Chapter 1

As I was stepping out of the apartment with my belongings, the neighbor suddenly stopped me in the hallway.

He furrowed his brows and asked, "Could you guys keep it down at night?"

I froze, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"The walls here are paper-thin. I hear you screaming every single night, and it's seriously loud. I'm a healthy, single guy—it's pure torture."

As he spoke, he pointed toward the door right behind me.

That was the starter apartment my fiancé and I used to share.

Except I hadn't set foot in this place for over a year.

Clutching the ring box in my hand, I stood frozen in place.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon, yet I felt as if I’d been plunged into freezing river water, chilled to the bone.

I stared at him and asked again, "What do you mean?"

He looked up at me. Seeing that my confusion wasn't an act, he explained with a bit more patience:

"Lately, at night... you’re way too loud."

"Look, I get it, natural urges and all, but maybe tone it down a notch?"

"Seriously, the soundproofing is nonexistent. You can hear everything."

My mouth opened, but my throat felt choked with cotton. No sound came out.

Finally, digging my fingernails into my palms, I asked him:

"You think that was me?"

He arched an eyebrow with a dry chuckle and pointed at the door behind me.

"Don't you live here?"

With that, he pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and held up a photo.

"This is your boyfriend, right?"

The photo had been taken at dusk, right as the golden sunset bathed the balcony.

A shirtless man leaned against the railing with his arms spread, a cigarette dangling from his lips, exuding pure post-coital languor.

His profile was slightly blurry, but I recognized him in a heartbeat.

Tyler Reynolds. My fiancé of five years.

Just last night, he had been sitting across from me, patiently discussing which flowers we should use for our wedding aisle.