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Michael frowned at a string of unread messages,then forced a smile,letting Clara drag him away.
For two weeks,Michael had been with Clara.
Lived together.
Took care of Clara and her son.
Never came home...
That stormy night,Clara fainted from pain.
Michael took her to the hospital,turned out she had a minor condition that required some rest.
He stayed,never leaving her side,for two weeks.
Never went home.
If he had gone home,
maybe he would’ve seen the mess of shoes scattered in the entryway from when I rushed out.
Maybe he would’ve noticed the supper I’d left in the thermos for him, the untouched dinner on the table.
Maybe then—he would’ve realized I was missing.
Maybe… he would’ve worried.
Maybe… he would’ve cried for me.
But he didn’t.
It was as if I had never existed in his life at all.
For half a month, he stayed by another woman’s side without once looking back.
My soul hovered in the air,
watching the taillights of the car grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
The pain—sharp and electric—rippled from my toes all the way through my body.
That car…
It was the one we bought in the second year of our marriage.
...
Michael always said I brought him luck.
He used to travel around doing his job in the villages,earning only modestly for a decent life.
I suggested he contact funeral homes to become a professional mortuary cosmetologist.
Michael excelled,his restoration works brought him fame within six months,along with rising demand and fees.
By year two,we bought our dream car.
Michael chose my birthday for the license plate.
He sat in the car, holding my hand, kissing my fingertips.
He told me he would give me the happiest life, that I’d be soaked in honey forever.
Honestly, if Clara hadn’t come to this city after her divorce,
I might have spent my whole life never knowing just how tender Michael could be—to another woman.
All the affection he ever gave me… it turns out, it was nothing special.
The first time I heard her name from Michael’s lips,
he merely said she was an old friend—someone who had come a long way to find him, hoping for a bit of help.
Back then, I trusted in his love without a hint of doubt.
Until the day I found a woman’s lingerie in the car.
Brand new.
Still in the bag.
Bright red.
Furious,I confronted him.He paused,then laughed fondly.
Back then,I didn’t knew what he meant by his smile,thinking he was stalling for time,mocking my jealousy,my pettiness.
Now I knew—he was laughing at Clara,the cute woman who left her new purchase in our car.
Michael told me that Clara had driven our car to shop, she "accidentally"left it behind.
He found it adorable,her carelessness cute and charming.
To him,Clara was an innocent,lovably woman.
From then on,I knew Clara wasn't just a name in his stories.
She was a master at subtle flattery.
She knew that Michael would mention the bra,giving her an excuse to thank him,an excuse to see him a few more times.
I couldn't watch anymore and drift around aimlessly,somehow I returned home.
Passing through walls,I froze.
Thieves had struck!
Every cabinet was open,clothes and items strewn,my jewelry box ransacked.
Yet the door and windows was undamaged,meaning the thief had a key.
There were only two keys: one with me,one with Michael.
Michael wouldn't rob his own home.
His years of savings were all gone...
I laughed at myself—pathetic.
He didn't care about me,yet I pitied him.
Better stolen than Clara occupy of every thing I used to own.
A shrill screech,like a needle scratching on steel,pierced my ears.
When the feeling of dizziness disappeared,I found myself in the shantytown where Mike’s mother lived.
Police were investigating again.
They'd been here before—why were they here again today?
What was the officer's"clue"?
"Captain,the informant said she saw a van circling around here that night.Rain was heavy,no clear plate."
"No photographs from nearby cameras?"
"Nothing yet."
"The informant lives nearby,right?I'll question her myself."
I hadn't known my body was repeatedly run over by a van!
Someone wanted me dead for good.
I followed Captain Lewis deeper into the shantytown.
The path grew familiar.
When I saw the informant,I felt I was struck by lightning.
It was Michael's mother!
