Chapter 2

Earlier today, Eugene had been buzzing around, planning our sixth anniversary.

He booked an entire high-end Italian restaurant, hired a violinist to play my favorite songs, and draped a diamond necklace around my neck. Standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river, we kissed like nothing else mattered.

Tonight, we were supposed to lose ourselves in each other.

Instead, while he was rummaging through the nightstand drawer for protection, I happened to glance over at his phone screen:

[Hubby, don't forget we're meeting tomorrow in the private dining room to discuss wedding plans! See you tomorrow, love you tons!]

The avatar belonged to a drop-dead gorgeous woman.

A woman I actually knew.

Her name was Felicia. She grew up next door to Eugene, another kid born with a silver spoon. Her parents were wealthy business moguls, and her family was loaded.

Ever since Felicia returned from living abroad, Eugene's parents had been trying to set them up.

Eugene had rejected dozens of women his parents pushed on him, but Felicia was the lone exception.

"We grew up together," Eugene had once explained to me. "If I flat-out reject her, it'll make things awkward for our families. We're bound to run into each other."

I believed him.

Then Felicia moved into one of Eugene's apartment complexes.

Eugene helped her buy furniture, over and over again.

Felicia invited Eugene on trips, and the two of them flew off together to Iceland, then to the Maldives.

Their lives looked effortless, romantic, and deeply intertwined. To any outsider, they looked like the perfect couple.

Honestly, I should have connected the dots long ago.

The night of our anniversary, I walked out of Eugene's place.

Before I shut the door, I took off the diamond necklace and left it on the entryway console.

In the cab on the way home, I pulled up Felicia's Ins.

Her feed was packed with snapshots of a glamorous socialite lifestyle. I scrolled down with a sinking feeling.

One photo showed her bungee jumping, wearing oversized sunglasses in a selfie.

Reflected in the lenses was a painfully familiar silhouette. You'd miss it if you weren't paying close attention. With trembling fingers, I zoomed in.

Without a doubt, it was Eugene.

That was the exact day I had fallen off my bike and badly sprained my ankle.

"Eugene, it hurts so bad. I'm sitting in urgent care getting an IV. Are you done with your meeting yet? Can you please come pick me up?"

"Babe, I'm meeting with an extremely important client today. I really can't get away."

"It's okay. Go ahead and take care of your work."

Like any normal girlfriend, the first person I thought of when I got hurt was my partner.

And like any considerate partner, I gave him space, never throwing a tantrum or questioning him.

Little did I know, Eugene wasn't pitching to a client at all. He was playing around with his childhood flame.

Scrolling further down, Felicia had posted pictures of a gold cuff and a crystal pendant, captioned:

[Great minds really do think alike. The thing I wanted most happened to be the exact gift he brought me.]

I stared closely at the designer box in the picture. It was the exact luxury jewelry brand I had once mentioned to Eugene.

Eugene had given me a piece from the same brand too.

Only mine wasn't a gold cuff. It was just a thin silver bracelet.

When I received it back then, I was moved to tears, feeling totally cherished by my boyfriend.

Now I realized my gift was just an afterthought—a little freebie he picked up on the side.

I locked my phone screen.

I couldn't stomach humiliating myself any further.

I rolled down the cab window, letting the cold night breeze hit my face, hoping it would blow away the suffocating dark clouds in my chest.