Chapter 2Silent Snow in the Seventh Year

My phone vibrated, a new message from Eric flashing on the screen.

Go back with the assistant. I’ll explain later.

I stared at the terse message, my heart twisting. Finally, I couldn't hold back, typing: Why did you lie to me?

Eric’s reply was cold: Just go back. Behave. Don't make a scene at the office entrance.

It hit me then. Every time I’d suggested visiting Seaview City, he’d found an excuse to put me off. He was afraid of me showing up, afraid of being exposed, afraid of his embarrassment.

I looked up to see a huddle of employees, their phones out, filming me.

“The mistress dares to show up? How shameless!”

“So young, so many other things to do, but she chose to be a home-wrecker.”

I quickly raised my hand to cover my face, my voice choked with sobs. “I’m not a mistress! Eric lied to me…”

All I got in return was a chorus of laughter.

The assistant grabbed my suitcase and almost shoved me into a waiting car. Thirty minutes later, it pulled up to a sprawling villa. Eric, who’d told me he was cramped in a tiny rented apartment, lived here. I’d even worried he wasn’t doing well in Seaview City, sending him half my salary every month.

The assistant pushed me inside, and I heard the click of the lock as the door shut behind me. “You can wait for Mr. Hillman here.”

A faint scent of perfume hung in the air. I’d smelled it on Eric a few months ago, when he’d visited Fairview. I turned, and my blood ran cold.

On the living room wall hung a colossal wedding photo. Eric, in a black suit, embraced Clara, who was radiant in a white gown. The date in the bottom right corner screamed at me. The day they took their wedding photos was also my birthday. The first birthday Eric hadn't spent with me. He'd said work was too demanding, he couldn't get away.

Frantically, I rushed into the bedroom. The walls were covered with photos of Eric and Clara. In the closet, a slinky lace nightgown hung next to Eric’s shirts. The dresser overflowed with luxury brand cosmetics.

The last sliver of hope shattered completely when I saw the almost-empty box of condoms on the nightstand.

So, Eric's "busy" meant building a family with another woman.

I sank to the cold floor, burying my face in my hands, crying uncontrollably.

I hadn’t come from much. My parents were farmers, and I’d fought tooth and nail to get into a big city university. Any moment I wasn’t in class, I was working part-time off-campus, which was how I met Eric. I was a scholarship student from the countryside, he was a rebellious heir who’d fled his family’s expectations. We had no family support, only ourselves. Months later, we were a couple, and our classmates had jokingly called us the "struggling sweethearts." We truly were broke back then.

But for every birthday, Eric would somehow scrape enough money together to buy me a gift I loved. He’d eat only two meals a day just to save up for a branded lipstick. He always said, “Other girls have these things, and you shouldn’t go without.” No matter how tough things got, he always made sure I was cared for.

After graduation, I stayed in Fairview, while Eric moved to Seaview City. I rented a discounted apartment in Fairview, just eight hundred a month. Eric came back every weekend. We’d lose ourselves in each other in the darkness, the old bed creaking under our weight. He’d kissed away the tears from my eyes, his voice hoarse, promising, “Elara, once my job is stable, I’ll marry you.”

To save enough for our wedding, I worked relentlessly, often staying late until two in the morning. Eventually, my body gave out, and I collapsed at work. When Eric found out I was sick, he immediately took time off and rushed to the Fairview hospital. He’d cursed me for being foolish, then gripped my hand, his eyes red-rimmed. Eric had tried to take more leave to stay and care for me, only to be torn apart by his superiors. It was the first time I’d seen him so humbled, a bitter smile on his face. I’d begged him to go back to work, not to worry about me. But he’d looked at me, utterly serious. “Elara Ewing, nothing is more important to me than you.”

In that moment, I believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that Eric loved me. And it was that unwavering belief in his love that carried me through seven long years.