Chapter 2

I didn't stay until the end. I fled home in a panic.

The house that once felt warm now seemed like a terrifying abyss. I stood in the entryway, leaning against the console table, feeling for the first time how utterly foreign this place was.

But I couldn't run. If I ran, I would lose completely.

While they were still at the auditorium, I searched everywhere. Finally, at the bottom of Derek's storage box filled with company documents, I found a hard paper bag.

Inside was a brand-new red silk dress.

The tag was still attached. Twelve thousand eight hundred dollars.

Just last month, when my father got sick, I asked Derek for ten thousand dollars for medical expenses.

But he showed me his bank balance-only two thousand dollars.

"All the money's been invested in the company's new project. There's really nothing left. If your father needs it urgently, I can try to borrow from friends."

I didn't want him to owe favors, so I maxed out my own credit card and then scrambled to find part-time work to pay it back.

And now, this twelve-thousand-eight-hundred-dollar red dress felt like a slap across my face.

"My mom loves to wear red dresses."

Liam's voice echoed in my mind. I swallowed my unease and opened the card hidden beneath the dress. It said:

"My Beloved Rachel:

Red is the color of home. The mother in Liam's essay should have been you. Thank you for all you have done for our family. I wrap you in this crimson light, with a wish to walk beside you all my life.

Derek."

I clenched the card, recalling that woman's face.

Rachel Sinclair, Derek's high school classmate. She studied fashion design in college and opened her own studio right after graduation.

Before I had Liam, I would occasionally check Derek's company finances.

Back then, half the investment funds went to Rachel Sinclair's studio. I thought it was odd, but Derek said she was talented and it was a sure bet.

Later, he convinced me to be a stay-at-home mom, and I stopped asking about company finances.

Looking back now, perhaps even then, he was already with Rachel.

In his heart, Rachel was his beloved, the woman meant to be with him for life.

She had done "everything for their family." So what about me? What was I?

I put the dress back and opened Derek's computer to check his transaction records.

These past years, dealing with daily household chores, I always had endless housework. He was confident I had no time to look at his computer, so he never set a password.

Over the past three months, there were several large purchases.

Maldives hotel, three-person suite: thirty-eight thousand dollars.

Jewelry counter: eighty thousand dollars.

Disney resort: ten thousand dollars.

Transaction after transaction-amounts I'd never seen before.

Although Derek owned a company, all these years it was always "the company's growth phase." His money always had to go into projects, leaving me with only a few thousand dollars for living expenses.

I thought if I just held on a bit longer, once the projects paid off, life would get better.

But in reality, he'd been living well all along-the person enjoying the good life with him just wasn't me.

Around nine in the evening, Derek finally brought Liam home, his tone tinged with helplessness.

"After the ceremony ended, the teacher organized a dinner for all of us. We just finished eating."

"Honey, have you eaten?"

I looked at him without responding.

At the auditorium, other parents had mentioned there was no dinner planned for tonight-everyone was supposed to celebrate with their own children.

So where did you go, and who did you eat with?

I clutched the sofa cushion. Beside me, Liam was yawning.

"I'm so sleepy. I want to go to bed."

"Liam, want some ice cream?"

His eyes immediately lit up. "Can I? Yes!"

"Liam!"

Derek suddenly snapped at him. "Only one a day!"

As soon as he said it, he realized his mistake and quickly changed course.

"The teacher gave him one as a reward tonight. You know the rule. He can't have more."

Liam nodded along. "Right."

Father and son went to wash up. My temples were pounding.

My son was only six years old, but he'd already learned to conspire with his father to deceive me-for another woman.

What about the career I gave up for laundry and packed lunches? The friendships that quietly faded away? Every hobby that slowly gathered dust?

Had every sacrifice I'd made over the years truly meant nothing at all?