Kevin suddenly rushed in front of me, blocking the door and glaring at me while said, "Don't you know what day it is today? At this hour, you're still planning to go out?"
Of course, I knew, it was the day of Kevin's 2024 Fall-Winter fashion show. I was supposed to be the mystery guest, closing the show in a unique wedding gown.
I replied, "I made an appointment with a doctor to get my wound treated. It got infected and I had a fever last night."
Kevin looked momentarily taken aback, his emotions hard to read.
"Kevin, let Amy go. She's always been delicate, not as strong as me," Wendy chimed in, pressing herself against him in a coy, needy way.
Just as I was leaving the hospital with my wound newly dressed, Kevin's call came through, "It's been two hours. Even if you were bandaged head to toe, you should be done by now, right? Amy, do you really think I can't do this show without you?"
I sneered internally. Kevin, there won't be a show with me, but I'll definitely leave you a grand farewell gift.
"Don't worry, I'll make it back," I replied, hanging up before he could respond.
Ignoring his subsequent calls, I eventually turned off my phone. Arriving at a familiar studio, I knocked on the door.
This was where Kevin and I had started out, a studio he had built with his roommate, Freddie Jones. Over time, while Kevin and I ascended the social ladder and became consumed by fame and fortune, this studio remained simple and unchanged.
The bell chimed pleasantly as I opened the door and Freddie, though initially shocked, greeted me with a smile.
After some catching up, I got straight to the point, "You've heard about Kevin's fashion show, right? All of his designs for the show are based on drafts you originally created. I need those original drafts as evidence of his plagiarism."
Freddie's hand paused mid-pour, spilling tea on the table, "You two are …"
"I'm planning to get a divorce." I cut his words.
After leaving Freddie's studio and getting into a cab, I looked down at the brown-paper-wrapped chocolate in my hand.
Tears welled up as I tore open the packaging, recalling Freddie's words as he handed me the sketches, "Amy, if you're certain about leaving, then don't look back."
I wiped away my tears, took photos of all the sketches and sent them in an email to a journalist I knew in Paris.
Then I hurried to the Paris DNA testing center, where I obtained the fake paternity test results Kevin had used back then. Since my passport had been used for the records, it was easy to retrieve all the evidence I needed.
With everything secured, I took a cab to the venue. By the time I arrived, Kevin's patience had clearly worn thin.
"She's here!" someone in the crowd called out and all eyes turned toward me.
Kevin visibly relaxed, though his face still held traces of anger. He grabbed the design drafts on the table and threw them in my direction.
"Amy, you're impressive! Making everyone wait for you! Hurry and get changed!" The entire venue echoed with his angry shouts and the staff, visibly uneasy, ushered me backstage.
In the dressing room, my eyes immediately landed on the wedding gown at the center of the room.
This gown, inspired by me, was Freddie's design, with tens of thousands of pearl-white gems delicately adorning the hem.
