Amaris glanced at me briefly before turning away, her steps light, almost skipping with excitement.

I narrowed my eyes, watching them through the small gap, every movement under my scrutiny.

Silas turned back, his gaze slithering over every inch of my home like a filthy autumn insect.

A smug, unrestrained smile twisted across his face, one of ownership and satisfaction.

Amaris’s retreating figure trembled slightly, whether from excitement or shame; it was hard to tell.

But this was my home.

That woman, still my wife in name, had just shamelessly flirted with another man.

My throat tightened, the sensation of fire building within me.

I began coughing again, this time violently, stars dancing in my vision.

"Silas, let’s move farther. It’s too noisy here," Amaris’s voice floated in from outside, laced with impatience and scorn.

Silas’s voice, lazy and dripping with disdain, followed, "Let him sleep. Sick people need their rest. It’ll be quieter for us outside."

Their footsteps faded and the room fell into silence once more.

Only my labored breathing served as a reminder that I was still clinging to life.

Just then, the courtyard gate creaked open. Caelum had returned.

Caelum, my child with Amaris, at least, that’s what I had always believed.

But in my last life, the words I overheard in my final moments had cast a shadow of doubt.

"Dad, where’s Mom?"

Caelum pushed open the door, scanning the house, impatience clear in his voice.

"She had something to do and went out."

"Has Uncle Silas come yet? The school keeps asking for a parent and you’re an embarrassment looking like this. What am I supposed to do?"

Caelum tossed his school bag onto the table, frustration seeping from him.

His words hit me like a cold splash of water and I understood.

Amaris must have told him about Silas moving in long before.

In my past life, I had fretted over how he might react, even trying to explain things to him.

Now, I saw how utterly pathetic and futile those efforts had been.

My heart sank deeper, settling in a pit of cold realization.

Since you were all so determined, just wait and see.

In the days that followed, though I had stopped drinking the medicine, I continued to play the role of the helpless patient.

I pretended to be weak, even telling Amaris and Silas that I was too frail to leave my bed.

Amaris’s eyes sparked with brief excitement when she heard, but she quickly masked it, replacing the glint with a concerned frown.

Silas played along, too, suggesting he might take me to a hospital in the city.

Of course, he never made a single move to do so.

That day, Silas was in the courtyard, moving things with loud, strained grunts that echoed through the air.

"Amaris, come help me out. Pass me a towel."

Silas’s voice called out, rough and demanding.

Amaris hurried over, clutching the towel and wiping the sweat from his face with tender care.

Her tenderness stirred something strange within me.

"Brother Silas, slow down. It’s heavy. Don’t strain your back," she murmured, her voice soft, drenched in concern.

From my bed, I could only watch their shadows dance against the window, each movement accompanied by sounds that scraped at my nerves.

Then, with a sudden burst of strength, Silas grunted a beastly sound.

The harsh scraping of the water jar being shifted echoed in the stillness, followed by a heavy breath as Silas swung his arms, sweat flying from his body.

"Ah..." he sighed, dragging the sound long.

"A house without a man to hold it together is nothing but chaos, utterly disordered."

His voice wasn’t loud, but each word landed like a hammer against my chest.

Amaris immediately picked up the conversation, her words dripping with false sympathy.

"Isn’t that the truth? Ever since Brother Alaric fell ill, nothing in this house has been anything but a headache. Life has become unbearable."

"If it weren’t for you..."

She didn’t finish the sentence, but her meaning hung in the air, heavy and clear.

I turned over sharply, deliberately letting out a few harsh coughs.

But to my surprise, instead of backing off, Amaris and Silas grew even more brazen.

A few days later, Silas began flaunting his newfound authority, moving around the house like he owned it.

The old storage cabinet stood against the wall, a silent reminder of my father’s legacy.

Inside were the tools my father had used throughout his life, tools of his craft.

My father had been a well-known shadow puppeteer in the surrounding villages.

It was his exceptional craftsmanship that had earned him a fortune envied by many.

But after my marriage, a tragic accident had sent him tumbling into a ditch.

