Chapter 1

The day my husband and I were supposed to finalize our divorce was also the day his first love returned to the country.

On my way to the courthouse, I was in a car accident.

As the paramedics rushed me to the hospital, I clung to my phone, hoping—praying—that he would call.

When his name finally flashed on the screen, I answered with trembling hands.

His voice came through, sharp and cold, the first words out of his mouth a scathing accusation:

“Annie, what game are you playing now? You’re late.”

“Miss, are you heading to the courthouse to get married?”

The cab driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, grinning as he tried to make small talk.

I smiled faintly back at him. “No, I’m going there to get divorced.”

The smile froze on his face, and for a moment, he looked genuinely awkward.

“Oh… uh… I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to assume,” he stammered.

“It’s fine,” I said gently. “Most people wouldn’t think of divorce as their first guess. It’s not your fault.”

He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. The atmosphere in the car grew a little tense.

After a few beats of silence, he spoke again, his voice hesitant. “If you don’t mind me asking… what happened? Why are you getting divorced?”

His question caught me off guard.

Realizing how intrusive it might’ve sounded, he quickly added, “I just mean… you’re young, beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have you. Why would anyone let it get to this point?”

There was genuine curiosity in his tone, even a hint of pity.

I let out a soft “oh” and decided there was no harm in telling the truth.

“He’s still in love with someone else,” I said lightly. “His first love. She’s back in the country, and now that she’s here, there’s no room for me anymore.”

I tried to sound unaffected, brushing it off as something trivial. But the driver fell silent, clearly unsure how to respond.

He didn’t ask anything else after that, and I turned my attention to the window, letting the conversation die.

A few years ago, his first love, Summer, had left the country. She’d married a wealthy man overseas, and the news had devastated Ethan.

He had spiraled, a shell of himself, drowning in his heartbreak.

That was when I saw my chance.

I’d loved Ethan for as long as he’d loved Summer, and when she disappeared from his life, I swooped in. I was there for him when he was at his lowest, and eventually, I became the one he leaned on.

It worked.

Ethan and I started dating, and over time, we got engaged and then married.

For a few years, Summer’s name stopped haunting our lives. Things were never passionate between us, but we coexisted peacefully, and I thought that might be enough.

It wasn’t perfect, but at least it was something.