Chapter 4

I clicked into that account's profile.

Most posts were about her child and food, with occasional selfies, all heavily blurred.

I couldn't see her face clearly.

But in one photo of her and the child at an amusement park, I saw a man's silhouette.

That silhouette wasn't Mario.

So she really did have a family.

I saved screenshots of everything, feeling my hands shake.

Anger and the sense of betrayal almost swallowed me whole.

I used to think I was the happiest woman in the world.

Now I knew—I was just a fool living in lies.

Mario, good for you. You deceived me so thoroughly.

Looking at the pitch-black night outside my window, a plan had already formed in my mind.

Picking up my phone, I sent Mario a message.

"Mario, I can't sleep. Tomorrow I'll become your legal wife. I'm so nervous."

He replied almost instantly: "Silly girl, don't be nervous. I'm here."

"Get some sleep. Tomorrow you'll be the most beautiful bride."

Looking at his reply, I continued typing.

"Let's see a movie before we get our license tomorrow?"

"At the theater on top of that mall in the west. I want to see that sci-fi film."

The phone went silent for a long time—so long I thought he wouldn't reply.

Just as I was losing patience, a notification sounded.

"Okay, whatever you want." Followed by a kissing emoji.

I turned off my phone and lay in bed, sleepless all night.

The next day, I deliberately did elaborate makeup—red lips, black dress.

The me in the mirror looked nothing like my usual gentle image.

My mom saw me and froze.

"Timothy, why are you... dressed so formally today?"

I smiled. "Mom, today's an important day for me. Of course it should be different."

When Mario came to pick me up, he was clearly stunned too.

The amazement in his eyes flashed by, then he smiled. "Honey, you look beautiful today."

Mario tried to take my hand, but I subtly avoided it.

"Let's go. Aren't we seeing a movie? Don't be late."

On the way to the theater, the atmosphere in the car felt strange.

I didn't speak, just looked out the window.

Mario seemed to want to find topics to discuss, but I deflected them all coldly.

As we neared the theater, I suddenly spoke.

"By the way, Mario."

"A friend of mine said she thought she saw you around here a few days ago."

Mario's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Really? She probably saw wrong."

"She said you were with a woman, laughing and chatting."

I continued, staring at him intently. "I told her she must have been mistaken. You were so busy those days working overtime with clients."

Mario's expression became unnatural for a moment. He laughed dryly. "Your friend's eyesight must be terrible. I didn't even leave the office those days."

"Really?" I drew out the syllable. "Then she probably really did see wrong."

At the theater, I went to the self-service kiosk to get the tickets.

When the two tickets emerged from the machine, I saw the seat numbers.

Row 7, Seats 11 and 12.

I remembered comments under that trending photo—some tech expert had analyzed that the couple in the photo sat in Row 7, Seats 12 and 13.

And their husband and child sat in Seat 11.

Holding the tickets, I walked over to Mario.

He was looking down at his phone, seemingly replying to a message.

"Got the tickets."

I handed the tickets to Mario. He took them, his gaze falling on the seat numbers.

Mario's expression changed instantly. He jerked his head up to look at me.

I calmly met his gaze, then slowly took out my phone.

I opened the "theater cheating photo" saved in my album, zoomed in, and held it in front of him.

"Take a look. Does this look familiar?"

The infrared camera image was so clear it left nowhere to hide.

In the photo, the ring on the man's hand was identical to the one Mario wore.

Mario's breathing became rapid. His lips moved, but he couldn't say a word.

I put away my phone and pointed at the woman in the photo who was twisted in her seat, fingers interlaced with his.

My voice was light: "Now, can you tell me who she is?"

Mario's face turned deathly pale in an instant.

He looked at the photo on my phone, his lips trembling, his eyes full of panic.

"Timothy, let me explain. This isn't what you think."

Mario's voice was hoarse, carrying a tremor.

I crossed my arms and looked at him coldly. "Oh? Then what is it?"

Mario explained frantically: "She... she's just a client of mine. That day after we finished talking business, she said she wanted to see a movie. Her husband and kid were there, so I just went along to watch with them."

I laughed. "A client? One who requires you to abandon your fiancée who's preparing for an engagement party to accompany her to a late-night movie?"

"As for holding hands... that was a misunderstanding! The theater was too dark. When she passed me popcorn, we accidentally touched!"

The more Mario spoke, the more fluent he became, as if he believed his own story.

He even started playing the victim, his face showing the pain and disappointment of being wronged. "Timothy, we've been together for three years. Is this how you see me?"

"One photo from who knows where, and you interrogate me like this?"

"We're about to get married, and you're still investigating me at this time?"

"In your heart, I can't even get basic trust?"

Mario's voice rose, carrying an angry tremor, as if I were the unreasonable criminal.

Watching his brilliant acting, my heart turned to ice.

"Really?"

I nodded, then pressed play on my phone.