Chapter 3

"Why?" I gripped the sheets tightly, an answer emerging in my mind.

Sure enough.

The next second I heard him say.

"Because the marriage certificate is fake, the parents are fake, and the friends and family at the wedding were fake too."

"Everything was carefully arranged by me."

"Ember, how are you going to report me?"

His tone was too calm, as if discussing what to have for lunch tomorrow.

But my heart grew colder and colder.

How could the boy who once knelt before 31 floors and 186 households during the pandemic, just to get me half a tablet of ibuprofen-how could he lie to me?

When my mother was hospitalized for three years, he was the one who stayed by her side day and night.

He saved the sweetest part of the watermelon for me, and only bought new clothes for me.

Even the pictures of snakes, insects, and toads in textbooks were folded over page by page because I was afraid of them.

But now he personally told me.

Everything I cherished most was all fake.

"Fine, then I'll leave right now and stay far away from you for the rest of my life. That should be okay, right?"

His dark eyes held mine for a long time.

Then he pulled me into his arms and kissed me like a storm, as if trying to melt me into his bones.

No matter how I struggled, he wouldn't let go.

Then a knock came at the door.

"Mr. Dustin, your wife is here."

"Mm."

He lifted his head, breathing unsteady.

I slapped him without hesitation. He caught my wrist and, eyes red, pressed his lips to my palm.

"Don't tell Summer about us. You can't bear the consequences."

"She wants you to accompany her for maternity photos tomorrow. Be good and go, or she won't be happy."

Every word was a command.

He quickly straightened his clothes and turned to leave.

Outside the door were bodyguards, and inside I soon received a transfer notification.

Two million dollars.

This amount used to be so unattainable for me.

But now it was just his most insignificant means of pleasing Summer.

Early the next morning, I was picked up and brought to a photography studio.

As soon as I went upstairs, I saw River massaging Summer's calves and rubbing her feet, while the surrounding staff members looked on enviously.

I stood frozen in place, suddenly remembering long ago.

River had studied massage techniques on his phone for ages, giving me relaxation massages every night just to relieve my headaches and back strain.

Back then, I thought his love and tenderness were mine alone.

I truly believed we would grow old together.

I never imagined I'd one day watch him be tender with another woman. And I was the "other woman," standing by.

The ache in my chest nearly swallowed me.

My eyes reddened. I lowered my head.

But Summer called me over cheerfully.

"Ember, you're finally here! Help me pick which sets to shoot!"

I pointed at random in the album.

Summer's face fell.

"What should I do? Ember likes this set, but I still want to shoot the other one more."

Hearing this, River immediately took away the album, directly tearing out the photo I had chosen, and kissed her forehead indulgently.

"It's okay. What she thinks doesn't matter. What matters is what you like."

"There, now it's settled. Have her choose again."

Summer laughed coquettishly and put the album in front of me again, looking at me expectantly.

I looked at that intimate couple's photo, my finger slowly reaching out, heavily tapping on it.

That phrase "doesn't matter" kept echoing in my ears.

So it was because he felt my feelings didn't matter that River could lie to me without scruple and ask me to compromise without a care.

In this relationship, he had always held the upper hand.

And I never had a say.

Summer walked off, satisfied, to change.

I sat on the sofa, staring blankly as River posed for her camera.