On my wedding bed, I found a piece of lingerie that did not belong to me. White lace, in a very sexy style. I searched the records on the smart lock of our new home. At two in the morning yesterday, my fiancé entered the wedding home. The time he stayed there was six hours and forty-seven minutes. Standing in the new home, I suddenly felt like the place was as cold as an ice cellar. I called Ethan Carter. It rang for a long time before he picked up, and a girl’s sweet, coy laughter came from the background. I recognized that voice; it was Mia Reed, an intern at his company. I took a deep breath and asked him, "Where were you last night?" He paused for two seconds, and his voice was so gentle there was not the slightest flaw. "At the office, rushing a proposal until dawn, and then I slept there." Hearing his weak excuse, I suddenly felt like this marriage was a joke. Ethan Carter, this wedding is off. Three months ago, I bought this apartment. Back then, Ethan held me and spun around the unfinished space again and again. "Clara, this will be our home from now on." He pointed to the balcony and said we should put a wicker chair there. "You love the sun, so in winter you can sit there and read while I make you coffee." My parents paid the down payment for the apartment, and I paid the mortgage myself. The renovation money also came from the savings I had built up over the years as a designer. But Ethan said he was a design director, so he had to handle his own wedding home personally. He drew three versions of the plans, went with me to home improvement stores, and talked to me about lighting, flow, and storage. During that time, I really thought I was marrying the right person. Only later did I learn that half of his care for this apartment was not for me. I opened a social media app and searched Mia Reed’s name. Her profile picture was a side-profile photo, and she wore a light-colored slip dress with a bracelet on her wrist. My pupils suddenly shrank. That bracelet was a gift from my mother. Last month, Ethan said we needed to shoot a short video with a "legacy"feeling on the wedding day, and he wanted to take the bracelet in advance to match it with the props. At the time, I did not think much of it. After all, we were about to get married, and my mom liked him a lot too. But now, Mia was wearing my bracelet and smiling at the camera in a video. The caption was: [My boyfriend said our new home should have traces of me in it.] In the video, she was standing at the entrance of my wedding home. She wore the slippers I bought, unboxed the dinnerware I ordered, and lit the diffuser I had carried back from overseas. Someone in the comments asked: [Girl, is this your wedding home? It’s so beautiful!] She replied: [Yeah, he said every inch of our home will be designed around my tastes.] My stomach churned. I kept scrolling down, and the more I looked, the colder I felt. Two weeks ago, she posted a video of herself testing the mattress. The bedding that flashed across the camera was the dark green silk set I had chosen. She lay on the bed and said with a smile, "He said my lower back isn’t good, so he specially changed it to a softer mattress." That day, my old back injury had flared up, and the pain was so bad I could barely stand straight. But Ethan said a client needed urgent revisions to a proposal, so he could not take me to the hospital. I took an Uber to get an X-ray by myself, and the doctor told me to rest in bed. That night, he came home and brought me a box of pasta that had already gone completely cold. He said, "Clara, I’m sorry, I was just too busy today." I even comforted him instead and told him work was important. So his so-called busyness had been bringing another woman over to test my wedding bed. I sat on the living room rug in the wedding home and went through nearly half a year of Mia’s posts. Every single one was like a knife. She seared steak in my kitchen and took photos wearing my apron. She called the coffee mugs I bought "couple mugs." She had even filmed a video with suggestive music, and the camera swept over the master bedroom, bathroom, and walk-in closet. The title was: [What does it feel like to move into the wedding home your boyfriend prepared in advance?] When I reached the end, I suddenly laughed out loud. As I laughed, tears hit my phone screen. It was not that I had never sensed something was wrong. Ethan had become busier and busier over the past six months. In the past, no matter how busy he was, he would answer my calls, but now he often went missing for an entire night and only said the next day that he had drunk too much at a business dinner and slept at a coworker’s place. In the past, he remembered what foods I avoided, but now he would put things I was allergic to on the table and then frown as he said, "Clara, don’t be so sensitive, life doesn’t have to be that complicated." It was not that I had not noticed. It was that I did not dare to believe it. Seven years of love, from school uniforms to a wedding dress. I stayed with him as he went from an assistant designer making three thousand a month to a design director at the company. When he stayed up all night rushing drawings, I sat beside him and made him coffee. When a client berated him until he broke down, I held him and said, "Ethan Carter, you’re going to make it." When his startup failed and left him in debt, I took out my savings and paid it back with him little by little. I once thought that what we had could survive time, poverty, and every storm. I never thought it would fail to survive a young girl who knew how to act sweet and admire him.