From that moment on, my health mysteriously worsened and my position in this house diminished with each passing day.

"This useless junk is nothing but an eyesore," Silas muttered, his brow furrowing as he reached for the cabinet, determined to drag it away.

"Don’t—" I had barely begun to speak when a loud crash ripped through the silence.

The cabinet toppled, sending my father’s shadow puppet figures scattering across the floor.

Even the lanterns, his most prized possessions, were shattered into countless fragments.

Silas let out a dramatic yelp, bending down to collect the pieces with an exaggerated tenderness.

"Alaric, look at me. I'm so clumsy, breaking everything. You won’t hold it against me, will you?"

Though his words were laced with feigned apology, a flicker of triumph gleamed in his eyes.

At the sound of the crash, Amaris rushed into the room, her expression tight with concern.

The moment her eyes fell on the wreckage, her brows knitted together in a deep frown.

But instead of looking at me, she headed straight to Silas, her voice full of false sweetness.

"Brother Silas, are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?"

She examined him from head to toe, her worry almost tangible.

Then, without missing a beat, she spun around and snapped at me, her voice sharp and accusing.

"How many times have I told you to get rid of this junk? Why do you leave it lying around? Look, you nearly got Brother Silas hurt!"

Amaris’s voice was sharp, her foot sweeping across the scattered fragments.

"This old, worthless trash! Who even bothers with shadow puppets anymore? People watch movies now!"

A rush of blood surged to my head, a deafening hum echoing in my ears.

I stared at Amaris, her face once so familiar and cherished to me, now twisted with nothing but frustration and disdain, all because of another man.

A sharp pain pierced through my chest and I erupted into a violent fit of coughs.

But Amaris never spared me another glance. She supported Silas as they walked out, leaving me behind in the wreckage, abandoned and alone.

Looking back, it was almost laughable.

A child could never truly keep secrets, no matter how hard they tried.

Ever since Silas moved in, my son, Caelum, who had once clung to me every day, now seemed completely captivated by something else.

Even though reason told me he might not be my biological son, after two lifetimes as his father, I still couldn’t help but care for him.

"Caelum, how are your grades this term? Let me take a look."

I swallowed the dryness in my throat, forcing out the words hoarsely.

"What’s there to look at? It’s so annoying. Nothing to see."

Caelum didn’t even glance up, his fingers absently picking at a shiny metal tin.

His tone was sharp, tinged with icy bitterness, each word sliced through me like shards of glass.

Unconsciously, my eyes drifted toward the courtyard.

My gaze met Silas’s just as he turned, his eyes locking with mine.

For a fleeting moment, his meaningful smile vanished, but its shadow still sent a cold shiver down my spine.

It wasn’t just Caelum; even the villagers seemed like strangers.

At first, when word spread about Silas taking over my household, some of my father’s old friends came by, offering their hollow words of comfort, telling me to “hold on” and that “life isn’t easy.”

But soon enough, it felt like no one cared whether I lived or died.

I couldn’t say what Amaris had been whispering to people or if it was just that Silas’s harmless, sincere face was too convincing.

But the villagers’ sympathy for me quickly shifted into thinly veiled disdain.

After all, living with someone as good as the dead was hardly a light burden.

Taking advantage of the pleasant weather, I thought about going for a walk, but before I even reached the old locust tree at the village’s edge, a flood of gossip washed over me, each word sharper than the last.

“If you ask me, that sickly Alaric is truly blessed by his ancestors.”

Liora’s cutting voice sliced through the air.

“He lost his father and now he spends his days bedridden. It’s a miracle he managed to marry someone like Amaris; any other woman would’ve left him by now.”

“And that Brother Silas, he’s something else! Helping with such sincerity, far better than that useless man.”

“Exactly! Without Silas, they would’ve starved long ago.”

“I don’t know how thick Alaric’s skin must be. If it were up to me, I’d say he should just leave. Let mother and son have some peace for once.”

“As if that worthless man would ever leave. He’s lucky to have a warm meal at all; what more does he need?”