I found out Selene Blackwood was seeing another man. I was calmer than I expected. After finding his address, I drove straight to his place, intending to confront him. But when I actually stood in the man’s living room, I froze. “This house cost a million six hundred thirty thousand, Selene paid in full, and it’s in my name.” The man’s expression was calm, as if he’d expected me. He walked out of the bedroom, holding a marriage certificate, and placed it before me. “Last month, Selene and I got married.” “So,” the man looked at me, his eyes filled with disdain, “legally, you’re the illegitimate third party.” The marriage certificate stung my eyes. I remembered, Selene and I had been together for fifteen years. Fifteen years, and no marriage certificate. Instead, I got a “third party.” 1 “Peter Holland.” The man’s fair fingers rested on Selene’s section of the marriage certificate, his tone dismissive. “You have no right to be here, and no standing to put on airs in front of me, understand?” The marriage certificate in his hand was like a trophy. He stood there, like a refined, wealthy young lord. I recognized the watch on his wrist. Selene and I had bid for it together at an auction last month. Selene had said it was my fifteenth anniversary gift. But the day before our anniversary, Selene frantically told me the bracelet was missing. Her eyes were filled with guilt, so much so that they reddened as she told me, “Darling, I’ll get you something even better.” She stroked the calluses on my hand, tears of heartache falling. “These past years, you’ve suffered so much with me. When the company successfully goes public this time, we’ll get married, okay?” “Darling,” Selene hugged me, “I want to marry you, I want to have a home with you.” I believed her. I thought Selene and I were finally reaching that point. I felt that these years with Selene, building everything from nothing, had been worth it. That I had handed in a satisfactory report card for my life and that we would live out our days peacefully. Now. I looked at the sparkling diamonds on the watch, like countless tiny needles piercing my heart, making it ache so much I could barely stand. Yet I tried to maintain my composure. “So what?” I pulled the marriage certificate from his hand, looking at “Peter Holland” written in the groom’s name section. My eyes met his flawless face and his visibly surprised expression, and I smiled. “Are you trying to tell me that after fifteen years with Selene, it’s finally my turn to step aside so you can have a good life?” “Peter,” I traced the photo on Peter’s ID, smiling, “what makes you think I’d just hand over all the hard work I’ve put in all these years?” I watched Peter visibly panic, rushing to snatch back the marriage certificate. I dodged him, and he stumbled, hitting a cabinet, letting out a sharp cry. “Adrian Owen!” “Are you insane?!” Peter finally dropped his facade, shouting at me. “Are you actually going to ruin Selene and my relationship? Are you going to be an illegitimate mistress who can’t stand the light of day?!” “Adrian Owen!” “Have you no shame?!” Before Peter could charge at me to fight, I calmly pulled out my phone, photographed the marriage certificate, and quickly sent it to Selene, telling her: “Selene.” “I heard you got married.” “Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding?” “Adrian Owen!” “Darling!” The call had already connected. In the living room, Selene’s voice echoed. “I can explain!” 2 “It’s all a misunderstanding!” “Darling!” A rustle came from Selene’s end, followed by the sound of a car door closing. “I’m coming over now to find you.” “Don’t panic.” “Let’s talk when I get there.” Selene was still talking. Peter, beyond exasperation, screamed into the phone. “Selene! Whose wife are you?! Whose side are you on?!” Peter’s desperate voice echoed in the living room. I looked around the house again. The decor was very cozy—light blue curtains, creamy white sofa, and an entire wall filled with blind boxes. Even the refrigerator had little fortune gods and couplets stuck on it. The pink cartoon slippers by the shoe rack were clearly a matching pair with the ones on Peter’s feet. Even on the pristine white walls, there were many photos of Peter, often with a few photos of Selene’s back mixed in. It was clear. The person who decorated this house had poured a lot of heart into it. A million six hundred fifty thousand. Paid in full. Peter’s name. Peter’s watch. Three million. It was supposed to be my wedding anniversary gift. And Peter’s silk pajamas, and his fair, clean hands, and the tea set on the coffee table, and the tea brand—none of