Chapter 9
624words
My temples were throbbing, and my head ached terribly.
A journey that normally took ten minutes somehow took forty minutes today.
I first returned to my own home to get my wallet; childbirth is a major event, and one cannot be short of money.
As I climbed the stairs, my steps felt somewhat heavy.
Although this apartment was bought by Yuri and me, I had never come up here since Serena moved in.
She never invited me, always taking the initiative to come downstairs to find me.
I retrieved the key from under the doormat, pushed open the door, and was met with a carefully arranged sense of warmth.
The diffuser was still working, emitting a sweet fragrance. The room was spotless—she was indeed a tidy girl.
I walked into the bedroom and searched through the bedside table for documents. As I crouched down, my fingertips touched a hardcover photo album.
Just as I was about to take it out, a violent wave of dizziness struck me. I staggered and fell to my knees, my temple hitting the corner of the table hard.
Warm blood trickled down the side of my face.
"Damn it, my old problem acting up at a time like this."
Grabbing some tissues to press against the wound, I held onto the table trying to stand up, but accidentally knocked the album to the floor.
The book fell open with a crack, and half a photograph slid out from a hidden compartment.
A slender hand with defined knuckles was gently caressing a pregnant belly, with the wedding ring I knew all too well on the ring finger.
It was the one we chose together during our honeymoon in Ireland; he said he would wear it for life.
I recalled that night when I asked him about his wedding ring, and he casually replied that he couldn't find it.
My heart stopped.
Trembling, I tore open the entire compartment, and more photos slid out.
7.17 Paradise Tour.
In the photo, Yuri was embracing Serena from behind, both smiling at each other in front of a carousel.
That T-shirt was even from the couple set we bought during our vacation.
There were also silhouettes of them cooking together in the kitchen, his tenderness as he bent down to kiss the top of her head, his attentiveness as he pressed his ear against her pregnant belly to listen to the baby's movements.
Each moment was like a knife stabbing deep into my heart.
Those nights when he worked overtime, those weekends when he was on business trips, those moments when his phone was always on silent—all were hidden in this apartment just one floor away from us.
Blood mixed with tears dropped onto the photo, blurring Yuri's gentle smile into a red smudge.
Those forgotten memories rushed back like a tide—his hand tightly holding mine when the doctor regretfully told me I might never be able to have children.
His evasive eyes whenever children were mentioned.
And that meaningful smile when he encouraged me to befriend Serena.
As well as that night when he knelt and begged me not to leave, saying it was just a moment of confusion.
When I looked up through my tear-filled eyes, I found Yuri standing at the doorway, though I hadn't heard him arrive.
He reached out to help me up, but I pushed his hand away with all my strength:
"Don't touch me!"
My voice was so hoarse I barely recognized it.
He froze in place, staring at the photos scattered across the floor, his face as white as paper.
Between us lay an elaborately woven web of lies.