My phone rang. Ethan sent me a message. [Clara, did you go to the wedding home? The paint was just finished there, and the smell is strong, so don’t stay too long.] [I’ll come pick you up after I finish work later.] I looked at those two fake, hypocritical lines of concern, and my fingertips turned cold. I replied: [No need, I’m already back.] He quickly sent back a kissing emoji. [Good girl, after the wedding is over, I’ll spend proper time with you.] I stared at that emoji and only felt sick. I returned to the apartment where I lived and locked the door from the inside. Ethan did not come back tonight. At one in the morning, another record popped up in the lock’s backend system. Ethan had entered the wedding home. I looked at that record, and my hand shook so badly I could barely hold my phone. Five minutes later, Mia updated her feed. In the photo, two hands were folded together, and there was a faint scar on the back of the man’s hand. That scar was from when Ethan had cut himself on broken glass while saving me. Mia captioned it: [He said tomorrow will be exhausting, but tonight he still wants to stay with me.] Tomorrow was the day our two families were supposed to meet before the wedding, and it was also the day Ethan’s parents had proposed adding his name to the property deed before the wedding. I closed my eyes and suddenly calmed down completely. At six in the evening, the two families met in a private room at a hotel. My parents arrived early, and they were still carrying gifts prepared for Ethan’s parents. My mom reminded me in a low voice, "Clara, marriage is a big deal, so if something feels wrong, say it, and don’t always endure everything alone." My chest ached, and I forced a smile. When the Carter family arrived, they made quite an entrance. Ethan’s mother wore a dark red suit, and as soon as she came in, she grabbed my hand. "Clara, we’re about to be family, so I’ll just speak plainly." She said family with her mouth, but her eyes kept sweeping over my parents. Before all the dishes had even arrived, she steered the topic to the apartment. "You two have such a good relationship, and as parents, we’re happy to see it." "It’s just that for this wedding home, it really isn’t proper to have only one person’s name on it." My dad set down his coffee cup, and his tone was steady. "The apartment is Clara’s premarital property, and she is paying the mortgage herself. We have no objection to Ethan living there with her after marriage, but there is no need to add his name." Ethan’s mother’s expression darkened. "That makes it sound like we’re outsiders." "Ethan is going to spend his whole life with Clara, so isn’t it the same no matter whose name is on the apartment?" My mom smiled faintly. "If it’s all the same, then not adding it is the same too." The private room went quiet for a moment. Ethan quickly tried to smooth things over and held my hand. "Mom, let’s not talk about this today." Ethan’s mother glared at him in dissatisfaction and said, "Why not? The wedding is almost here, so if we don’t talk about it now, should we wait until there’s a fight later?" Ethan’s father also spoke up: "Clara, I’m not trying to be petty. When a man gets married, he has to have some dignity. If the home you two live in later only has your name, outsiders will think Ethan is taking advantage of you." Ethan said in a low voice, "Clara, I’m not after your apartment. It’s just that my parents do have a point. Don’t worry, after my name is added, I’ll pay the mortgage with you." I looked at him. "You’re currently paying your parents’ mortgage every month, plus a car loan and credit card bills. What are you going to use to pay it with me?" Ethan’s face stiffened. Ethan’s mother immediately frowned. "Clara, that’s an ugly thing to say. If husband and wife calculate everything so clearly, how are they supposed to live together in the future?" I gently pulled my hand back. "I’m just asking for clarity." Ethan looked at me, and there was a hint of displeasure in his eyes. In the past, as long as he said a few soft words, I would give in and step down. But today, I did not. Ethan’s mother could not help raising her voice: "Our Ethan is so outstanding, and there are plenty of girls lining up outside who want to marry him. If he weren’t sentimental about the past, why would he have dragged it out until now before getting married?" My mom’s expression changed. I held her hand down and asked calmly, "Do those girls you’re talking about include Mia Reed?"
The cutlery in Ethan’s hand fell onto the table. Ethan’s mother frowned. "Who is Mia Reed?" Ethan immediately looked at me. "Clara, what are you overthinking now? Mia is just an intern at my company." "I’ve been leading her on a project lately, so we’ve had a little more contact." There was blame in his tone, as if I were being unreasonable. I smiled. "I only asked casually, so why are you nervous?" He looked at my smile, and panic flickered in his eyes for an instant. But very quickly, he returned to being gentle. "I’m afraid you’ll misunderstand. We’re about to get married, and I don’t want someone irrelevant to affect our relationship." I lowered my head and drank my coffee without saying anything else. The meal was very tense. Before we left, Ethan’s mother still would not give up. "You two should discuss adding his name again after you go back. It would be best to handle it before the wedding, or else it won’t sound good if people ask." My dad said coldly, "No one will ask." Ethan walked me to the car. He lowered his head and looked at me, his eyes complicated. "Clara, what’s wrong with you today? Is it pre-wedding anxiety?" I looked up at him. "Ethan Carter, have you ever lied to me?" He was silent for one second, then smiled and rubbed my hair. "Silly, I wouldn’t lie to you even if I lied to anyone else." I turned sideways and avoided his hand. "I hope so." Over the next three days, I prepared for the wedding as usual. I confirmed the guest list, checked the banquet details, and revised the schedule. Ethan thought I was just throwing a small tantrum, so he started becoming especially attentive. Every day, he sent me good morning and good night messages, ordered takeout for me, and even came personally to wait for me downstairs at my apartment building. But every night after eleven, he would still appear at the wedding home. Once, he did not leave until three in the morning. Early the next morning, Mia posted a selfie video. She was wearing a men’s white shirt and drinking coffee on the bay window of my home. The caption read: [He said the wedding is just a formality, and who you love is the real answer.] Someone in the comments teased: [Your man spoils you so much, when is the wedding?] She replied: [Soon, once he finishes dealing with the trouble.] The trouble. So I was the trouble. I saved the screenshots and sent them to my lawyer friend Olivia Hayes along with the lock records, video links, and the property management surveillance request form. Olivia called me, and her tone was frighteningly cold. "This is no longer just a simple relationship dispute." "Your apartment was entered multiple times without permission, and it was also used for commercial filming and traffic generation, which involves infringement. If the bracelet is in her possession, you can also demand its return." "Also, you previously said you paid for the renovation materials, but several payments went through Ethan’s company account?" "Yes." "Then investigate it clearly. If he moved company project materials and design resources for private use, that’s enough to get him in serious trouble." I looked at the dense evidence on my computer, and finally felt a little support in my heart. The pain was still there, and so was the disgust. But I would no longer be like I had been before, only crying and asking him why. I wanted everyone to see clearly what kind of thing he really was. On the fourth day, someone took the initiative to add my contact information. The profile picture was that familiar innocent side-profile photo. There was also a message attached: [My name is Mia Reed, and I left a piece of lingerie at your place.]
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