"How can you hurt an innocent person like this?" Jean yelled angrily, "Juliet, get out and apologize to her right now!"
My wrist was hurting from being grabbed so hard.
I looked at this man who used to have eyes only for me and my heart grew colder and colder.
I slapped Jean across the face.
"You want me to apologize?"
I looked at Jean's stunned face.
"In your dreams!"
I unbuckled Jean's seatbelt, pointed to the car door and said, "Get out!"
I watched Jean look at me with an unreadable expression and he left with an angry glare, "You will regret this!"
Then, Jean slammed the door and left.
Through the car window, I could still see Jean catching up with Gwen, grabbing her hand forcefully.
I watched Gwen struggle a few times and finally she collapsed into Jean's arms, crying uncontrollably.
It was so heart-breaking to see that scene, until tears could not help flowing.
The pain made my hands tremble so much that I could barely hold the steering wheel.
I was shaking so badly that when I drove past the two people embracing each other,
I clearly saw that prostitute woman giving me a defiant look, silently declaring to me, “This battle, I won.”
Jean and I were in a cold war. All of Jean's friends came to mediate, trying to persuade me.
"Juliet, Jean just feels sorry for that girl; it's not love at all. Don't overthink it."
Our mutual friends all said, "You two have come a long way together. Last time Jean was drunk, he was still calling your name.”
“Jean said that seeing Gwen always reminds him of you from the past; he just wants to make up for the hardships you went through back then."
I listened to my friends talking about our past.
I remembered how we started from nothing.
I remembered how we fought with stray dogs for food as children.
I remembered that day when our parents went on a trip and both died in that accident, leaving us alone.
Our older relatives took all our property, turning us from orphans into homeless children.
It was Jean who hugged me tightly and said, "Juliet, I will definitely give you a home."
Back then, "home" was a distant concept.
Between the many lights, there wasn't one that belonged to us.
Every brick and tile in the city was so expensive, but Jean let me live in the most luxurious apartment in the city, filling the house with memories of the two of us.
Even the corners and edges were padded with soft protective strips because he was afraid I would bump into them.
Jean always said, "Juliet, in my heart, you will always be a child."
"I want you, Juliet Mason, to be the happiest princess in the world."
"My little princess."
That was why my friends said to me, "Which man doesn't mess around? Jean is already considered good; he doesn't gamble, doesn't frequent prostitutes and doesn't keep mistresses. He's completely devoted to you, Juliet. Stop making a fuss."
I understood.
These were Jean’s messengers, his way of giving me a step down. If I played along, we could pretend nothing happened, just like after every fight before and start over again.
But suddenly, I didn't want to anymore.
I was just stubborn, so stubborn that when I saw Gwen's latest WhatsApp Story update, it was a picture of her and her child sitting on a Ferris wheel, smiling brightly, with the caption,
[The child said, "Even if Dad isn't my biological father, as long as there's love, we're a family."]
In the corner of the photo, there was a pair of hands with clearly defined knuckles.
I couldn't possibly not recognize them.
I had seen those hands for almost thirty years and that ring, which Jean and I personally designed and had custom-made, was our wedding ring.
My heart ached so much that it was almost numb, almost to the point where I thought I couldn't feel anything anymore, when Gwen sent me a video.
