Brent Delgado finally agreed to take me to Harbor City to see the snow—to make up for the honeymoon he'd never given me.
But while I was packing, I found three plane tickets in his coat pocket.
When I confronted him, he barely glanced up, his tone dismissive.
"Oh, Agatha heard we were going on a trip. The girl wouldn't stop whining about it, so she's coming too."
The blood in my veins turned to ice. I kept my voice steady.
"This is our honeymoon. What's the point if someone else is tagging along?"
Brent looked up from a stack of documents, irritation creasing his brow.
"It's not like we just got married. Why are you being so dramatic? She's been down lately—what's wrong with bringing her along to cheer her up?"
I didn't argue like I usually did. I just zipped my suitcase shut.
"Fine."
——
Brent must have sensed something was off. His voice softened.
"You know about the accident last year. If it wasn't for her brother, I'd be dead. He made me promise to take care of Agatha before he died. I..."
"I know." I cut him off and lay down on the bed. "Let's just sleep. Early flight tomorrow."
Brent opened his mouth to say more, but his phone rang.
A woman's sobbing voice came through the speaker. "Brent... I had another nightmare... there was so much blood... my brother said it hurts..."
"Don't be scared. I'm on my way!"
He grabbed his coat and rushed for the door. At the threshold, he seemed to remember I existed and turned back.
"Eliana Summers, go ahead and sleep. Agatha's been emotionally unstable lately. I need to check on her."
I closed my eyes. "Got it. Go."
He probably didn't expect that reaction. Every other time Agatha called him away with some excuse, we'd fight until one of us stormed off.
The room went quiet. Then his phone rang again, and he left without hesitation.
I pulled out my phone and texted my best friend Blanche Simmons. She was a lawyer.
Help me draft a divorce agreement.
She called back within seconds. "Finally came to your senses?"
I stared at the ceiling. "Yeah. He's always saying I'm inconsiderate, that I have no compassion. Fine. I'll step aside and let them be happy."
Blanche let out a sharp breath. "Are you insane? Why should you hand that cheating bastard and his side piece a happy ending? Hold your ground. Gather more evidence of the affair—I'll make him pay through the nose."
"Blanche, just forget—"
"No. You're doing this my way, or I'll never live it down as a top-tier attorney."
I gave in and started screenshotting Agatha Swanson's social media posts, sending them one by one.
Her feed was a detailed diary of her life with Brent. Him trimming her nails. Him taking wedding-style photos with her. They looked like a couple deep in love.
Just as I finished sending, a new post popped up. Brent in the kitchen, making her congee. Her hand resting on his abs.
The caption read: "Warm stomach, warmer hands ^_^"
My thumb hovered for a moment. Screenshot. Send.
Brent didn't come home that night. Just before dawn, two texts arrived.
"Agatha has a lot of luggage. I won't pick you up—meet at the airport."
"Grab some crab roe buns from downstairs on your way."
Brent hated anything with a strong smell for breakfast. When that shop first opened, I'd bought some after my morning run. His face had gone cold instantly.
"You don't think eating that stuff in the morning is disgusting? Throw it out."
I'd never eaten anything with filling since. I switched to bread and coffee, just like him.
So if he didn't like them, those buns obviously weren't for me.
I dragged two suitcases down to the breakfast shop, bought the crab roe buns, and hailed a cab to the airport.
The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Business trip or vacation? That's a lot of luggage to haul around by yourself."
