Chapter 2

So, starting on my seventeenth birthday when I remembered everything, I made a conscious effort to pull away from Vivian.

She refused to give up. She'd track me down after every class, wait for me at the school gates, and camp outside my front door on weekends just to spend an extra hour with me.

Seventeen-year-old me couldn't withstand the fierce, relentless devotion of that girl. I finally pleaded with her,

"One day, the person you truly love will show up. I'm just someone passing through your life. You don't need to lock yourself down right now."

Her cheeks flushed bright red. Her eyes sparkled with sheer determination as she stared back at me, her voice ringing clear and sincere:

"Never. No one will ever be more worthy of my love than Ethan Hayes."

Never. Forever.

She said it, and I believed it.

Back then, I didn't understand how hollow that word could be.

People change.

And it is tragic how easily hearts shift.

It turned out Vivian's "forever" only lasted a brief ten years.

A single decade was all it took for her to trample over the sacred vows of her youth.

A dull, throbbing pain ripped through my chest. I stared at her, interrogating her, feeling as though every word was a blade carving into my own heart:

"Ha... hahahaha! A baby? You're actually carrying his baby..."

"Vivian Vance, unbelievable..."

"He's only been back in the country for six months! And just like that, the old flame reignites?"

"You cheated on our marriage... God, you make me sick..."

Her head hung low, silent. She let me rage and curse at her without fighting back. She just stepped back a few paces, resting both hands over her lower belly. It was as if she was terrified I would snap and hurt her precious child.

Only when I was breathless and went quiet did she finally speak.

"Let's get a divorce. The house, the cars, you take it all. I don't want a dime. Don't blame him. The affair is on me. Just... please don't hurt my baby."

She owned up to the betrayal without a shred of hesitation, and she divided our assets just as ruthlessly.

Of course. The male lead is the male lead, after all. Rumor had it he had made a fortune during his years overseas and had returned home with serious wealth.

Naturally, he wouldn't care about our modest marital property.

I choked out a laugh through pure fury. I watched as she calmly pulled out a divorce agreement from her designer bag and placed it neatly in front of me.

"I'll have movers come pack my things later. You don't need to lift a finger. Just sign."

"Fine... fine... great..."

I snatched up the papers, muttering the words over and over. Then, right as relief flickered in her eyes, I whipped the agreement down, sending the sheets scattering violently across her designer shoes.

"I'll sign the damn papers. But you... get out! Don't you ever show your face in front of me again!"

She flinched, looking panicked for a fraction of a second, then tapped something on her phone and practically fled out the door.

I leaned against the windowsill. Through the glass, I saw her waiting by the curb. Seconds later, she gracefully slipped into an expensive sports car.

The driver's window rolled down smoothly. The man behind the wheel looked directly up at my window, shooting me a smug, provocative smirk.

Julian Sterling. The male lead of this world.

And the man my wife had cheated on me with.