Chapter 2: Thrown Out of My Own HomeA Love Story Without Me

I was jolted awake the next morning by my phone. Notifications kept popping up one after another—screenshots from social media, forwarded messages from group chats—as though everyone was afraid I might somehow miss them.

The moment I opened the first image, my breathing stopped.

Charles and Diana were standing outside the vital records office, holding their marriage certificate and smiling happily. Beneath the photo was a flood of congratulatory messages.

I kept scrolling and saw a post from Gavin. 'Getting my buddy to this day hasn't been easy. Congratulations on finally getting your wish.'

The photos included Charles, Diana, and pictures from their wedding the year before.

The moment I opened the group photo, my hand trembled.

There were so many familiar faces. Gavin was there, and so was Jessie Slater. Even my adoptive parents were there. My mother was smiling. My father stood beside her, handing someone a glass of wine.

Everyone looked completely at ease. I was the only one who had been shut out from beginning to end, like a complete joke.

I turned my phone face down on the bed, a wave of heaviness pressing against my chest.

But the phone kept ringing.

Someone in the company group chat had posted a video from the private room the night before, and they deliberately clipped out only the most chaotic part.

In the footage, I stood there looking furious. Diana was crying pitifully, while Charles stood protectively in front of her, as though he were shielding his bullied wife.

The caption was even more disgusting. 'Woman exposed for interfering in another couple's relationship throws liquor and causes a scene on the spot.'

It did not take long for people to recognise me.

'Isn't this Juliet Whitfield?'

'You really couldn't tell from how she usually acts.'

'No wonder her boyfriend never made her public. Turns out she was the homewrecker. Someone tag the mother-in-law and have her come catch the mistress!'

I sat there as my fingertips slowly went cold.

Charles knew perfectly well that I was not a homewrecker, yet he had not offered a single word of explanation. His silence was the same as admitting their accusations were true.

It took me a long time to pull myself together before I got up to wash my face.

I still had to go to the hospital to see my younger sister, Rosalie Whitfield, that day. She hadn't been doing well lately, and the last thing I wanted was for her to see any of this.

But before I could even leave, a payment reminder from the hospital popped up on my phone. There was still a shortfall in the cost of her upcoming treatment.

I stared at the string of numbers for a long time.

…

Eventually, I returned home.

It was the place Charles and I had lived in for four years. I had once put so much thought into decorating this home. I had even dreamed of paying the place off once I earned enough. Back then, I had carefully planned our future.

But there was no future anymore.

I had just stepped into the living room when I heard the door open behind me.

Charles and Diana walked in together, still dressed in the formal clothes they had worn for their wedding photos.

I stared at him, and whatever warmth remained in my heart turned completely cold. Then, I laughed. "Do you two have any idea that everyone is calling me a homewrecker now because of those photos?"

Charles frowned. "Everyone knows Diana and I have been legally married for a long time. It's just a post."

Diana spoke up as well, a trace of impatience already creeping into her voice. "Juliet, could you stop blaming everything on us? Everyone's happy for us. What's wrong with that?"

I wondered if she knew how absurd she sounded.

I took a deep breath and had nothing left to say.

"Get out."

Charles looked at me as though I had just told him a joke. "You want me to get out? I've paid for a lot of things over the years. The renovations, the property fees, the parking space, and plenty of other expenses. Do you really think you could have afforded to live here on your own? This will be mine and Diana's home from now on. If you have a problem with that, you can get out."

I stood there without moving for a long time.

I had saved the down payment for this apartment little by little after I started working.

On the day we signed the contract, my hands trembled with excitement. Charles had held me in his arms and told me that this would be our home from then on.

I had even taken a picture of the keys and sent it to Diana. She had replied, 'That's wonderful.'

As it turned out, she had been waiting for this since then.

Not wanting to argue any more, I efficiently packed up my belongings.

As I walked out the door, I heard Charles say behind me, "If you walk out that door, I won't give you another cent."

I stood inside the elevator, my fingers clenched tightly around the suitcase handle. I had bitten the inside of my mouth until I tasted blood, yet I could not feel the pain.

All I could feel was an overwhelming sense of humiliation.

Still, I left without looking back. I was determined to get as far away from their world as possible.