I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

My mind kept drifting back to the past; it had been Brynn who had pursued me from the start.

He wasn’t like the others. He never flattered, never chased with hollow gestures. He simply appeared, quiet and steady, weaving himself into my life little by little until all my pride and clarity were slowly worn away.

I still remembered the moment I truly fell for him, it was seven years ago, during a business trip to France.

He had contacted the perfumery I often visited a week in advance, asking the artisan to craft a limited-edition fragrance based on a scent I had once blended myself.

The night I landed in France, the perfume arrived, along with a handwritten card.

"You once said scent could carry memories of love. So, will it help you remember me?"

He never spoke of what he had done.

Back then, my father didn’t approve. He said Brynn came from nothing, that we were worlds apart in status.

But Brynn didn’t argue. Just a month later, he merged a newly acquired pharmaceutical company into my family’s business, tripling its value overnight, earning my father’s respect through sheer action.

By then, I already knew I couldn’t live without him.

I went to my father and said, "I will marry him."

Our wedding was grand, a dream bathed in luxury. He held my hand and vowed, "From this day on, through rain or shine, I’ll protect you for the rest of my life."

I had once truly believed I’d married the right man in this lifetime.

Brynn spoiled me, understood me, respected me. He never tried to control me, never forced his will on me.

Instead, he wrapped me gently in his world, soft, steady, like silk winding around the heart.

His love left its mark on everything around me.

But I never imagined that just when I had surrendered completely, just when I had fallen hopelessly in love with him, he would deal me such a cruel, merciless blow.

The very next day, I hired a private investigator. By nightfall, I was holding a photo of Brynn’s actual marriage certificate.

The date stamped on it was from ten years ago. And in that photo, he was standing next to Sylvie.

Ten years. He had been married to Sylvie for ten years. And I had only been with him for seven.

The investigator explained that it had been an arranged marriage, set up by his family in their old house, meant to ward off bad luck. A fortune teller had said it only needed to last until he turned thirty. After that, they could part ways.

If Brynn had been honest with me from the start, I might have respected him.

But he chose to hide everything and even secretly had a child with that legal wife.

The thought of Brynn in bed with another woman made my stomach churn. I stumbled into the bathroom and vomited violently.

The sound must’ve woken him. Brynn rushed over, eyes turning red with panic as he reached for me.

“No, honey, we’re going to the hospital!”

I stared at the man before me, tears choking my voice as I asked, "Brynn, do you love me?"

He froze for a brief moment, then, without hesitation, pulled me into his arms and whispered, "Honey, of course I love you. You’re the one I love the most. What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"

But how could a dream compare to this cruel reality?

He had been married to another woman for ten years. He had a child with her. And still, he couldn’t even bring himself to end it.

Was this really the love I once believed in?

I shut my eyes and wept in silence.

The next day, Brynn said he wanted to take me back to his hometown to visit "his deceased friend’s child," Solomon.

I didn’t refuse.

I had never truly looked at that child before. But today, I needed to see for myself.

I wouldn’t be able to let go unless I saw the truth with my own eyes.

Solomon lived in a villa near the old house under the care of her so-called "grandmother."

Brynn told me she was the child of a childhood friend who had passed away and that only her grandmother remained. He said he pitied the child.

He even encouraged me to meet her to see if we had any affinity.

But in my heart, I was cold as stone. Grandmother? Most likely, it was just an actress Brynn had arranged.

Before we even stepped through the door, a woman came running out and flung herself into his arms.

"Brother! You’re finally back! Did you come to see me?"

Sylvie clung to him, her voice soft with familiarity, her eyes brimming with dependence.

"Stop that, so clumsy, you can’t even walk straight!"

Brynn frowned, clearly annoyed, and shoved her off coldly.

The old me would’ve stepped in, smoothed things over, and told Brynn not to be so hard on his 'sister.'

But now, I simply looked at him, catching that brief flicker of gentleness that passed through his eyes.

I said nothing. I turned and walked upstairs, not to find Solomon, but to stand just beyond their sight, quietly watching from the staircase.

As expected, the moment I disappeared from view, Sylvie leaned into him again, her voice sweet as syrup.

"Brother, when are you going to give Solomon a rightful name? He cries every night for his daddy; it breaks my heart."

“Soon, just wait a little longer. Didn’t I already bring Natalie to see Solomon?”

When I wasn’t around, Brynn didn’t push Sylvie away again.

“Brother, Solomon is still so young. I really can’t bear it. After all, I carried him in my womb for ten months.”

Her voice was soft, tinged with grievance, like a whisper soaked in tears.

“Mom really likes Solomon too. She says he’s just like you were as a child, smart, obedient, and easy to love.”

At once, the image of that mother-in-law who’d never spared me a kind word rose vividly in my mind.

The whole Murphy family, from top to bottom, had played me like a fiddle.

For seven long years, through every New Year, every holiday, they’d sat and watched me and Sylvie on either side of Brynn. Did they think their son was reliving some ancient fantasy, one wife, one concubine?

Downstairs, Brynn stood straight as a board, his tone laced with impatience.

“I’ve already promised you Solomon will have the status of the Murphy family’s grandson. That’s as far as I’ll go. Don’t get greedy. My wife will always be Natalie.”

Hearing that, Sylvie’s expression faltered for a split second, but in the next moment, she composed herself. As if nothing had happened, she lifted her hand and let her fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt.

Her smile turned sultry, but her voice carried a sugar-coated complaint.

“I never asked for much. Being listed as your ‘wife’ on the household registry is enough for me. Brother, tell me, between her and me, who’s wilder in bed?”

My chest tightened as if my breath had been slashed by a dull blade.

