When the earthquake struck, Pierse Jones instinctively shielded me with his body, taking the full brunt of the impact and suffering multiple fractures.

In the hospital room, the girl in the next bed looked at me with envy and said, “Your husband didn’t even care about his own life to save you. He really loves you.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah.”

But just last night, after I had fallen asleep, he slipped into the bathroom, his voice soft and soothing as he spoke to someone else—his little mistress,

“I’m fine, don’t cry. Be good.”

“As long as I think of you, I’m not afraid of anything.”

Pierse and I grew up together, from childhood sweethearts to each other’s first love.

We had been together for ten years, admired by everyone as the perfect couple.

No one knew he had a mistress on the side, a girl who looked just like me when I was eighteen.

I discovered Pierse Jones’ secret in the fifth year of our marriage.

On my way back from a business trip, the bus I was on got into an accident.

Fortunately, I had listened to Pierse and fastened my seatbelt as soon as I got on.

Aside from a minor injury to my calf, I was fine.

In the consultation room, a young girl in the next seat was on the phone, crying to her boyfriend.

"It hurts so much… When can you come pick me up?"

"Okay, I’ll wait for you."

She ended the call, her lips curling into a bright smile, eyes gleaming with joy at whatever sweet words her boyfriend had whispered to her.

Then, her gaze shifted to me, and she spoke with innocent curiosity.

"Miss, you’re hurt too. Why didn’t you call your husband to come get you?"

I paused for a moment. "He’s busy with work and doesn’t have time."

She tilted her head slightly, a hint of amusement tugging at her lips.

"That’s kind of sad."

She was young, and her attempt at showing off was as blatant as a child’s.

I smiled, unfazed. "Yeah, when you're young and in love, it’s like you can’t stand to be apart for even a second."

When Pierse and I were eighteen, we were like that too.

At the graduation banquet after our final exams, he got drunk.

Holding my hand, he proudly announced to everyone,

"As soon as I graduate from college, I’m going to marry Eva Burns. Nothing in this world can tear us apart."

As I left the consultation room, memories of the past lingered in my mind.

My injured leg made me walk slowly.

At the hospital entrance, I hailed a cab and had just gotten in.

A few meters away, a familiar black Bentley suddenly came to a stop.

The door opened, and Pierse stepped out, his expression carrying a hint of urgency.

I froze.

How did he know I was injured?

Just as I was about to lower the window and call out to him, the young girl from the consultation room came running over and threw herself into his arms.

Pierse took a step back, carefully avoiding the bandaged area on her arm before holding her tightly.

Through the car door, their voices reached me, slightly muffled.

"You’re hurt, and you’re still being so reckless."

The girl looked up at him, pouting. "I haven’t seen you for days. Even if I’m injured, I still want a hug."

His voice was filled with helpless affection.

"I really can’t take my eyes off you. Not even for a second."

He said the same words to me once when we were twenty.

That night, after a fight with my mom, I was thrown out of the house.

With nowhere to go, I wandered the streets aimlessly.

When I heard Pierse’s voice, I thought I was imagining things.

"Eva."

I looked up.

He was standing under the moonlight, worn out from travel, his eyes bloodshot.

His gaze fell on the red mark on my cheek, filled with distress.

"From now on, whenever you are back home, I won’t take my eyes off you. Not even for a second."

…

It was raining outside.

When Pierse came back, I was curled up on the couch, hugging my knees.

"Eva, you’re home. Why didn’t you turn on the lights?"

He flicked the switch, and the dark living room was instantly flooded with light.

I stared at him in a daze.

My gaze slowly traced over his face, inch by inch, searching for something—anything—that was different from before.

But there was nothing.

He was exactly the same.

Pierse’s gaze dropped to my calf, where blood was still seeping from the wound.

His eyes widened instantly.

"What happened?"

The worry and pain in his expression felt so genuine, not a hint of pretense.

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could say a word, tears suddenly spilled down my face.

"It… it hurts… so much."

The sharp sting of the wound touching water was nothing compared to the ache in my chest, an overwhelming helplessness threatening to drown me.

Pierse grabbed the first aid kit, took hold of my ankle, and carefully tended to the wound.

"Eva, how did this happen?"

I replied softly, "I was in a car accident on the way back today."

"Why didn’t you call me—"

Halfway through his sentence, he abruptly stopped.

Something seemed to click in his mind.

His gaze dropped sharply, focusing intently on my wound, as if studying it carefully—yet he deliberately avoided meeting my eyes.

I dug my nails into my palm, using every bit of strength to keep my voice steady.

"Yesterday, when we were on video call, you mentioned you had an important contract to negotiate today. I didn’t want to disturb you. How did it go? Everything go smoothly?"

Pierse’s lashes were long and thick, casting shadows over his eyes, concealing whatever emotion lay beneath.

He picked up a cotton swab soaked in iodine with tweezers and carefully disinfected my wound.

After a long pause, he finally murmured, "Yeah. It went well."

…

After treating my wound, Pierse went to take a shower.

I reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out his phone.

It unlocked effortlessly.

He added my fingerprint to his phone a long time ago, but I never once used it.

We were together for ten years.

And for all those years, I gave him my complete, unwavering trust.

Just as I trusted him completely, he trusted me the same way, which was why he never even bothered to hide his affair.

The chat history was right there—blatant, undeniable, filled with flirtations between him and that young girl.

Her name was Dolly Thomas, a junior in our alma mater, seven years younger than us.

Pierse called her Doll.

