Chapter 2

Only after I got the confirmation did the knot in my chest loosen a little.

Once the alcohol had cleared a bit from my head, I hailed a cab and went back.

I switched on the lights. Everything in the wedding house was exactly the way I'd left it that morning.

On the entryway wall was a sticky note in Otto's own handwriting.

【It's raining today. Don't forget your umbrella, dummy.】

Beside the TV stand sat a photo of the two of us.

His arm was looped around my neck, and he was flashing a peace sign at the camera.

The throw pillows on the couch were still pushed together. Just yesterday we'd leaned against them watching the World Cup, arguing our heads off because we were rooting for different teams.

All of it felt like a dream.

Now the dream was over.

I opened the cabinet and started packing.

The phone in my pocket buzzed.

My mom had sent a photo.

"Sandy, what do you think of this outfit for tomorrow?"

She scrimped and saved on everything and never spent more than a hundred dollars on clothes, but the dress she had on now still had its tag showing: $1,888.

I thought for a moment, then typed back.

"Mom, don't come tomorrow. The wedding's off."

"I'll book you a tour package. Go away for a couple of days, clear your head."

The next second, the phone rang.

There was something careful in my mom's voice.

"Why is it suddenly off? Is it because our family's not well-off enough, and the Delgados backed out?"

I kept my head down, thinking of the first time our parents met.

My mom dressed plainly, but she was neat and clean.

Joan Delgado kept turning the jade bangle on her wrist, her eyes cutting my mom over, head to foot, like a knife carving her up.

"A wild hen that flew out of some dirt-poor village, and now she wants to perch on a golden branch and play the phoenix."

"Fooling around is fine. But marriage? No."

Otto had held my hand then, standing firmly in front of me.

"Mom, Sandra isn't the type to climb for money."

To make the Delgados give in, I worked myself to death, saved, and clawed my way up.

Pulling all-nighters, drinking at business dinners until my stomach bled, shoving supplements into my mouth by the handful.

Finally, at the start of this year, on the strength of one million dollars in my bank account, I pried open the Delgados' door.

A million isn't much, but it proved I could live without leaning on Otto's money.

And now the place I'd traded my health for, he'd handed to Eugenia with a single sentence.

The thought made my nose sting.

"Something just came up between us."

"Don't worry. I can handle it."

After I hung up, I stuffed the last piece of clothing into my suitcase, peeled the sticky note off the wall, and threw it in the trash.

Last of all I took the wedding photo down from the headboard, wrapped it up, and wheeled it on a cart to the garbage station.

Just as I finished all of it, Otto opened the door and came in.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking out the trash."

He glanced at my suitcase and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Trying to threaten me by running away from home?"

I stopped and looked up at him.

"You're overthinking it. I'm just clearing space for the newlyweds."

He gave a short scoff and threw out an arm to block me.

"Since you want to leave, shouldn't you leave behind everything I gave you?"

"I don't want you and your lover getting anything cheap out of me."

I stood where I was, gripping the handle of the suitcase.

"I didn't cheat. That night——."

Otto didn't believe it.

"A machine isn't a person. It can't lie."

"But the person running the machine can fake it."

His face went cold.

"Eugenia is your best friend, not some scapegoat you can throw under the bus to save face."

In the end, I crouched down in front of him and pulled the zipper open.

Inside there was nothing but everyday items and a change of clothes.

"Done checking?"

Otto walked up to me and tipped his chin at me from above.

Following his gaze, I saw the red string on my wrist.

He'd gone to a temple to get it back during the pandemic, when my fever wouldn't break. For that, he'd willingly climbed nine hundred and ninety-nine steps.

When he tied it onto my wrist, his eyes were frighteningly red, and he was still murmuring under his breath.

"Sandra, you have to get better. Healthy and well. We're going to live to a hundred together."

Now he wanted even this back.

I clicked the zipper into the suitcase's lock, walked to the entryway, picked up the scissors, slid them into the gap between my wrist and the string, and pressed down hard.

The red string was cut clean through, and it dropped heavily to the floor.