Chapter 2

01.

In the middle of the night, my stomach turned with nausea.

When I leaned over the trash can, I saw the half-burnt cigarette.

It was lying on top of those torn stockings.

The white stains on the fabric told a vivid story of how intense the session had been.

I could smell the lingering scent from the bin, and it felt like a bolt of lightning hit me.

I hadn't touched a cigarette in a year for the sake of our future child.

Della had even used the excuse of wanting a "high-quality baby" to stop being intimate with me.

And stockings… she never once wore them for me.

There was only one possibility.

Yesterday, while my father was in critical condition, Della had brought another man into our home.

My hands shook as I reached for my phone to confront her.

But I saw she had already sent me a message.

"Ethan, don't you have anything better to do? Stop hovering over me all the time."

My father was fighting for his life yesterday, and Della had promised to meet me at the hospital.

She forgot.

Then she sent me that text.

What was I even to her?

I tried to reply, but a giant red exclamation mark appeared.

Della had blocked me.

At that moment, I saw a post from her childhood friend, Zane.

In the photo, Della was snuggled in Zane's arms.

They were staring into each other's eyes, their fingers locked together.

The chemistry was undeniable.

She was wearing those diamond stockings―a style I never dared to imagine her in.

The caption was simple: "Us."

I let out a self-deprecating laugh.

I finally realized I meant nothing to her.