Part 2The Last Time He Chose Her

The scent filled my nose, and nausea washed over me.

With what little time I had left—on what might have been my very last birthday—my husband had gone to welcome his first love home.

I said nothing. I rarely went against Julian. I didn’t cry, make a scene, or blame him.

Being reasonable and understanding was why he had chosen me in the first place.

The next morning, I laid out his clothes and made his breakfast as usual, then watched him leave.

As though nothing had happened the night before.

Julian’s social circle wasn’t easy to enter. Many business opportunities depended on maintaining relationships with the other executives’ wives.

I didn’t like the atmosphere among those wealthy women, but for Julian, I was willing to put up with it.

I arranged to meet one of them at a newly opened dessert café.

I took a seat by the window, tucked so far into a corner that you could easily miss it.

When I happened to look up, I saw Julian and Sophie walk in, laughing and talking.

Sophie hadn’t changed at all. Her long hair fell over her shoulders, and her smile drew people in. She was like a little ray of sunshine.

When her cake arrived, she held the first bite to Julian’s lips.

He opened his mouth and ate it.

As far as I remembered, Julian rarely ate sweets. Apparently, the problem wasn’t dessert. It was who offered it to him.

Just then, the woman I’d been waiting for finally arrived and sat down across from me.

Her eyes were red. She had been crying, and the moment she saw me, fresh tears spilled down her face.

She told me her husband had a mistress. She could have looked the other way.

But the woman had come right up to her and announced that she was pregnant with her husband’s child.

My gaze drifted toward Julian and Sophie.

Noticing my distraction, my companion followed my eyes. When she spotted Julian, she looked back at me several times.

When I made no move, she grabbed my arm, ready to drag me over and confront them.

Our struggle must have drawn attention. Several people turned to look.

Sophie looked our way too.

She rose from her seat and approached me, looking delighted. “Emma? It’s been so long! What are you doing here?”

Julian saw me as well and came over. His expression was unreadable as he stopped beside me.

Without thinking, I wiped the corner of his mouth. “You have frosting here.”

I smiled at him. Behind my back, the nails of my other hand dug into my palm.

In that moment, anger wasn’t all I felt. I couldn’t bear how unfair it was.

I had poured everything into protecting our marriage, yet Sophie could destroy it simply by showing up.

“I just got back, and there’s so much I don’t understand about my new job. I was asking Julian for some advice…”

As Sophie explained, I kept looking at Julian, waiting for him to say something.

But he didn’t. His eyes stayed on Sophie.

I couldn’t remember how I got home. The other woman’s words kept playing in my head. “The way your husband looks at her is different.”

That evening, Julian brought home a red velvet cake. It was a rare gesture.

Julian was a reserved man. He didn’t talk much, and he rarely showed his emotions.

The cake was his way of making up for what had happened.

He knew I liked dessert. He didn’t know red velvet was the one cake I hated most.

I accepted it with a smile, then turned and put it in the fridge.

I went to bed early that night, but no matter how long I lay there, I couldn’t fall asleep. Julian came in a little later and lay down beside me.

His familiar scent surrounded me as he carefully drew me into his arms from behind.

His warmth seeped through the thin fabric of my pajamas. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep again.

Even after his breathing became slow and steady, I was still wide awake.

The discomfort in my abdomen was getting worse.

Only then did I remember.

I was dying.