it was cheap. Every item. Spoke of luxury. Every item. I looked down at my own hands, at the calluses on my palms from years of hard work, and at my clothes and shoes, worth less than a thousand dollars in total. Suddenly, I found it quite laughable, so laughable that I actually started to laugh out loud. “Selene.” I interrupted Selene’s voice. “Since you’re already married,” I glanced one last time at the marriage certificate in Peter’s arms, “then there’s nothing left to say between us.” I didn’t wait for Selene. I didn’t need to hear Selene’s explanations. I only knew. My fifteen years of effort had become a joke. Selene had made me the biggest clown in that joke. I sat in my friend’s law office, placing that marriage certificate on the table. After telling my friend everything I knew, I only asked him. “In this situation,” “How much of a chance do I have?” My tone remained calm, as if discussing everyday matters. “Selene and I started from nothing. Our company shares are equal, assets are split fifty-fifty, all transparent. But then there’s Peter.” I tapped the table, remembering the three-million-dollar bracelet and the one-point-six-million-dollar house. “I don’t want anyone to benefit unfairly.” “Walking over my blood and sweat, enjoying the fruits of my labor—there’s no such easy ride in this world, and it’s simply not right!” I told my friend. “I want them to pay the price!” “But,” my friend, though angry, still adopted a professional tone. “Your company is at a critical point for going public. A scandal right now…” “I don’t care.” “Then that’s enough!” My friend patted his chest, promising. “I will help you all the way.” 3 Emerging from the bank, I sat in the car, looking at dozens of pages of transaction records. The amounts Selene transferred to Peter ranged from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands, each followed by a note: “Voluntary gift.” My chest felt tight, a suffocating sensation gripping my throat, making my eyes sting and burn. I remembered, I too envied others who dressed up. I also, like those young men, made appointments for beauty treatments and got my hair done. I’d come home and deliberately show off in front of Selene, hoping she would compliment me for caring about my appearance. The result. Selene merely met my expectant gaze with indifference. “Darling.” “I know our lives are getting a little better,” Selene grabbed my hand, shaking her head disapprovingly. “But the worst thing a person can do is forget their roots.” “We can’t be extravagant just because things are a bit better, right?” “What if things get tough again someday? How will you adapt?” “Darling,” Selene hugged me close, “I still like you simple.” All my expectations turned into smoke. Selene’s words, like a bucket of cold water, drenched me head to toe, leaving me stunned, even forgetting to react. I just watched as Selene unceremoniously smashed my only bottle of perfume, saying, “What’s the use of something so impractical?” Yes. Impractical things. What good are they? But Peter, dressed in impractical finery, looked like he belonged to another world, perfect, like a young lord from a wealthy family. The laughable thing was, every penny spent on Peter’s adornments came from my blood, sweat, and tears over the years. Why? Tears still fell uncontrollably. I wiped them away fiercely. Seeing Selene’s persistent calls, I finally answered. “Darling?” “You finally picked up!” “Thank goodness!” Selene’s anxious voice came through. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where have you been? Can we talk about everything face-to-face, please?” “Adrian, we’ve been together for fifteen years!” “Not fifteen days! You can’t hide from me like this—” “Selene.” I suppressed the ache in my throat, my voice still calm. “Let’s meet.” I told Selene. “At that house in Northside, let’s meet.” The other end clearly froze. A few seconds of silence. “Alright.” “Darling, I’ll head over now,” Selene’s voice was surprised, yet relieved. “I’ll pick up the soup dumplings from your favorite place and bring them!” Before I could refuse, Selene had already hung up. I turned to meet my friend’s worried gaze. “I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “Don’t worry.” It had been almost five years since Selene and I moved out of that house. I looked at the now weathered, old door and remembered how, when we first moved here from the basement, Selene and I had lovingly decorated this house together. Selene had said then, “Darling, this is our first home. It means something different!” “Later, when we’re old, if you’re willing, we’ll come back here to retire!” “Every year, we’ll come back to stay for a few days, okay?” At the time, my heart was full of joy, feeling my life was truly worthwhile. Now, just a few years later. Everything had changed. 