Chapter 1: It Should End Here
Alexander’s first love—the woman he’d broken up with six years ago and never truly forgotten—suddenly returned to the country.
And she brought a five-year-old son with her.
Claiming he was away on a business trip, Alexander had not come home for an entire month.
Today was Elsa and Alexander’s third wedding anniversary.
She had prepared a candlelit dinner and a gift, then sent him a message.
After nine that night, Alexander still hadn’t come home. Instead, Elsa received a call from her sister-in-law, Violet.
Violet told her to check the messages she’d just sent.
Elsa ended the call and opened their chat.
One glance was enough to freeze the smile on her face.
The plate in her hands slipped to the floor. Shards of ceramic struck her ankle, and a thin line of blood appeared, but Elsa didn’t react at all.
Violet had sent screenshots from Alexander’s social media. Her husband had booked out the entire Emerald Bay and was setting off birthday fireworks with his first love—for their son.
Elsa bent down to pick up her phone and opened the screenshots one by one: the beach, a yacht, fireworks, roses...
And her husband.
He held a four-or-five-year-old boy in one arm while his wedding-ringed hand rested intimately around a woman’s waist.
The photographs were beautiful and romantic. The caption read: A blueberry cake made by hand, for the two people I love most.
Even through a screen, the affection in those words was impossible to miss.
Elsa’s mind went blank.
With trembling fingers, she opened Alexander’s own social feed.
There was nothing there.
Her lips parted, but for a long time no sound came out.
She didn’t know when he’d changed his privacy settings so that his posts were hidden from her.
Those screenshots crushed the last fragile illusion she’d still been clinging to.
Unwilling to accept it, Elsa called Alexander.
He didn’t answer, so she called again.
After he rejected her third call, a message finally appeared on her screen.
Two short words.
I’m busy.
So impatient.
Helplessness, anger, jealousy, resentment—everything collided inside her until she could barely breathe.
Elsa curled in on herself, clutching her head with both hands. Pain tore through her chest in waves, as if someone were ripping her heart apart.
She grabbed at her hair and screamed until the sound broke, then collapsed into sobs.
A knock came at the door.
She forced herself up to answer it.
Violet froze when she saw her. “Elsa, are you okay?”
Tear tracks still wet on her face, Elsa shook her head numbly.
Violet stamped her foot in anger. “Come on. We’re going to Emerald Bay right now. I’m finding my brother.”
Elsa slowly forced herself to calm down. “Violet, let me handle this between your brother and me.”
Her mother had only just undergone heart bypass surgery and was still lying in a hospital bed. Elsa could not fall apart now.
By the time Violet left, it was already after midnight.
Elsa wandered through every corner of the house like a ghost.
She and Alexander had grown up together.
Everyone in their social circle knew she’d loved him since childhood.
Everyone also knew there was another woman in Alexander’s heart—the one he had loved but could never have.
The only reason Alexander married Elsa was to honor an old family arrangement.
For three years after their wedding, Elsa had believed that if she tried hard enough, one day she could warm his heart.
Instead of his love, she got news that he had reunited with the woman he’d never forgotten.
A childhood crush. A woman’s love after growing up. Twenty-five years of her life.
She had spent all of it on him.
It was time to stop.
Her mind knew exactly what she needed to do next. Her heart, however, hurt so badly she could hardly breathe.
Being pulled in two directions like this was unbearable.
Alexander still did not come home that night.
For the next three days, Elsa stayed at the hospital taking care of her mother.
Alexander never called. He never sent a single message.
Once her mother’s condition stabilized, her father told Elsa to go home and get some rest.
Late that night, half asleep, Elsa heard the bedroom door open.
A moment later, water began running in the bathroom.
Not long after that, the mattress dipped beside her. The clean scent of men’s body wash pulled Elsa slightly out of sleep.
By the time she fully realized what was happening, she was already in Alexander’s arms.
After more than a month, he had finally decided to come home.
The three of them—Alexander, Serena, and their child—must have had a wonderful month together.
Feeling the tension in Elsa’s body, Alexander knew she was awake.
His arm tightened around her waist, and he turned her to face him.
A hungry kiss fell against the sensitive skin of her neck. Beneath the covers, his hand slipped down the strap of her nightgown with practiced ease.
In three years of marriage, the only time Alexander ever treated her with this kind of tenderness and heat was in bed.
Every time she watched him lose control over her body, she had fooled herself into believing it meant he loved her too.
Instinctively catching his wandering hand, Elsa said something to him she’d never said before.
“No.”
Her voice was hoarse from crying. Alexander mistook the roughness for arousal, and his kiss became even more demanding.
He knew her body too well. He knew exactly how to make her respond, and Elsa had never been able to resist him for long.
Just as her body was about to betray her, the images flashed through her mind again—the beach, the yacht, the fireworks, the roses...
Her husband’s wedding-ringed hand around another woman’s waist.
And that caption filled with love.
Nausea rose violently in her stomach.
Elsa shoved Alexander away, leaned over the side of the bed, and retched.
The light came on, shattering every trace of intimacy in the room.
Alexander got out of bed and rubbed her back. “Are you sick?”
Elsa pushed his hand away, got up, and went straight into the bathroom.
She wasn’t sick.
He simply made her feel sick.
Alexander frowned at her back, then went downstairs to get her some water.
He never noticed her swollen eyes, her ruined voice, or the wound on her ankle.
A few minutes later, he returned to the bedroom. Elsa had already come out of the bathroom and was about to get back into bed.
Alexander held out a glass of water. “I’ll book a restaurant tomorrow. We’ll make up for the anniversary.”
No explanation. No apology.
He said it as though he were informing her of a change in his schedule.
Elsa ignored the glass and climbed into bed. “There’s no need.”
So he had remembered their third wedding anniversary.
He had remembered, and still chose to book an entire beach, celebrate with his first love, and spend the whole night setting off fireworks for their son.
From the day Elsa married him, she had personally taken care of nearly every detail of his life. She could barely stand to let him do a single household chore.
Yet for that woman and her child, Alexander had lowered himself enough to bake a blueberry cake with his own hands.
He had betrayed her. He had a five-year-old son with the woman he’d never gotten over. And somehow he could still come home and calmly try to sleep with his wife as though none of it mattered.
He could still stand in front of her without guilt and speak in that effortless, detached tone.
For the first time, Elsa realized just how hypocritical the man she’d loved for so many years could be.
Silence fell between them, hard and tense.
Then Alexander’s phone lit up.