She complained about not getting along with her roommates, so he rented her an apartment off-campus and even got her a car.

Dolly loved Disney plushies.

When Pierse went on a business trip to Celadon City, he bought her two whole boxes of them.

She lined them up on her couch, took a picture, and sent it to him.

"You only bought them for me, right? Your wife didn’t get any, did she?"

Pierse replied, "No, she’s not like you. She doesn’t like these things."

Dolly pouted. "So, are you calling me childish?"

"No, I find you adorable."

My finger slowly scrolled down the screen, feeling weaker with each passing message.

So that was why, just before New Year’s, Pierse suddenly taken a trip to Westin Heights.

He had hiked up a steep trail to a remote chapel to light a candle for Dolly, who was sick.

And in June, when he left our college reunion halfway, claiming something urgent had come up, it was because Dolly had gotten drunk, called a cab, and sobbed her way to him.

Long before I ever noticed, she had already slipped into every crack in my life with Pierse, weaving herself into the spaces between us.

I swallowed the pain threatening to make me tremble and scrolled to the very bottom of their messages.

It was from today—after my accident.

"I took your wedding ring and threw it away."

Dolly’s words were laced with entitlement. "Just looking at it pissed me off. It’s like that woman was flaunting her existence at me.”

"What’s so special about her anyway? She only met you first, that’s all."

"So, when are you finally getting a divorce?"

And just moments before he walked through the front door, Pierse had replied, "Just wait a little longer. I’ll talk to her soon."

…

By the time Pierse came out of the shower, I had already put his phone back in his coat pocket.

He didn’t notice anything off, just ruffled his damp hair with a towel and told me to get some rest.

I didn’t respond. My gaze locked onto his bare hand.

"You haven’t been wearing your wedding ring lately."

His expression shifted slightly. As if covering up his reaction, he glanced down at his hand.

"I must’ve lost it in the locker room when I was out golfing the other day. I’ll have my assistant look for it tomorrow."

Then, as if that settled it, he added, "You’re hurt. Get some rest, Eva."

A wave of emotion surged through me, thick as fog, swallowing me whole.

I could barely breathe.

I stayed silent for a long time before finally managing a hoarse response.

…

Late at night, Pierse called my name softly.

“Eva, are you asleep?”

His voice was gentle, as if making sure I was deep in sleep before he carefully got up and stepped onto the balcony to make a call.

“You saw my wife today?”

“Doll, divorce isn’t as simple as you think.”

“You’ve always been good, don’t start making a fuss now, okay?”

Just a few steps away, separated only by a glass door, my husband was soothing his young lover.

“Of course, I love you. I love you the most.”

His voice was soft, affectionate, laced with tenderness.

A faint curl of smoke rose from between his fingers.

I stared at him, frozen.

Then, as if sensing something, Pierse turned his head.

Through the glass, our eyes met.

He stiffened on the spot. “…Eva.”

I closed my eyes for a moment before rasping, “Pierse, who are you talking to?”

“No one special. There’s an issue with the new proposal. Tommy and the team needed my input.”

He put away his phone and walked toward me.

His tone was effortless, as if he had used the same hollow excuse countless times before.

I caught the lingering scent of smoke on him and coughed twice.

He immediately reached out and pressed his palm to my forehead in concern.

“You’re not running a fever, are you? It’s been raining all night, the temperature’s dropped. I’ll grab an extra blanket for you in a bit.”

As he spoke, his gaze flickered over my face, subtle but assessing.

He was trying to see if I had overheard his conversation just now.

I pulled my robe a little tighter around me and softly responded, “Alright.”

My voice was as calm and steady as always.

Pierse visibly relaxed.

“Go back to sleep.”

…

Back in bed, he dozed off quickly.

He had tucked the blankets snugly around me, yet I lay there staring at the dark ceiling, wide awake.

The moment I closed my eyes, memories flooded in.

I was twelve when Pierse and his mother moved to town while she recovered from an illness. That was when we met.

Back then, I was always hungry.

Whenever my parents fought, my mother would punish me by making me stand outside in the yard for hours.

My little brother grinned smugly, gnawing on a drumstick right in front of me.

"Hey, worthless girl. Mom said you’ll only ever get my leftovers."

Pierse would march right in, grab my wrist in front of both my mom and brother, and drag me away to his house for dinner.

My mother, still seething from her latest fight with my father, couldn’t take her anger out on me.

Instead, she shouted after us, furious,

"If you like her so much, why don’t you just marry her?"

Pierse suddenly stopped, turned back, and smiled.

"That’s fine by me. It’s much better than letting her starve in your house."

…

After high school, my parents finally ended their toxic marriage.

My father walked away without looking back.

My mother, on the other hand, made it clear.

"Eva, you’re eighteen now. An adult. I have no obligation to support you anymore. Don’t expect another cent from me."

I scraped my way through four years of college, surviving on student loans and scholarships.

Meanwhile, Pierse worked himself to the bone, saving up every dollar until he finally had enough to start his own business.

In our senior year, he missed my birthday because of a business dinner.

But late that night, he still showed up outside my dorm, out of breath, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

He shoved them into my arms and pulled me into a tight hug.

"Eva, I’m going to give you the best life."

…

As time went on, our lives only got better.

On our wedding day, Pierse held my hand and made a solemn vow.

"In a world where everything changes, my love for you never will. Eva, I will love you forever. I will never waver, never betray you."

And I believed him wholeheartedly until I discovered Dolly.

Before that, I had always thought I was his one and only.