Chapter 2

James and I had a honeymoon phase at first.

When I was a teenager, I nearly died in a hurricane. It was James who pulled me from the rubble.

Back then, he was like a bolt of lightning, and I couldn't take my eyes off him.

I fell in love with him at first sight.

But at the time, he was dating his childhood sweetheart, Rebecca.

All I could do was bury my love for him and silently wish them well.

Later, Rebecca, who prized wealth over love, left him for a rich heir and went to Europe right when James was at his lowest, after his parents had died in a car crash. Under the weight of this double blow, James developed severe PTSD.

During his episodes, he would either hurt others or himself.

I ignored my parents' objections and stayed by his side through his treatment, never leaving him.

Once, in the grip of a nightmare, he mistook me for a threat and kicked me so hard he fractured my ribs, landing me in the hospital for a month.

The day he recovered, he held me, crying his eyes out, and swore in front of my parents that he would treat me well for the rest of his life.

I believed him, but just two years into our marriage, Rebecca returned from abroad.

The rich heir had grown tired of her and dumped her. She came to James, looking pitiful and vulnerable, crying that she had severe bipolar disorder and had only left for treatment abroad in silence because she didn't want to hurt him during a manic episode.

James believed her without a shred of doubt and began to treat me with cold indifference.

A single phone call from Rebecca, and no matter how late, he would run through a blizzard just to be with her.

He went from patiently explaining things to me, to being completely indifferent, and finally, to lashing out with cruel words.

My phone was filling up with more and more provocative and insulting photos and videos from Rebecca.

When I showed them to James, Rebecca would start sobbing in anguish, murmuring distractedly into the air, “James, why does everyone hate me? It’s so exhausting to be alive… Do you think if I turned into a snowflake, I could stay by your side forever?”

James would pull her into a tight, panicked embrace, his eyes sweeping over me, cold with disgust and contempt. “Are you done with your act? Should I give you an Emmy Award, you brainless idiot?”

“Rebecca is so gentle and kind. She'd rather suffer the torment of her anxiety than be a burden to me. A vicious bitch like you could die a hundred times and still not be worth a single one of her fingernails.”

After that, it was like something clicked for Rebecca.

Every time James and I were alone for more than half an hour, she would suddenly have an emotional breakdown, claiming she couldn't stop herself from doing “something crazy.”

Her threats were a revolving door of clichés: climbing onto a rooftop, running into traffic, swimming out into the deep sea.

Her self-harm was just as performative: shattered mirrors, superficial scratches on her arms, disappearing late at night.

And every single time, James fell for it. Every single time, he would abandon me and rush to her side without a moment's hesitation.

So much so that Rebecca never imagined in her wildest dreams that the last time she took it too far, James would choose to save me after I was crushed by a cedar tree, while she, for lack of timely medical attention, froze to death outside the hospital.

Having narrowly escaped death, I clung to James, sobbing uncontrollably. He gently comforted me, saying that as long as our baby and I were safe, nothing else mattered.

After a few days of being downcast, he went back to work as if nothing had happened. Later, he even took a long leave of absence to devote all his time to caring for me during my pregnancy.

I was completely immersed in the bliss of having him back, utterly unaware that his tenderness was all a facade, designed only to deliver a devastating blow and avenge Rebecca.

He kicked my stomach, again and again. Even after seeing blood and amniotic fluid pool on the floor, his rage was still not satisfied.

He dragged me in front of Rebecca’s memorial portrait, grabbed my hair, and slammed my head against the wall until I was bruised and bleeding.

His expression was a hideous mask, like that of a demon crawling up from the depths of hell.

All I had done was call out to my husband for help in a moment of life and death. I didn't know what monstrous crime I had committed to deserve such torture.

With his crimson eyes looking as if they might bleed, James pressed himself against my ear and snarled through gritted teeth, “You provoked Rebecca, drove her to suicide, then orchestrated being hit by that tree to get me away from her, leaving her to die in agony and despair. This was all your elaborate plan, wasn't it?”

I wanted to explain that I hadn't.

But he gave me no chance to speak, roaring as his hands closed around my throat.

“You bribed that lawyer to sue me! To get the lawsuit dropped, Rebecca went to sleep with that man, but you were the one who spread those humiliating photos of her everywhere! You drove her to her death! It’s all written clearly in Rebecca's diary. How dare you try to deny it!”

“After killing Rebecca, what right do you have to live? You deserve to feel her pain tenfold, a hundredfold.”

He dragged me up like a lifeless dog and tied me to a chair. He picked up a syringe and injected vial after vial of insulin into my veins.

My body was a canvas of purple bruises from the countless injections. He then grabbed the hot water kettle and poured all the boiling water into my mouth.

“If it weren't for that damn, lying mouth of yours, Rebecca would still be alive!”

My skin was scalded and split open, and by the end, I couldn't even make a sound.

“Don't you dare waste a single drop. This is the debt you owe Rebecca!”

He viciously clamped a hand over my bleeding mouth, forcing every last drop of insulin into my veins.

In less than ten minutes, my body was wracked with convulsions, my eyes rolling back in my head, and I quickly fell unconscious.

James watched my agony with cold indifference, laughing like a madman as he screamed, “You deserve this! When you get to hell, you'll get on your knees and apologize to Rebecca!”

It wasn't until I was on the brink of death that I finally realized just how laughably foolish I had been.

No matter how I poured my heart and soul out for him, it could never compete with one of Rebecca's pathetic sob stories or a lie riddled with holes."