

"Maybe for fun?" Her smile widened. She pulled out her phone. "Watch this."

A grainy video from five years ago. Me and Lydia at the corner of a staircase.

Her voice, sharp: "You didn't have money to study, so I funded your tuition. You couldn't find a job, so I recruited you into the company."

My past self, agitated: "You said you were my benefactor—so why did you steal my husband?"

Lydia, chillingly calm: "That I can steal Zion away just proves my ability. I want to live the life of a rich wife—what's wrong with that?"

Then the video took a violent turn. Lydia produced a fruit knife and slashed her own palm. She staggered back, feigning a fall, bursting into theatrical sobs.

Seconds later, Zion rushed in. Lydia pointed at me, screaming that I had tried to kill her.

Before I could speak, Zion slapped me across the face.

"You vicious woman!" he roared. "I truly misjudged you! For hurting Lydia, I will make you pay a thousandfold!"

The video ended.

Strength left my legs. I slumped to the floor.

Lydia stood over me, narrating with glee how she had systematically stolen Zion away. Every manipulation. Every lie that led him to hate me while doting on her.

One betrayal after another.

My entire body trembled.

"Rose," she said, cold and final. "Compared to me, you never stood a chance."

She turned on her heel, the click-clack of her heels fading down the hallway.

I sat alone, tears streaming until there were none left. My heart, finally and completely, died.

Slowly, I stood. I packed my few belongings into a cheap woven sack.

Without looking back, I walked out into the wind and snow.

I don't need this pitiful excuse for love.

At that same moment, Zion Gilbert was in the bath when a sudden, inexplicable dread washed over him. Not a fleeting thought—a physical reaction. A sharp chill down his spine, mimicking the exact despair he'd felt five years ago.

The day he lost Rose Henson.

Driven by instinct, he grabbed his phone and dialed her number.