At midnight, Tiffany sent me a string of photos each more provocative than the last.
Every shot was carefully curated: the seaside villa, the candlelit dinner, her coy smile and Damon’s familiar figure beside her under warm golden lights.
They looked so close, so intimate, that anyone would assume they’d already slept together. I didn’t bother looking through them all. Instead, I forwarded the whole batch to Damon.
Two minutes later, he exploded in my inbox.
“I told you we’re just friends. Can’t friends have dinner together?”
“Elena, being married to you is suffocating!”
“Suffocating? Is it me who’s suffocating you, or are you just angry you got caught crossing the line?”
Right then, Leo messaged me: [Wait for me. I’ll complete the task within three days.]
I replied with a simple OK, my head spinning, heavy with fever and emotion. Sleep took me before I knew it.
The next morning, my phone buzzed nonstop. It was another message from Damon left sometime during the night:
[I was too harsh. Don’t take it to heart.]
[Tiffany is just a friend. You’re my wife. How could you even compare yourself to her?]
[Be good. Come back home.]
I didn’t bother replying. I deleted the messages and blocked his number without hesitation. I forced myself to eat some breakfast, but every bite tasted like ash.
When I took my temperature, the thermometer read 39°C, a high fever. I dragged myself to the hospital to get medicine.
As I was standing at the payment counter, a sudden commotion erupted nearby.
“Doctor, please! Save my girlfriend first, she’s pregnant!”
The voice struck me like a bolt of electricity. Familiar. Urgent.
I turned slowly and there he was. Damon, disheveled and wild–eyed, rushing into the ER with Tiffany in his arms. His shirt was half–open, hair a tangled mess like a bird’s nest.
He looked like a man in total panic.
The receptionist told me the payment system was down and asked me to wait. So I sat on a bench in the corridor and overheard the nurses gossiping nearby.
“Did you see that girl just now?”
“I heard she and her boyfriend stuck a lightbulb inside her… can you believe that?”
“These young people are insane, nothing is off–limits anymore!”
I felt nauseated literally. I clutched my stomach and almost vomited. When the staff finally told
me I could check out, I paid as fast as I could. All I wanted was to get away.
But just as I turned to leave, our eyes met. Damon froze in place, his face draining of color.
He Lie Me. i Left Him and Married Another Rich Man
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“Elena? You… why are you here?”
I said nothing. I turned and kept walking. But he rushed after me and grabbed my wrist, his tone sharp and accusing.
“Did you follow me here just to humiliate me?”
“Have you been spying on me this whole time?” He even pulled out his phone to check it, muttering darkly,
“I knew it. You must’ve installed some kind of eavesdropping app…”
I yanked my hand free. “Stop flattering yourself.”
His movement knocked the medicine from my grasp. The bottle clattered to the ground and he glanced down–his expression shifting.
“Fever meds?”
“Elena… you have a fever? Why didn’t you tell me?” He reached out, trying to feel my forehead, but I pushed him away coldly.
“Aren’t you busy playing house with Tiffany? My health is none of your concern.”
Damon exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples.
“You’ve misunderstood. I told you, Tiffany and I are just…”
Before he could finish, a nurse called from the ER, “Who’s the family member of Tiffany?” Without thinking, Damon replied, “I am!”
That one sentence cut deeper than anything else. I smiled bitterly, a twisted sort of resignation curling at my lips.
Still trying to play both sides. As if to make things better, he shoved a small gift box into my
hands.
“This is for you. I got it to apologize. Please take it… I’ll come find you once I’m done here.”
I stared down at the box, then at the man who used to be my husband. He was already turning
away.
And I realized whatever was left of “us” had already crumbled.
2:50 am MA
Chapter 5
