Chapter 3

After leaving the cemetery, I hailed a taxi to the old apartment in the city center.

That used to be the home I shared with my parents. After Bruce and I got married, we lived there. The tragic incident had happened there.

Over the past six years, I had suffered severe post-traumatic stress disorder and deep depression, so I dared not set foot there.

Bruce feared that it would trigger my memories and worsen my condition if I revisited there, so he bought a luxurious riverside apartment to help me start anew.

Everyone praised him as a devoted husband who was so nice to his depressed wife and a good guy.

I used to think the same.

Now, looking back, I realized how laughable it was.

Bruce and I were getting divorced.

Before leaving this city, I wanted to return and take one last look at the place that held all my happiness and all my sorrow. It was like a formal farewell.

As the taxi turned into the alley of the old neighborhood, my heart clenched suddenly.

A black Maybach was parked downstairs. It was unmistakably familiar to me.

Wasn't Bruce supposed to be handling the emergency at the construction site in the southern suburbs?

His urgent matter was there?

I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. I thought I had run dry of tears for him.

Yet when the harsh truth confronted me once again, tears ran down uncontrollably.

With trembling hands, I dialed Bruce's number.

The phone rang for a long time before he answered. His voice sounded husky with desire. "Vera? What's wrong?"

I struggled to suppress the lump in my throat and tried to keep my voice as calm as possible. "Bruce, I... I miss Mom and Dad. I'm almost downstairs at the old apartment. I want to go up and take a look."

Instantly, the sound of clattering dishes and a sudden commotion erupted on the other end of the line.

Bruce's tone shifted to extreme panic. "No, Vera. Don't go up. You're pregnant now. You are not well. What if seeing things stirs up emotions and harms the baby? We've been through so much to have this baby. Please, be good and listen to me. Go home now. I'll be right back after handling things here."

His voice was filled with urgent concern. He seemed to genuinely care for the baby and me.

But I could only feel irony. "I'm just downstairs. I'll take a quick look and leave."

Without waiting for his response, I hung up the phone and quickly hid in the shadow of the alley wall.

In less than three minutes, the door to the apartment building opened.

Bruce emerged, holding the little boy from the video.

He was clutching Rosalyn with the other hand.

The three of them rushed out and looked flustered.

I saw clearly that Rosalyn was actually wearing a silk dress with intricate embroidery. It was my mother's favorite one.

And the little boy held my daughter's beloved rattle.

It was my home, my parents' home, the place where my daughter passed away...

But it had become the love nest of my husband and another woman.

Bruce's supposed "fear of triggering my memories and worsening my condition" and his excuse of not wanting me to go back to a place of sadness turned out to be just a convenient excuse for keeping his mistress hidden away.

I raised my phone and snapped dozens of photos of the glaring three people and the Maybach's license plate.

Watching them get in the car and flee, I leaned against the weathered wall. I couldn't support myself and slowly slid to the ground.

So, when the heart was truly broken, it became numb to pain.