A blank chat window with no previous messages suddenly popped up with a new text, [I left my stockings in your car. Hurry up and bring them back to me.]

Seconds later, the message was deleted.

But I had already seen every single word.

Clutching the phone, I began to tremble uncontrollably.

"What’s wrong, darling? Are you still feeling unwell?"

Jared’s concern was focused entirely on me. He didn’t notice my shaking hands as I discreetly slid his phone face down onto the couch.

"I’m just a bit tired. I think I’ll take a shower." I brushed his hand away gently, standing up from the sofa.

Jared seemed to sense something was off. His gaze followed me with suspicion as I walked away, and then he suddenly turned back toward the corner of the couch where his phone lay.

By the time I entered the bathroom, he had already picked it up, his expression growing tense.

What he didn’t know was that just moments ago, I had implanted a chip into his phone that would sync all his chat logs to mine.

A new message appeared almost immediately. [Why did you delete it? Haven’t I told you not to text me when I'm at home?]

The reply came in an instant. [I was just trying to be thoughtful! If your precious darling finds my stockings in your car, how will you explain it?"]

[You know she’s my one and only, and you still dare to seduce me? Don’t text me again. Tonight, I belong to my darling.]

[Fine, fine, I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll go model for your nemesis instead—let him see your masterpiece from today.]

[Don’t you dare!]

Their back-and-forth made me physically nauseous.

I bit down hard on my arm to stifle my sobs, tears silently streaming down my face as I stood in the bathroom.

My blurred vision was no match for the endless flood of tears. I wiped at them furiously, but they wouldn’t stop.

I clenched my teeth and tried to comfort myself.

'It’s okay. I’m leaving soon anyway.

Whatever Jared does from now on, no matter how outrageous, it won’t have anything to do with me.

Don’t cry. It’s your birthday today. Grandma said birthday girls shouldn’t cry.

Don’t...'

But just then, a wave of nausea rose from my stomach, and I couldn’t hold it back.

"Ugh!"

Jared heard the noise and rushed to the bathroom door, knocking anxiously. "What’s wrong, darling? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

I turned on the faucet, trying to drown out the sound of my retching as my body convulsed in pain.

Swallowing my tears, I managed to force out a weak reply. "I’m fine."

At that moment, another message from that woman appeared.

[Having a nice birthday, Lia? Want to make a bet? I can have you sleeping alone tonight with just one word.]

I didn’t reply, and she grew bolder, sending one video after another.

The videos showed her and Jared, both unclothed, as he painted her in various intimate settings.

[I’m his exclusive model. These are his masterpieces. One day, I’ll stand beside him on the highest podium. Aren’t you jealous, Lia?]

I still didn’t respond. Unfazed, she continued her taunts.

[Did you know? He said the scar on your chest is disgusting, that you’ll never be fit to be his model.]

She was right—I had a scar on my chest, a memento from three years ago when I shielded Jared from a knife.

Every time he saw it, his brows would furrow instinctively. I had always thought it was out of love and concern.

But now I knew—he found it revolting.

It turned out I was an eyesore to him all along.

The pain in my chest spread throughout my body, numbing me entirely. Outside the door, Jared gripped the handle nervously.

"Open the door, darling. What’s going on?"

The housekeeper, hearing the commotion, hurried over with a bowl of sobering soup.

"Did she drink too much today? Maybe it upset her stomach?" she wondered.

Brimming with frustration, Jared immediately raised his foot to kick open the door.

I composed myself, smoothed out my expression, and stepped out.

Jared froze for a split second before pulling me into his arms. "You’re trying to scare me to death, aren’t you, Lia? Is your stomach acting up again? Let’s go to the hospital right now."

I shook my head. "No need. A bowl of the hangover soup Auntie made will do the trick."

Without hesitation, Jared took the bowl from Auntie, gently blew on it to cool it down, and fed it to me one spoonful at a time. "Come on, drink this. Tonight, I won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay home with you."

I swallowed the soup silently, lips pressed together. Suddenly, his phone buzzed repeatedly. I knew it was her.

Annoyed, Jared put down the bowl and reached for his phone, intending to turn it off. But whatever he saw on the screen made him hesitate. His expression shifted slightly, and he quickly turned to me with an apologetic look.

"Darling, there’s a bit of a mess with the night market’s art exhibition. I..."

Before he could finish, I suppressed my disgust and replied graciously, "Work comes first. You should go. Auntie’s here, so you don’t have to worry about me."

Jared’s furrowed brows smoothed out instantly. He kissed me lightly and hurriedly promised, "Take your medicine and rest early. I’ll be back as soon as I sort this out."

I nodded, and only then did he leave, seemingly relieved.

Once he was gone, a message from her popped up again.

[You lost, Lia. On such an important day, Jared still left you. Want to know what I told him?]

I didn’t respond, but instead sent her the screenshots of their synced chat history.

