I came across a trending post asking people to share the person they had failed.

One of the comments caught my attention.

'It has to be my best friend. In my defense, her husband is exactly my type. From head to toe, he suits my taste perfectly. I fell for him at first sight when she introduced us.

'During the graduation party, I got them drunk and slept with him. Damn, she's a lucky b*tch to have him. Later, I told her I went abroad, but actually, I was preparing to give birth to my baby in another city.

'He always comes to visit us. We are a happy family of three. Technically, I'm not a homewrecker. We already have a real marriage certificate. All we're missing is the wedding.

'I think fighting for true love is something to be admired. A word of encouragement: don't let the spouse of the person you love be the reason you give up.'

Attached below the comment was a photo of a man's and woman's fingers intertwined.

I recognized the man immediately. It was my husband, Luke Minton.

I knew from the small scar on his wrist.

###CONTENT

####CHAPTER-NAME:

Betrayal

I couldn't tear my gaze from the intertwined hands in the photo.

Their faces were not shown. Only their hands were.

The woman had a French manicure, while the man's fingers were long and slender.

On his pale wrist was a faint raised scar, almost unnoticeable, like a thin mark hidden beneath his skin.

Others might have missed it, but I never would. It was evidence that I saved him from death.

Luke and I grew up together.

We were in the same classes throughout elementary school and high school. Back then, he was nothing like the composed gentleman in a suit he was today.

He was a gloomy, withdrawn, and timid boy, as if he had always belonged in the dark corner.

His fringe covered his eyes. He never met anyone's gaze and almost never spoke.

The boys excluded him from their circle and even bullied him. I was the only person who talked to him.

I took his textbooks out of the bin after they threw them in; I shared half of my lunch with him during recess when he was starving.

During eighth grade, his parents divorced. His temperamental father made him the punching bag, venting out on him.

He experienced severe depression.

It was a stormy afternoon.

I climbed over the fence and snuck into his yard out of worry for him. I remembered witnessing a horrifying scene when I looked into the window of the first-floor bathroom.

Luke lay in the bathtub. His blood painted the bath water crimson.

He cut his wrist open right to the bone with a box cutter.

I broke the window and rushed inside. With shaking hands and tears blurring my vision, I called an ambulance and tried desperately to keep him alive.

Later, he lay in a hospital bed, pale as paper.

When his empty eyes met mine, he asked hoarsely, "Bianca, were you going to throw me away too?"

I wrapped him in my arms with tears rolling down my face and promised him, "No, it'll never happen, Luke. I'll never abandon you."

Since then, I had become the lighthouse guiding him in life.

I took him to the psychiatrist, reminded him to take his medication, and stayed by his side whenever the darkness closed in again.

That scar came from one of the worst moments of his life. But to me, it had also become proof that we had survived the hardest years together.

After high school, we started dating.

We studied different subjects at different colleges in the same city, but four years apart did nothing to fade our feelings. We got married after graduation, and it had been another four years since then.

He was a perfect husband. He prepared warm teas and heating pads for me during my period. A light frown on my face would make him panic.

I used to think I was the happiest woman in the world—until that familiar scar appeared in a trending post written by a woman who claimed she had given birth to her best friend's husband's child.

It felt so surreal that I could barely believe it, yet the truth sat there on my screen, cruelly crushing everything I once believed.

####CHAPTER-NAME:

Social Feeds

My body shook uncontrollably. My teeth sank into my lip, hard enough to draw blood, as I opened the user's profile with trembling hands.

Only a blank page was shown. The notification read, 'You're unable to view the user's profile due to their preference.'

She blocked me, or specifically, the account I was using right now.

The account "Witchy_Mona_1" belonged to my best friend, Ramona Jones.

We were roommates for four years. Food, clothes, secrets—we had shared everything.

Aside from Luke, she was the second person I was closest to.

During our freshman year, I introduced Luke to her.

Never did I expect myself to bring a snake into my life.

I forced myself to calm down, logged out, then logged back in with an alternate account no one knew about.

Then, I searched her username again. This time, her profile opened.

Countless feeds flooded me as if they had been anticipating me.

One photo showed a man's hand resting on a swollen belly. The caption read, 'The baby is kicking! He put his hand on my belly, and his eyes turned red when he said this was the fruit of our love.'

I couldn't ignore the familiar scar.

The next photo was taken at the sunny beach. A man was carrying a little boy on his shoulders. Only half his face was shown, but there was a faint, indulgent smile on his lips.

The caption said, 'Our first trip. With him by my side, I'm not afraid of anything.'

