Chapter 1Seven Years of Love: All a Lie

On my wedding day, my childhood sweetheart Heather refused my ring. She fled in her wedding dress and drove off with Julian.

The shock killed my mother, who was already ill.

Only Serena, another childhood friend, stayed with me. She pulled me from despair, and we later married.

For seven years, we were deeply in love. When she became pregnant, I was overjoyed.

But on New Year’s Eve, I saw a message on her phone:

“What if Tim learns the baby is Julian’s?”

Serena replied calmly, “He won’t. After the birth, I’ll leave Julian and love Tim as compensation.”

I stood trembling.

Seven years—all a lie.

She never loved me.

If that’s true, I’ll walk away and let them be.

* * *

Not long after I placed the phone back where I found it, Serena emerged from the bathroom.

I lay in bed, pretending to watch TV.

A cloud of her perfume drifted over me.

She looked at me, her eyes full of affection, and trailed a silky hand across my chest.

"Tim," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "It must have been hard for you, having to wait all these weeks."

As her lips, red and lush, descended toward mine, I pushed her away.

Serena stared, utterly shocked.

"Tim, what's wrong?"

In all our years of marriage, it was the first time I had ever rejected her advances.

"I just don't want to hurt the baby," I said, my voice flat.

Her expression softened slightly. "I asked the doctor. The baby is stable now. As long as we're gentle, it's perfectly fine."

She moved closer again, her cheeks flushed, an irresistible invitation. Her eyes were pools of liquid tenderness.

The old me would have been lost in them, completely undone.

But now, all I felt was the biting cold of an arctic sea, utterly devoid of warmth. This was my wife, the woman I loved, and she was carrying another man's child.

The thought was a blade twisting in my gut.

I pushed her away a second time. "Not tonight. I'm exhausted."

She didn't press the issue. "You must be tired from work. Let's just get some sleep, then."

She switched off the TV and the lights, then curled up beside me, her arm wrapped around my waist. It was her favorite way to sleep. Within minutes, she was breathing softly.

But my mind was a raging storm. I didn't sleep a wink.

Later, in the dead of night, once I was sure she was sound asleep, I slipped out of bed and went to the study. I opened her laptop.

It was the first time I had done so in seven years.

It didn't take long to find the hidden folder.

I clicked it open. Inside were thousands of photos.

Tokyo, Paris, Istanbul… In every picture, Julian and Serena were wrapped in a blissful embrace, their faces glowing with a happiness I had never seen.

I scrolled to the very last photo.

The date stamp was three days ago. The location: a maternity clinic in Hong Kong. Julian was pressing his face against Serena's gently swelling stomach, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks.

Behind them, a sign on the wall was stark and clear.

"Congratulations, You're Going to Be a Dad!"

Staring at the photo, my heart plunged into a black abyss.

That day, Serena had told me she was going to Hong Kong to meet a client. I’d offered to go with her, worried about her traveling while pregnant.

She had laughed it off, explaining that the client was a woman with a peculiar dislike for strange men. My presence, she’d said, would almost certainly kill the deal.

I believed her.

Only now did I realize there was no female client. It was a prenatal check-up with Julian.

I closed the laptop and walked out onto the balcony. I chain-smoked until the sky began to bleed with the gray light of dawn.

My decision was made.

This picture-perfect marriage was over.

And I was done with Serena.