Chapter 6

Approximately sixty minutes later, I received a message from my spouse's lover asking me to unlock the entrance.

When I opened the door, I was greeted by a sight of 999 blooms.

I clenched my teeth and began stomping on them furiously, smashing them beneath my feet.

I continued until the petals were pulverized, scattered across the floor like a sea of crimson carnage, leaving me too exhausted to remain standing.

My phone vibrated once more—another text from her arrived.

This time, she shared an image of their evening meal: an elegantly arranged table, softly flickering candles, and a homemade dessert.

I spotted my husband's hand in the picture, still adorned with his wedding band.

I staggered back to the living area, seized the remaining bottle of bourbon, and consumed it in one swift motion.

I collapsed onto the sofa in a drunken state and contacted the realtor managing the island property.

That ridiculous island. Once a symbol of our joy, it now only filled me with disgust.

Upon concluding the call, I lost consciousness on the couch.

I awoke to the gentle pressure of well-known lips against mine.

Heather's breath carried a faint hint of cream.

"What's with all these cancellation messages? What did you cancel?"

There was a hint of anxiety in his tone.

I sat up and leaned away, creating distance between us. My voice was steady, almost emotionless.

"Oh, it's nothing. Just scanned some random QR codes yesterday. Thought I'd cancel them before they tried to scam me."

I looked towards the entrance. The carnage of roses from the previous night had already been cleared by the housekeeping staff.

I exhaled softly in relief.

"Did you complete your work?"

He nodded. His shoulders relaxed at my answer before he headed to the kitchen to prepare our morning meal.

I reached for my phone to check on the island sale, but instead noticed a trending post online. A random commenter who had previously criticized Jennifer had now written an extensive, dramatic apology.

The reason? Jennifer had just been announced as the new ambassador for a high-end brand.

Breakfast tasted bland, and Heather didn't seem to be enjoying it either.

He spent most of the meal focused on his phone, a slight, unreadable smile playing on his lips.

As we finished eating, he suddenly tensed. When he spoke, his voice was rough.

"Honey, something urgent came up at the office. I need to leave. Don't worry about cleaning up—I'll take care of it later."

Before I could respond, he had already slipped on his shoes and was out the door.

He was in such a rush that he forgot to remove his apron.

He didn't even have time to inquire about my drinking the night before.

Well, I suppose there's only so much room in one's heart. Once someone else moves in, there's no space left for you.

Barely five minutes after his departure, Jennifer's name appeared on my phone screen again.

This time, it was a photo of two sets of intimate apparel laid out on a bed—one in black, one in white.

[Hey! Which do you think I should wear? If it were your husband, which would he prefer?]

I didn't bother to reply. I was too occupied with packing.

By the time I finished, every trace of my presence had vanished from the villa.

En route to the airport, I received a message from Heather.

[You sold the island? Why? What's happening?]

I typed my response: [Make sure you're home to receive my gift. Oh, and Heather? You've run out of chances.]

Then, I powered off my phone, removed the SIM card, and discarded it in the nearest bin.

As I boarded the plane, I felt unburdened.