The familiar jawline. The familiar curl of lips. I had kissed them countless times. I remembered every tiny detail.

I didn't care about my aching heart. I kept scrolling down to read the other posts.

Every photo and caption fit certain events of Luke.

On Labor Day three years ago, he had told me he was away for a field visit. In reality, he had taken Ramona for a prenatal checkup.

On my birthday two years ago, he said his flight had been delayed and that he could not make it back in time.

But the truth was, Ramona's son had a fever. He was taking care of the boy in the hospital.

On our wedding anniversary last month, he gave me a diamond necklace.

He gave her a Porsche. The caption said it was his reward for all her hard work.

What chilled me to the bone was the revelation of their marriage certificate being the real one.

I yanked the drawer out and dug up my marriage certificate.

It was signed and sealed by the official. We even took a photo after that to immortalize the beginning of our happy marriage.

Suddenly, I recalled the graduation party.

That day, everyone was excited about their future. Ramona and I had a drinking contest. Since I was a lightweight drinker, I passed out soon after a few drinks.

The next morning, I woke up in a hotel room with a splitting headache.

Luke was sitting beside the bed, his eyes bloodshot. He held my hand tightly and apologized. "Bianca, I was drunk last night and failed to take care of you. I'm sorry."

Back then, I thought he was apologizing for indulging me in drinking.

Come to think of it, he was not apologizing for that. Rather, he apologized for sleeping with my best friend in the next room when I was unconscious.

After the party, Ramora cried to me that her heart was broken and she wanted a change of scenery.

I even sent her to the airport. I was reluctant to let her go, so I wrapped her in my arms for a long time, reminding her to take care of herself.

It turned out she never left.

She was in another city, pregnant with my husband's child. She had received his care, built a family with him, and mocked my ignorance online.

####CHAPTER-NAME:

Flashbacks

As nausea hit me. I rushed into the bathroom and retched, but nothing came out except bitter bile.

I stared into the mirror. A woman with reddened eyes and a pale face stared back at me.

My stable and happy life over the last four years felt like a dreamy, iridescent bubble.

Now, it had burst. Nothing remained.

There were no tears on my face.

I was too furious and shocked, and tears would not come.

I picked up my phone and opened Ramona's profile again, searching for clues in the photos where she had been careful not to show her face.

The window was left ajar in one of the photos, revealing the top of a building.

It was the Starwell TV Tower, a landmark building of Silveridge.

Another photo revealed the sign of a famous chain coffee shop.

The third photo captured the flower bed outside the neighborhood.

In less than half an hour, I had tracked down Ramona's location. She lived in Camphor Heights in Silveridge.

A popular amusement park was only two miles from her neighborhood.

Without hesitation, I changed into a comfortable tracksuit, grabbed my car keys and personal documents, then walked into the garage.

I had planned everything out the moment I started the engine.

It was pointless to yell at him on the phone or listen to his lies.

I needed to see everything with my own eyes.

I wanted to find out how the man I risked my life to save and the woman I poured my heart out to betray me. I wanted to know how they trampled on my dignity and built a family without my knowledge.

My grip tightened around the steering wheel until my fingers turned white.

Memories from my youth flashed through my mind.

When we were sixteen, Luke had been hurt by his father and hid in my guest room, tugging at my shirt as he looked at me like an abandoned puppy. "Bianca, you're the only one I have now."

When we were twenty-two, he dropped to one knee with a diamond ring between his fingers. Tears were twinkling in his eyes as he proposed to me. "Bianca, I'll always put you before myself."

Last week, he was drying my hair when he gently suggested, "Bianca, let's have a kid. A daughter will be the best. She'll be as beautiful as you."

…

Back in our university dorm, Ramona had once promised me, "Bianca, I'll be the first to fight anyone who wrongs you."

Then, it was the day at the airport before she departed. She hugged me tightly while crying. "Bianca, I wish you a happy life."

Those scenes flashed through my mind one after another before finally stopping at the photo of those intertwined fingers. 'He always comes to visit us. We are a happy family of three.'

I never knew how good at pretending Luke was until today.

When I arrived at the amusement park, I took a break.

…

The next day, Ramona's timeline was updated.

'Good morning, world! We're going to the amusement park today. My little boy looks super adorable in his teddy bear onesie!'

She had taken a selfie in the passenger seat. From the interior, I could tell she was sitting in Luke's Maybach.

I waited patiently at the entrance.

This time, I would catch them with my own eyes.

####CHAPTER-NAME: