Chapter 3

As he slipped inside, just before the door fully closed, I clearly saw a woman stand on her tiptoes and kiss him directly.

"Leo, you're finally here," she whispered. "I was so scared alone..."

Leo didn't refuse her kiss. He deepened it, then slammed the door shut with a frantic urgency.

My blood ran cold. Leo had brazenly put his mistress right next door, a single wall separating her from me!

I stared at that tightly closed door, and fragmented images exploded in my mind.

He would press her against the door, silencing her cries with the same possessive kisses I'd begged for for five years but never received.

He would lift her into the bedroom like a precious treasure, gently peeling away her clothes...

My heart felt like it was being squeezed, the pain so intense I couldn't breathe.

I leaned against the cold wall, then drifted back home, utterly lost.

His scent still lingered in the house, but it now filled me with waves of nausea.

Looking around this home I had so carefully decorated, I suddenly felt it was meaningless.

I began to pack my things.

As I reached for my old sketchbooks, I found a planner hidden at the very bottom of the bookshelf.

I'd never seen it before.

Driven by an inexplicable impulse, I opened the first page.

In that instant, I felt myself falling into a romantic dream meticulously crafted for another woman.

There were analyses of Santorini's sunlight in different seasons, solely to choose the most beautiful time for a wedding.

There were comparisons of over a dozen top bridal brands, each page meticulously marked in red pen: *Luna's possible preferred styles.*

There were engagement ring designs drawn by his own hand, with tiny notes beside them:

*The main diamond should be her favorite cornflower blue sapphire, and the band should be paved with small diamonds, because she said she loves the sparkle of a starlit sky.*

There was even a proposal plan detailed down to the minute.

*On Luna's birthday, at the mountain observatory where they first dated, 999 drones will spell out her name in the night sky. Then, he will present flowers and the ring, promising her a lifetime under the stars.*

The last page of the booklet contained a handwritten honeymoon travel plan.

From the blue and white towns of Greece, to hot air balloons in Turkey, and then to the Northern Lights in Iceland...

I turned page after page, my fingertips numb, my body trembling.

All these years, I hadn't been without hope.

I thought Leo was just reserved, not good at expressing himself.

I thought he was too busy with work to bother with these formalities.

But now I knew: he wasn't incapable, he just wasn't capable *for me*.

He had poured all his romance, all his meticulous care, all his grand gestures into someone else.

And all he left me was perfunctory indifference and impatience.

I remembered once at a gathering with Leo's friends, after they’d had a few drinks, they egged him on to give me a proper proposal.

We had already been married for two years then.

I was a little hopeful too, my cheeks flushed as I looked at him.

But Leo just leaned lazily back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Come on, stop it. We're old married couples, why bother with all that fake stuff?"

Everyone laughed and dispersed, that small interlude quickly forgotten.

Only I, on that boisterous night, felt an emptiness inside.

Turns out, it wasn't that he didn't do "fake stuff."

He just didn't want to do it *for me*.

He poured every romantic thought, every ounce of effort he could imagine, into Luna's planner.

And all he left me was a dismissive "trouble" and "cliché."

I slowly closed the booklet, my heart aching with a sharp, prickling pain.

The tears finally broke free.

Numbly, I set aside the planner, along with that glaring condom receipt.

Through a blur of tears, I messaged my lawyer.

"Mr. Miller, are the papers ready? Send them over. I want to sign tonight."