Chapter 1

I had been with Ethan for three years, and he had one unbreakable habit.

Every night at ten-thirty, he would send me a sixty-second voice memo. It was always him reading romantic poems or classic prose.

I treasured those voice memos like they were priceless gold. I saved every single one in a Snapchat folder named "Ethan’s Lullabies."

I really thought it was his own special, romantic way of loving me.

Until I was planning our wedding, and I found a private podcast on my best friend Chloe’s iPad.

There were over seven hundred audio files in there. The poems, the tone, even the tiny rustle of pages turning in the background—they were identical to the ones in my folder.

The only difference was the timestamp. She received them an hour and a half earlier than I did every single night.

As it turned out, the exclusive romance I treasured was just a second-hand forward, sent to me after he was done comforting someone else.

I stared at the playlist of that private podcast on the iPad screen, my fingers shaking uncontrollably.

"My sweet Chloe, here’s a little Shakespeare for you tonight. Sleep tight, beautiful."

Ethan’s deep, velvety voice came through the headphones, carrying a hint of lazy tenderness. In the background, there was a faint, distinct click of a Zippo lighter.

I knew that sound too well.

Because on my phone, inside the "Ethan’s Lullabies" folder, there was a voice memo that sounded exactly like this. Even the lighter clicked at the exact same second.

My hands trembled as I clicked on the upload history.

Seven hundred and thirty audio files. Every single one was uploaded at 9:00 PM.

And I always received Ethan's voice memos at 10:30 PM.

For three years, over a thousand days and nights. He had been recording these sweet lullabies for Chloe at nine, and then, like checking off a chore on his to-do list, he forwarded the exact same audio file to me ninety minutes later.

The deep love I thought we had, the special ritual I thought was ours alone... was just a massive, pathetic lie.

A wave of intense nausea hit my stomach. I ripped the headphones off and gasped for air.

Chloe’s iPad screen was still glowing. She had lent it to me half an hour ago to pick some background music for my wedding. She probably forgot to log out of her private account. Or maybe, she did it on purpose.

The front door lock beeped.

Ethan walked in, bringing the chilly autumn breeze with him. He was holding a beautiful, vintage paper shopping bag. Seeing me on the couch, he immediately offered a warm smile.

"Freya, look what I got for you."

He took off his shoes, walked over, and handed me the bag.

"That limited-edition vintage Leica camera you mentioned once? I pulled a lot of strings to get it from a collector in Japan. A pre-wedding gift for my beautiful bride."

Ethan’s eyes sparkled with a desperate desire to please me. He leaned in, trying to kiss my cheek out of habit.

I instinctively leaned back, avoiding his touch.

There was a faint scent of woody rose perfume on him. It was Chloe’s favorite brand—a niche, strong fragrance that lingered for hours.

Ethan froze mid-air, a flash of confusion crossing his eyes, but he quickly recovered.

"What’s wrong? Stressing out over the wedding plans?" He gently stroked my hair.

I didn't say a word. My eyes fell on the Leica camera. On its brass edge, there was a tiny, sharp scratch, like it had been scraped by a manicured nail.

Just ten minutes ago, Chloe had posted a picture on her close friends' Instagram story.

It was the exact same Leica camera, with the exact same scratch on the corner.

Her caption read: [A priceless vintage piece to others, but to me, just a little token of his everyday indulgence.]

Looking at that scratch made my eyes sting like crazy.

"Where did you get this camera?" My voice was flat, like a dead pool of water.

Ethan walked over to the kitchen island and poured himself a glass of water, completely unfazed.

"A friend shipped it to my office. I just grabbed it on my way home. Do you like it?"

He didn't even bother to make up a decent lie.

Watching him drink water, I suddenly felt that this man, whom I had loved for three years, was a complete stranger.

Right then, Ethan’s phone on the counter lit up.

Caller ID: Chloe.

Without hesitation, he picked up the call right in front of me and even put it on speaker.

"Ethan..." Chloe’s voice came through, filled with tears and panic. "The pipe under my sink just burst! There’s water everywhere, and the landlord isn't picking up. I'm so scared. Can you please come over?"

Ethan’s brows knitted instantly. He checked the wall clock.

"Don't panic. Shut off the main water valve first, go stand somewhere dry, and wait for me. I'm on my way."

He hung up, turned to me, and spoke in a tone that left no room for argument.

"Freya, Chloe has an emergency. Her pipes burst, and she can't handle it alone. I'll go help her out real quick and come right back."

I leaned back on the couch, looking at him coldly.

"If her pipes burst, she should call a plumber, her landlord, or emergency maintenance. Are you a licensed plumber now, Ethan?"

Ethan froze. For the past three years, I had never spoken to him in such a sharp tone. I had always been the sweet, understanding fiancée.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice dropping into an impatient, patronizing sigh.

"Freya, stop being difficult. Chloe is your best friend. She’s all alone in this city. What's wrong with me helping her out when she's in trouble? Since when did you become so heartless?"

As he spoke, he pulled a velvet Bvlgari box from his pocket and placed it in front of me.

"I bought you this necklace on my way home. Be good, wait for me. I'll come back to keep you company as soon as I fix this."

With that, he grabbed his car keys and walked out without looking back.

As the front door slammed shut, the entire apartment fell into a dead silence.

I looked at the Bvlgari box, then at the second-hand Leica camera, and suddenly let out a laugh. Tears streamed down my face, burning hot against my skin.

I didn't touch the jewelry box. Instead, I grabbed my phone and dialed the HR director at our Milan headquarters.

A month ago, the company had offered me a promotion to be the Design Director for the Milan region. I had turned it down without a second thought because of my wedding with Ethan.

"Hi Lisa, sorry for calling so late. Is that Director position in Milan still open?"

There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by an excited voice. "Of course it is! Freya, did you change your mind?"

"Yes. I accept the relocation. The sooner I can start, the better."

After hanging up, I went into my study. I took all the audio files from Chloe's private podcast and the screenshot of her Instagram story, and backed them all up into an encrypted cloud drive.

At 10:30 PM.

My phone buzzed right on time.

Ethan had sent a sixty-second voice memo.

I clicked it. It was him reading Shakespeare. In the background, the sharp click of the lighter sounded louder than ever.

And ninety minutes ago, this exact audio had already been safely uploaded to Chloe’s private podcast.