Chapter 3

The next day, Ethan went to the office.

I didn’t go to work.

I walked to the study door and tried the handle.

It wasn't locked.

Ethan had a habit: he didn’t like anyone touching his things, especially the safe at the very bottom of his desk.

He said it contained the company’s core secrets.

I used to believe him implicitly, even carefully avoiding it when I cleaned.

But today, I wanted to open it.

I knelt in front of the safe, looking at the keypad.

Six digits.

I typed in my birthday.

A red light blinked; incorrect password.

I typed in our anniversary.

Incorrect password.

I typed in Ethan’s own birthday.

Still incorrect.

I paused for a long time, my finger hovering, trembling slightly.

Then, I took out my phone and pulled up Sera’s account.

Two years ago, she had posted a birthday video; the date was October 27th.

I took a deep breath and pressed 102799 (she was born in ‘99).

Click.

A green light illuminated, and the heavy metal door sprang open.

In that instant, I felt something inside me shatter.

Inside the safe, there were no company confidential documents.

No multi-million dollar contracts.

Only a few exquisitely crafted storage boxes.

I opened the first box.

Inside was a thick stack of ballet performance tickets.

Every single one was for Sera’s performances.

The dates ranged from three years ago all the way up to last month.

On the 15th of last month, Ethan told me he was going to London for a business trip to discuss a crucial merger.

But the location on that ticket was the Paris Opera House.

I opened the second box.

Inside was a thick stack of boarding passes.

Ethan’s name and Sera’s name were printed side-by-side.

Destinations spanned the globe.

I thought he was working hard for our future, countless nights I worried about his exhaustion.

It turned out he was just traveling the world with another woman.

The last box contained a sketchbook.

I opened it.

Inside were all his hand-drawn designs.

Wedding dresses, evening gowns, everyday wear.

The bottom right corner of each one read: [To my little swan, Sera.]

The very last drawing was of that million-dollar haute couture wedding dress.

The note beside it read: [Waist 23 inches, Bust 31.5 inches. She's too thin; add a few layers of silk so it doesn't look flimsy.]

My waist was 25 inches, my bust 34.5 inches.

No wonder I couldn’t wear it.

No wonder he thought I was "lacking exercise."

I put everything back into the safe exactly as I found it and closed the door.

When I stood up, my vision blurred, and I had to hold onto the desk for a long time to steady myself.

Three years.

Over a thousand days and nights.

I thought I was the most intimate person in his life.

It turned out I didn't even have the right to enter the most secret corners of his heart.

I was just a shield.

A perfect fiancée he used to appease his parents and the outside world when he couldn't openly marry Sera.

I pulled out my phone and called my best friend, Chloe Green.

“Chloe, are you free for lunch? Let’s meet up.”

“What’s wrong? Your voice is so hoarse, do you have a cold?”

“No,” I looked at the sunlight outside the window. “I just feel like it’s time for me to wake up.”