I thought it was a surprise.
It turned out to be someone else's trash.
Zion opened the cake box, then the takeout container.
The cake was a ruin—a collapsed puddle of cream and mud-colored frosting. The food was worse: a chaotic mess of mixed dishes, a chicken drumstick gnawed to the bone, sushi pieces with bite marks in them.
One glance confirmed it. Leftovers from tonight's banquet.
A bitter taste flooded my mouth.
What exactly did I do wrong?
Am I only worthy of someone else's scraps? Is this the extent of his love for me?
Truly, he was "good" to me.
"Rose, this cake is delicious. Here, have a bite."
Zion scooped up a spoonful of the mangled dessert and held it to my lips.
Nausea roiled in my stomach at the sickly-sweet odor. I raised my head and met his eyes.
"I was working part-time at the Grand Light Hotel tonight. I already ate the staff meal."
I said it deliberately.
The Grand Light Hotel was exactly where his banquet had been held.
His hand jerked. The spoon clattered against the table, cream splattering the wood.
He scrambled to wipe the table, using the motion to mask his panic. A tight, unnatural smile stretched across his face. "Good that you've eaten, then."
I waited. I thought he would take this chance to explain. To tell me the truth.
But he didn't.
A hollow pit opened in my chest, swallowing whatever hope I had left.
When I remained silent, Zion let out a breath of relief. He pulled me into his arms.
"Rose."
"I missed you so much."
In the past, those words would have filled me with warmth. I would have hugged him back, soaking in his affection.
Tonight, I stood stiff as a board.
Then his hand slid inside my collar, fingers brushing against my scars.
A violent shudder ran through me. Revulsion rose like bile—visceral, physical. I shoved him away.
"Rose, what's wrong?"
He stood there, bewildered. He couldn't understand why his docile wife was acting so strange.
"Nothing. I'm just tired."
I shook my head, avoiding his gaze.
"You don't need to work part-time. Let me handle things. Besides, who knows? Maybe I'll buy a lottery ticket one day and hit the jackpot. Then we can live in comfort."
He smiled, his voice smooth.
He was already laying the groundwork for his next lie—explaining away his wealth as luck.
My lips parted, the urge to expose him burning my throat, but exhaustion pinned me down. It all felt pointless.
"I'll get hot water. Soak your feet," he said softly. "Rest well tonight. My vacation starts tomorrow, so I'll stay with you. We'll spend some real time together."
He played the role of the considerate husband perfectly. He carried me to bed and tucked me in.
From start to finish, I remained cold.
Middle of the night.
Sleep refused to come.
Suddenly, Zion rose from the bed. He dressed quickly and bolted out of the house.
I slipped out of bed and followed him into the darkness.
Outside, under the dim streetlights, the truth revealed itself. Lydia was here.
"Didn't we agree you wouldn't come here?"
He frowned, his voice hushed but urgent.
"I missed you."
She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. "You can't keep ignoring me for Rose, can you? I'm a woman, Zion. I need love too."
She looked up, pouting. "Compared to other women, I've already been very generous. Haven't I?"
The resistance drained out of him. The next second, he crushed her against his chest.
The sight hit me like a blow between the eyes.
My world spun, the pain sharp and dizzying.
"Will you keep me company for the next few days?" Lydia asked, her voice dripping with feigned vulnerability.
She wore such a wronged expression.
Guilt flashed in his eyes. He surrendered softly. "Okay."
He balanced two boats with such practiced ease.
Suddenly, Lydia shifted her gaze.
She looked past his shoulder and stared directly into the shadows where I stood. She saw me.
But she didn't scream. She didn't expose me.
Instead, locking eyes with me, she pulled him down and pressed her lips firmly against his.