I couldn’t stop myself from looking at Brynn, desperate to see how he would react.

But what I saw made my heart plummet, his gaze turned hazy, his pupils darkening, and his Adam’s apple moved slightly.

In the next instant, he shoved Sylvie against the wall at the turn of the hallway, lowered his head close to her lips, and muttered hoarsely, “Of course, it’s you. Who could be wilder than you?”

Sylvie giggled, her fingers lazily hooking at his chest.

I stood frozen at the top of the stairs, my grip tight on the handrail, my knuckles turning white.

Hearing that, what else was left to figure out?

Brynn and Sylvie had been together all along, behind my back. And they weren’t just sneaky about it; they were playing with fire.

I remembered how, once upon a time, when Brynn had been swept up in passion, he’d suggested trying something more adventurous. But I, shy and hesitant, had refused.

Back then, he hadn’t pushed me. He simply held me and promised he’d listen to me.

I had thought it was kindness.

Now, I saw it for what it was; every single thing I’d refused, he’d probably shared with Sylvie.

My heart froze, and I couldn’t bear to watch it any longer.

I stomped heavily down the stairs.

The sharp click of my heels against the floor broke the silence, and in an instant, they sprang apart.

Brynn shoved Sylvie away so quickly, as if nothing had happened, then turned to me.

“Why are you down here so soon, honey? Did you enjoy meeting Solomon?”

I saw right through his calm act, and something lodged in my throat, I couldn’t get a word out.

Happy? How could I be happy?

He handed me another woman’s child, expecting me to play the role of the kind, understanding stepmother. Did he think I’d jump at the chance?

I forced my voice to remain steady, though it felt hollow as I said, “I thought about it. I’ve decided not to adopt.”

The moment the words escaped, Brynn’s face went pale.

“Why, honey?”

I clenched my fists until my nails.

How old was Solomon?

Seven.

And I had been married to Brynn for seven years.

Which meant, the year I eagerly stepped into this marriage, he already had a child.

All those years, I’d feared having children, and he’d comforted me with promises of not needing them; his child had already been running around, growing up.

And now, as I had finally come to terms with having a child of my own, his child was about to start elementary school.

Why, Brynn?

Why didn’t you tell me?

“I just don’t want to raise him,” I said, my voice flat and emotionless.

“Natalie, you’re so cold-blooded.”

For the first time, Brynn’s eyes held nothing but disappointment, his expression as cold as ice.

“Solomon is my childhood friend’s only child. Before the accident, his only concern was ensuring Solomon had a home.”

I stared at him, silent.

He was still playing his part, still weaving his lies. And he played them so convincingly.

If I didn’t already know the truth, maybe I would’ve felt a stab of guilt at his words.

“Sister-in-law, don’t be so heartless,” Sylvie piped up, her voice oozing sweetness. “He’s just a child. Don’t you have any compassion?”

From upstairs, the elderly woman descended slowly, Solomon clinging to her leg like a timid shadow.

She shot me a disapproving look, her face twisted in judgment.

“Madam, Solomon’s such a sensible child. Don’t you think you should soften your heart? You don’t have children of your own. It would bring some life into the house.”

They spoke in perfect unison, like a well-rehearsed play, each word designed to pierce my heart with guilt.

Pain twisted in my lower abdomen, and cold sweat trickled down my spine.

“Brynn, we could have our own child,” I said through clenched teeth, staring him down. “Why adopt?”

A flicker of broken hope shone in my eyes, but I still gave him one last chance.

But he only frowned, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

“I can’t bear to see you suffer through childbirth. If you want, we can try later. Solomon is so sensible; maybe he’d make a good older brother…”

A loud buzz rang through my mind, my chest feeling as though it was being torn apart.

We had been childless for seven years because of our own issues.

For seven years, people might’ve said we weren’t in a rush.

But once we adopted a child, what would others think?

Men never understood the sting of having people stare at your stomach, their eyes full of pity.

He hadn’t even considered that.

I let out a bitter laugh, cold as shards of ice.

“In that case, why not let Sylvie adopt him? Didn’t she always say she wouldn’t marry? Perfect chance for her to have a companion. Or let your mom raise him, another little brother would liven things up around here.”

“Enough!”

Brynn’s face twisted in anger. For the first time in seven years, he snapped at me.

“Natalie, stop being so unreasonable.”

“Sylvie’s a woman; how could she adopt a child?”

“My mom is too old; how could she possibly take in a child again?”

He shielded Sylvie behind him, his anger a mask for the guilt in his eyes.

My last shred of hope for Brynn shattered with those words, like falling from a cliff and crashing to pieces.

Looking at him, standing protectively over Sylvie, my heart went numb.

His heart had already turned, hadn’t it?

I murmured, barely any emotion in my voice: “Fine, go ahead and adopt.”

After all, it had nothing to do with me.

We weren’t even legally married.

The child wouldn’t be registered under my name anyway.

Brynn seemed stunned for a moment before quickly exhaling in relief and immediately apologizing. “Honey, I’m sorry. I was too harsh just now. That was my fault.”

Afraid I’d change my mind, he hastily left with the old woman to continue their act.

Solomon stood at the top of the stairs, staring at me like a lifeless doll. His eyes mirrored Brynn’s exactly.

A wave of unease washed over me. My steps faltered, and I gripped the handrail tightly as I descended.

“Natalie, feeling proud of yourself?” Sylvie sneered suddenly.

I hadn’t even processed her words when a sharp, tumbling noise echoed through the house, and Solomon actually fell down the stairs.

He tumbled and landed on the soft mat below, a heart-wrenching cry exploding from him instantly.