4 I pushed open the door. Selene was already up from the sofa. “Darling!” Selene, like a child seeking praise, picked up the prepared soup dumplings and handed them to me. “They’re still warm.” Before, I always said I loved soup dumplings, loved how Selene would queue up for them before dawn every day. Later, when I mentioned soup dumplings again, Selene only offered dismissive excuses. “Adrian.” “Time is money. How can I have so much leisure time to queue for so long just to buy you dumplings?” Now, the soup dumplings reappeared before me, but somehow, they no longer looked so appetizing. “Selene.” I ignored Selene’s eagerness, walked past her, and sat on the sofa. The old sofa groaned, incomparable to Peter’s. “Do you remember this sofa?” I looked at Selene. “You and I went to the secondhand market and spent two days looking for it.” “Because we couldn’t afford to hire someone to deliver it,” I said, as if recounting a trivial matter, “I borrowed a handcart. You held the armrest, and we brought it home together in forty-degree summer heat, taking two and a half hours.” “Back then, you said this sofa, no matter how much money we had, could never be replaced.” “It was proof of our love.” Selene’s eyes flickered, unwilling to meet mine. I simply picked up the remote control from the coffee table. The remote was wrapped in tape; Selene had accidentally dropped it when she was drunk. I couldn’t bear to replace it, so I bought tape and wrapped it. I traced the tape on the remote. “But the truth is, things have changed, haven’t they?” “No, they haven’t!” Selene rushed to me, explaining. “It’s not like that!” Selene’s eyes reddened, just like every time before; whenever she was anxious, her eyes would well up. “Peter and I were an accident!” “I don’t love him!” “I swear!” Selene half-knelt before me, reaching to take my hand, but I turned away, watching her eyes flash with hurt, then she spoke. “I was drunk at the dinner party. I don’t even know how Peter ended up at the hotel. When I woke up, I was actually scared! I didn’t lie to you!” Selene’s tears fell. “I was afraid you’d find out and break up with me, that you’d be angry. I didn’t know how to face you!” “I just—” “How long?” “What?” “How long,” my voice remained flat, “have you been with Peter?” Selene suddenly fell silent. She met my eyes, watching me for a long time before speaking with difficulty. “Three and a half years.” I remembered Selene saying she wanted to come back and stay for a few days every year. But later, Selene always said she didn’t have time. Turns out, it wasn’t that she didn’t have time. It was just that all her time was spent elsewhere, given to someone else. My heart ached, and then I heard Selene explain further. “I wanted to break up, but Peter clung to me. He kept saying his family wasn’t well off, that his parents loved his brother more. I just felt sorry for him…” Selene’s voice trailed off. In the end, even she lacked the conviction to utter those final words. “Also.” “I’m pregnant.” It was like a dull clap of thunder exploding in my ears. I clenched my fists tightly. Even though I had learned the full truth before coming, hearing it firsthand still made me feel chilled to the bone. While I was eagerly anticipating my wedding with Selene, Selene had already given someone else an identity, making me the outsider. Now, I listened to Selene say, “I thought you were getting older, and IVF would be hard on your body…” Getting older. Hard on my body. How ridiculous. “So,” Selene looked at me, “I want to have this child. It’s for your own good too.” For my own good. My fingernails dug into my flesh, but I felt no pain. I listened as Selene continued. “Just forgive me! I’ll agree to anything!” “Really?” I suppressed my surging anger, meeting Selene’s gaze. “Really!” I suddenly smiled, rising from the sofa and walking to the door. I opened it, meeting the person outside with an even wider smile. “So, do you understand now?” “Who’s the other woman?” I looked at Peter, then pulled out my phone again, facing my friend who was still on video call. “This video, no editing. Have the media release it verbatim!” “No matter how much money it costs, I want maximum impact!” Then. I was suddenly pulled hard by the wrist, yanked backward, and met Selene’s furious gaze, smiling. “Selene.” “When you do wrong.” “You can’t get away unscathed.” “Are you satisfied with this answer?”
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