Chapter 2

Their prolonged, passionate embrace sent a shiver down my spine, leaving me motionless in the dark corner. My chest felt like it was made of delicate crystal, fracturing with every hushed sound of their intimacy. I dug my nails into my palms to control the shaking in my hands, biting my tongue to prevent any sounds from escaping. When I finally decided to retreat, my footsteps were as quiet as my crumbling emotions.

The journey back was unbearable. Ray insisted Christine take the front seat, claiming she got motion sickness. I was forced into the back, squeezed between a jumble of messy shopping bags, fragrance testers, and discarded receipts. The subtle scent of Christine's perfume permeated the car, sickeningly sweet, a constant reminder of her presence.

"Susan," Christine said, her voice dripping with false concern, "these items are quite fragile and costly. Be careful not to harm them."

Her words were a thinly veiled insult. I tried to respond, but Ray interrupted before I could utter a word.

"Susan," he said, feigning cheerfulness, "I brought you something from my overseas trip."

Christine chimed in, her tone bright and possessive. "It's in the second bag by the window. The others are mine—don't mix them up."

I searched through the bags, feeling like an outsider in my own space. As Christine's chatter filled the air, my hand touched something soft. I pulled out a piece of black mesh fabric, barely enough to cover anything. My throat constricted.

"Ray," I said softly, holding the fabric between two fingers. "Is this meant for me?"

Ray's face paled. "Susan, that's not—"

Before he could finish, Christine let out an exaggerated gasp, her face flushing with fake embarrassment. "Oh dear, how could you rummage through someone else's things like that?" she teased, snatching the fabric from my grasp. "That's a present from my boyfriend."

Her words hung in the air like a noose, tightening around my chest. I felt trapped, as if the car was closing in on me. Ray's silence was deafening.

Finally, I found the "gift" intended for me—a plain silver bracelet, so uninspired and cheap that it felt like an afterthought. As I held it, the truth hit me like a tidal wave: everything Ray had ever given me, every trinket I had treasured, was merely Christine's leftovers.

"Do you like it?" Ray asked, his voice tinged with guilt. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his expression guarded.

I stared at the bracelet before forcing myself to respond. "You don't need to give me presents."

Christine seized the opportunity, her voice sweet yet venomous. "Oh, Susan," she said, turning slightly to face me. "Your husband works so hard to earn money. A housewife like you, who spends all day in the kitchen, should be grateful for any bracelet to wear. Why be so choosy?"

As she spoke, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, deliberately showing off the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The sparkling stones mocked me, as did the faint red marks scattered across her neck—undeniable proof of their activities during this "business trip." My stomach turned.

"It's fine," Ray said, trying to smooth things over. "Since Susan doesn't like it, we can choose another one for her at the mall tonight." His tone was confident, as if this would resolve everything. He even exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Christine.

I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat and replied, my voice quivering with suppressed emotion. "No need. Didn't you promise you'd always be by my side? Ray, let's go home."

The words hung heavy in the air, a challenge disguised as a request. Through the rearview mirror, I saw him reach out to touch Christine's hand, his fingers brushing hers in a gesture meant to reassure her. Then, reluctantly, he nodded.

"Alright," he said. "Let's go home."

For a brief moment, hope flickered within me—a fragile light in the darkness. But the moment we arrived, it was extinguished. Christine exited the car without hesitation, her demeanor as confident as if she owned the place. Ray followed her to the door, kneeling to help her change into a pair of slippers.

I stood frozen in the entryway, watching in disbelief as the man I loved lavished attention on another woman. Christine, clinging to his arm like a victorious conqueror, pointed at the master bedroom and announced, "I'll sleep there tonight. I'm quite particular about beds," her smile as bright as the morning sun.

Her boldness left me speechless. I turned to Ray, searching his face for a hint of guilt, a trace of remorse. Instead, he offered me a weak explanation.

"Susan, don't misunderstand," he said, his tone placating. "What Christine means is that her bed at home is the same model as yours."

It was a feeble, pathetic lie and he knew it. Swallowing the surge of anger rising within me, I blinked back tears and asked, my voice trembling, "Today is my birthday. Why did you bring her here?"

Ray didn't flinch. His expression remained infuriatingly calm as he replied, "I just got word that there were some obsessive fans outside Christine's house. It's dangerous for her to return now. As her boss, I have a duty to ensure her safety."