She went silent for a few minutes before replying,

[Since you’ve seen it all, there’s no point in hiding anymore. Yes, I’m pregnant, and the child is his.]

I tossed my phone aside and went to the bathroom, scrubbing every inch of skin that Jared had touched.

When I came out, she had sent me photos of Jared accompanying her to the hospital.

Almost simultaneously, Jared texted me as well, [Darling, the exhibition issue is a bit tricky. Be a good girl and sleep first. I miss you.]

I couldn’t help but laugh.

He had a child with another woman, yet he still had the audacity to tell me he missed me without feeling the slightest bit of shame.

Countdown: Day Six

Jared didn’t come home at all last night. It seemed becoming a father was an exciting milestone for him.

Early in the morning, I called Professor Davis to confirm the procedures and sign the agreement for the time capsule experiment.

"Lia, this is a serious decision," Professor Davis warned. "Once you enter the time capsule, you might not return to the real world for twenty years. Are you sure you don’t want to discuss this with your family?"

I shook my head. "Since my grandmother passed, I’ve been alone. There’s no one to discuss this with."

"And your boyfriend?" he asked.

"We’ve broken up," I said resolutely.

Professor Davis looked surprised but nodded with a hint of regret. After all, Jared’s grand romantic gestures to win me over back then—kneeling in the rain for a whole day and night against his family’s objections—were widely known.

"And this time...?"

Understanding his concern, I explained my reasoning. "My grandmother’s sudden passing left a scar in my heart. I want to use this opportunity, through the time capsule experiment, to see her again from afar."

Professor Davis nodded thoughtfully and gave me a final word of caution. "The time capsule’s world is still imperfect. Be extra cautious once you’re inside. Above all, you must avoid meeting your other self in that timeline. If their consciousness awakens, it could be fatal to you."

I nodded in understanding.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Jared and that woman emerging from a mall across the street, arms wrapped around each other. The two laughed and teased one another like a pair of lovers madly in love.

This time, I finally got a clear look at her face.

Clenching my coffee cup tightly, I let a cold smirk tug at the corners of my mouth.

So, it was her. She really knew how to put on a show.

Jared made a point to come home during lunch, bringing a Tiffany Victoria necklace to "make amends."

"I’m sorry, darling. The art exhibition kept me up until late last night, and I ended up crashing at the office," he said, his voice filled with regret. His eyes were slightly red, as if he’d been up all night agonizing over something.

"I didn’t balance work and life well," he continued, guilt-ridden, while carefully fastening the necklace around my neck. He then took my hand gently, brushing his thumb over the back of it in an apologetic, almost ingratiating manner—the way he always did when he tried to win me back after upsetting me.

Suppressing my disgust, I smiled and reassured him. "It’s okay. The exhibition is your labor of love for the past three years. It’s only right to give it your all."

Lowering my gaze, I cut a piece of steak and held it up to his lips. "Eat something. You must be starving after working through the night. Your lips are so dry, and your eyes are bloodshot."

Perhaps sensing the subtle undertone in my words, his expression froze for a moment. Flustered, he swallowed the steak, then leaned his head against my shoulder, feigning affection.

"My darling always worries about me. Just give me a little more time. Once I’ve proven myself, my family will have no choice but to agree to our marriage. And when that day comes, I’ll give you a wedding that you’ll remember for the rest of your life."

In the past, when he talked about our future wedding, my eyes would tear up, and I would dream about it with him.

Now, I realize how laughably naïve I was.

Jared had taught me the hard way. 'When a man lies, he doesn’t even blink.'

I pushed him away, revolted. No matter how expensive the cologne, it couldn’t mask the stench of betrayal.

Countdown: Day Five

I visited my family home for the first time in three years to retrieve some keepsakes my grandmother left behind.

My stepmother greeted me with her usual snide remarks, muttering to my father, "Look who finally remembered her roots. Did that painter boyfriend of hers dump her?"

My father shot her a warning glance and came over, forcing a smile as he tried to defuse the situation. "It’s been so long since we’ve seen her. Why bring up unpleasant things?"

Back then, Jared had slapped my stepmother across the face while standing up for me, a slight she’d never forgiven.

As I stood there, Molly, my half-sister, suddenly appeared and threw herself into my arms, nuzzling me like a kitten. "Sis, you’re finally back! I missed you so much!"

Molly always acted harmless in front of me, but behind my back, she schemed to take everything I had.

When I gently pushed her away, she made sure to tilt her neck just enough for me to notice the faint hickey on her skin.

No need to guess whose it was—Jared’s.

The photos, the chat logs, and now the pregnancy. She was in a hurry to push me out of the picture, desperate to marry Jared before her belly grew too obvious to hide.

After all, my father was obsessed with his reputation. If he found out she was pregnant out of wedlock, he wouldn’t hesitate to disown her.

For a moment, I actually pitied her.

Even without me in the picture, Jared would never marry her.

Who would accept the daughter of a bar dancer, especially someone from a family like Jared’s?