I woke up in the hospital to find Joey sitting at my bedside, his arms crossed and a look of frustration on his face. "You're really something else," he said, sounding completely exasperated. "You were dead set on rushing back for your husband, and now you've landed yourself with a bleeding ulcer. I never imagined you'd let love cloud your judgment like this. If our mentor finds out, you're going to be in a heap of trouble."
I wanted to laugh but couldn't; instead, tears streamed down my cheeks.
Joey looked taken aback. "Why are you crying just because I scolded you? Where's your husband, anyway? Why isn't he the one who brought you here, and why did I get called instead?"
Through my tears, I confided in him, feeling like a wounded child seeking comfort from family. "He's fallen for another woman. I'm getting a divorce."
Joey watched me cry, seemingly at a loss for words, but he tried to reassure me. "Are you sure this isn't just a misunderstanding?"
I shook my head, my voice barely audible, "He's in love with my best friend. Their baby is almost due."
Joey sat in silence for what felt like an eternity before saying, "I'll help you find a lawyer. The love might be gone, but the money should stay. You've worked just as hard to build his success; don't walk away empty-handed."
Right, everyone else is more sensible than I am. I'm the fool who poured nine years into a misguided devotion, only to end up like this.
I could still picture Erick's eyes, which no longer held any warmth, as he delivered his cold words, "Being with Cassandra made me feel alive again, Eden. You understand, I don't want to lie, especially not to you."
"And that's what you liked about me, right? That I never deceive."
So, because he didn't want to lie to me, he somehow felt justified in having an affair and bluntly telling me: I've achieved my dreams, but you no longer excite me, and I want a divorce. His honesty was his excuse.
I've stopped questioning whether Erick ever loved me because I believe he did. The young man fresh out of school, waiting for me awkwardly in the bitter cold with a hot spiced honey cake wrapped in his coat—that was love. The man who applied heat to my aching legs in our drafty Victorian-style house, tears in his eyes—that was love. The man who shielded me from the rain with his coat, leaving himself soaked and feverish the next day—that was love too.
I don't doubt he loved me once, but I know he doesn't love me now.
During the week I spent in the hospital, I didn't hear a word from Erick. No calls, no messages. His WhatsApp status was blank, and so was Cassandra's. I created a new account, pretending to sell baby items, and added Cassandra.
She accepted quickly, and when I checked her status, I realized she'd blocked me from seeing her updates. Her posts were filled with snapshots of their daily bliss.
"Focused men are the most attractive, undeniable heart flutters,” she wrote, alongside a candid picture of Erick signing documents.
"I walked with him from sunset till dark. I'm envious of Eden; having someone to miss this much. If it were me, I'd give up everything just for a moment like this," she mused, a month after I had left for my trip.
"He called me a fool as I shielded him from the rain, and I blushed like a girl new to love. This must be what a heart-throb feels like," she posted three months after I departed.
"Erick, I like you," she declared, six months after I was gone.
"Heaven heard my prayers. Erick said: I like you too. From then on, I decided to be the villain, betraying the world to be with him," seven months into my absence.
"You and I, one plus one, equals three. Congratulations on becoming a father."
"He said: You and the baby are his whole world. He'll give us all his love."
"I trust time will pass, but our love will remain unchanged," was accompanied by a photo of their interlocked fingers, a diamond ring glinting on her finger. The ring was part of a set of wedding rings—hers and Erick's, not mine.
Cassandra liked to share her everyday life and thoughts as if keeping a journal, and I read their love story as if it were a diary. I cried rivers for myself, for what seemed so unjust.
In the two years since I left, they've been wrapped in passionate love, even bringing a child into this world.
