Chapter 2

After I was discharged, I found Damien had blocked me everywhere, every single way I could reach him.

When I went to find him, Damien was playfully feeding a cherry from his lips to Chloe's. He said impatiently,

"Last time, you kept blowing up my phone with texts while I was on a date. It was annoying, so I just blocked you."

I plastered on a weak smile, trying to convince myself.

He was like this because I'd left without a word.

I believed that if I just told him the truth, the man who once had eyes only for me would return.

But watching him and Chloe, their intimacy like a cruel dance, my chest felt like a gaping wound, cold air rushing in, freezing me from the inside out.

Only in dreams could I find the phantom warmth that lingered from the past.

As the sounds of their pleasure seeped through the walls from next door, I dreamed of my first encounter with the 35-year-old Damien.

My friend and I were hiking when a sudden hailstorm hit. She complained I was too slow and just abandoned me.

I walked, crying, until I encountered Damien, who was also hiking.

His eyes locked on mine, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. Then he chuckled, amused by my pathetic, tear-streaked face.

He gave me all his supplies, every last bit, leaving himself vulnerable. He suffered severe frostbite, leaving him with permanent damage.

Before we married, he was everything gentle and attentive. I just had to wish for something, and he'd make it happen.

Even when work was hectic, he'd make time to celebrate every holiday with me.

He said, "Eleanor, I'm thirteen years older than you. I'll wait for you to come around at your own pace."

He said, "Eleanor, I know you lost your parents. From now on, I'm your family. You'll never be alone; you'll have everything with me."

My parents died in a car crash when I was ten. I was adopted by Vicky.

When I was in college, Vicky and her family moved abroad, leaving me alone.

Having never been in love before, his sincerity shattered my defenses.

Feeling utterly unworthy of him, I could only express my love in my own clumsy ways.

I wrote him letters, folded paper cranes, even bought him a tie with two months of summer job earnings.

I poured my entire being into him, gave him everything I had.

He'd rent out all the major billboards across the city to wish me a happy birthday.

He'd even jet off to the Southern Hemisphere to buy a limited-edition collectible, all because I'd casually mentioned liking it.

Even though our age difference drew whispers and gossip, when we were together, when I was truly in love, I felt like the happiest woman alive.

But after we were married, that beautiful dream... it shattered into a million painful pieces.

On my birthday, simply because Chloe was in a bad mood, he left me stranded on the highway.

I walked ten kilometers in a torrential downpour, then came home with a raging fever that lasted three days.

While I was suffering from a bleeding ulcer with no money for treatment, he bought Chloe an $880,000 designer bag and tossed me a scratch-off lottery ticket.

"Whatever you scratch, that's what you get. If it's not enough, figure it out yourself."

Dreaming this, my tears streamed down.

In the fuzzy space between sleep and waking, I felt arms wrap around me.

I looked up, my gaze locking with Damien's bloodshot, raw eyes.

His voice was thick with unshed tears, a guttural choke.

"Eleanor," he choked out, "I searched for her for ten agonizing years. How could she be so heartless? She left no trace, no clue. She even hid the fact that she was married when we were together."

"So, all these years... did she ever mention me? Did she ever once say she was sorry?"

His cold tears trickled onto my neck, chilling me.

But it was a burn, a shiver that ran through me.

I couldn't hold back anymore. A torrent of tears burst forth.

The raw bitterness that had festered within me for days seemed to wash away with each sob, each tear.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, clinging to that long-lost warmth, desperate for it.

The next second, his breath, laced with hatred, ghosted across my ear. "You hate her too, don't you?"

"Hate her for abandoning you, hate her for tearing your family apart."

When I froze, unable to respond, he let out a bitter laugh.

"Forget it. Asking you is useless."

His voice sharpened, cutting through the air. "Because you're just as pathetic as your mother! I've treated you like this, and you still won't leave."

He spat, "No one in this world loves you. Not your mother, not me. You're nothing but your father's mistake."

His kiss was brutal, crushing. I gasped, a sharp stab of pain.

He sneered. "Didn't you used to beg me to touch you? What are you pretending now?"

My stomach churned, a knot of revulsion tightening in my throat. My nails dug deep into my palms, leaving crescent marks.

All the pain, the suffocating suppression, the unspeakable emotions... they wrapped around me, a thick, impenetrable cocoon.

Leaving me utterly drained, even of the strength to cry out.

The next day, when I saw him again, I averted my gaze.

But then he pulled out a letter, holding it carefully, and gently, unbelievably, wrapped his arms around me.

I shivered, staring at him in disbelief.

After losing my voice, I'd tried desperately to write down the details of what had happened ten years ago, hoping to tell him the truth.

But he'd been too busy sleeping with other women, never even glancing at what I'd written.

But now, his tears, hot and heavy, landed on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry. All of it... it's all my fault."