On my thirtieth birthday night, I stabbed my best friend with a cake knife when she was singing “Happy Birthday”.
She let out an agonized scream as blood soaked through her clothes.
We had planned this staged death a long time ago.
Sobbing, she begged me to do this act in front of my husband, so she wouldn’t have to repay her enormous credit card debt.
However, seven days later, when the police informed me that the forensic examination confirmed that she died on the spot, my whole body began to tremble. And as the image of my friend lying in her pool of blood entered my mind, I vomited nonstop.
My husband hired the best lawyer for me, so I was only sentenced to ten years in prison.
Because the image of my friend's terrifying death haunted my dreams, I endured the bullying from my cellmates and accepted every injustice the prison guard inflicted on me.
I started a hunger strike and swallowed glass, but my best friend refused to forgive me and every attempt to kill myself failed.
Ten years later, when I returned home like a wandering ghost, I saw my best friend standing before my husband. When she took off her shirt, kiss marks colored her collarbone.
Then, my husband pulled her into his arms with such familiarity.
Ten years ago, he kept emphasizing that he had suddenly developed a skin allergy and moved into the study so he wouldn’t have to be intimate with me. Not only that, his suits always carried the scent of the perfume I loved.
Naively, I thought it came from the perfume laundry from washing his suit. Coincidentally, the perfume band was not just my favorite but also my best friend's.
I thought my husband hired the lawyer as a gesture of his love, but it turned out he was actually the demon who pushed me into the abyss.
After the shock passed, I laughed.
I took out my old-fashioned phone and dialed a number long buried in the past.
“Help me draft a divorce agreement. In one week, I’ll be gone from here.”
***
The moment I pushed open the door, the living room fell silent.
It had been ten years, but my husband and my best friend seemed unchanged. And I, standing in the doorway, felt like an intruder.
Because I was just released from prison and had nowhere else to go, all I could do was return to this home.
With my eyes fixed on the glaring hickey beneath my friend’s collarbone, I slammed the door shut behind me.
Though my best friend seemed a bit guilty, she quickly met my gaze. My husband, however, acted as if nothing had happened. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?”
I wanted to shout at them, but deep down, I already knew the answer.
“I'm back.”
My husband, Jacob Sinclair, shot me a glance and raised an eyebrow.
"What? Do you want me to apologize for disturbing your private moment?" I asked calmly.
Before he could answer, my best friend, Leslie Summer, looked me up and down with pitiful eyes. "You should thank me properly. If I hadn't felt sorry for you, I would've had the lawyer get you a death sentence long ago.”
Over these past ten years, everything I had endured had taught me to remain unruffled.
Ten years ago, I thought I was the happiest person in the world. Not only did I have the most perfect love, but I also possessed a soulmate who understood me completely.
Just days before my thirtieth birthday, my best friend tearfully begged me to play along with her scheme. She had overspent fifteen million dollars and no matter what she tried, she couldn’t pay the debt.
So, to raise money, she had to work odd jobs day and night, but she still could not gather together fifteen million dollars.
She promised me she had already found a lawyer and that once she escaped her debt, she would immediately announce her “revived” physical condition.
Seeing her crying her eyes out, I finally agreed, with my husband as a witness.
“Honey, what a brilliant plan you have. We can be together openly without you repaying that fifteen million dollars.” Jacob’s gaze toward Leslie was brimming with love.
"It's just a mere fifteen million dollars. I could repay it with a flick of my finger,” Jacob replied. His eyes filled with a mixture of helplessness and doting affection.
“I'm only doing this to save you money,” Leslie murmured, pressing her body against his chest.
As I watched them acting so intimately, embracing each other, as if no one else existed, my chest ached as if pierced by needles.
So, I walked away from them, intending to return to the bedroom to retrieve some personal belongings and leave this place.
Seeing my complete lack of reaction, a fire ignited in Jacob’s eyes. He grabbed my wrist harshly. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I struggled to break free but fell to the floor. The old-model phone that I had hidden in my clothes slipped out and hit the floor.
Leslie bent down to pick it up, pressed a button casually and gasped in surprise. “Oh my, you have an unread text message.”
“Divorce agreement ....” She held the phone and read it aloud.
In an instant, Jacob snatched the phone. As he frowned at the screen, his eyes practically spitting fire.
He tossed the phone aside. “Irene Lambert, what the hell are you trying to pull? Don't think this will make me beg you!”
"You really can't stand seeing Leslie doing well, huh?"
After I picked up my phone, I was relieved to find it undamaged.
“Since you two are living such a blissful life now, why not let me leave?”
Leslie pleaded with the man beside her, "We'll have to support her after the divorce; I can't just watch her become homeless. After all, she was in prison for ten years, where would she go?"
She looked at me sarcastically, as if reminding me of being locked in prison for ten years.
Suddenly, Jacob dragged me into the small wooden hut in the garden. “A stray dog like you wanting a divorce? That's not your call to make. All you need to do is be my dog obediently."
