Chapter 2
A month after Ethan went traveling with his mistress, I signed the body donation agreement.
I calmly packed all my belongings and called the cemetery manager.
“Ms. Davies, please buy me that plot.”
“Yes, I won’t be burying a body, just some old things.”
“Could you please pick up the packed items from Ethan’s villa?”
With everything arranged, I transferred the last of my money via PayPal.
The moment my account balance hit zero, there was no fear or confusion.
Only a sense of peace and release from death.
A year ago, I thought my illness was cured.
With a mix of hope and trepidation, I returned to New York, hoping to win Ethan back.
But I found everything had changed.
Ethan hated me.
He wished I was dead.
He trapped me in the marriage I despised most.
Reminding me again and again how much I’d hurt him back then.
For a year, I quietly endured it, trying to melt away the hatred between us with love.
But I failed.
The consequence of that failure was my disease relapsing.
This time, Ethan got what he wished for.
His screams in bed, asking why I didn't just die, had finally come true.
Forcing myself to ship out the packed items, I swallowed a handful of painkillers.
Just as the pain began to subside, my phone rang.
Ethan’s Ins feed had updated again.
He’d posted countless photos of him and Serena on their trip.
They kissed under romantic snow-capped mountains.
They planted a pine tree named after them in a vast, endless desert.
They went deep-sea diving and took photos with sharks…
All the things I had once written in my diary.
All the things Ethan had promised to do with me.
He had done them, one by one, with Serena.
A sharp, stabbing pain pulsed in my chest, and I endured it numbly.
Just as I was about to turn off my phone,
Ethan’s call came directly through.
“Ana Reed, send ten boxes of condoms to the Hilton Hotel.”
“Serena is allergic to strawberry-flavored ones. If you mess up again, I’ll tell the vet to stop treating your precious sick dog!”
Ethan’s voice was slightly breathless, and if I listened closely, I could hear a woman’s seductive voice.
I gripped my phone, it took me a long moment to find my voice.
“Ethan, Buddy is already dead…”
“Poisoned by your mistress…”
A month ago, Ethan held a welcome-home party for Serena.
That night, he threw the games in front of me, deliberately losing to her multiple times.
The first time, Serena demanded he French-kiss her for three minutes.
Before the kiss, he drank the soup I’d spent three hours making for him, then locked lips with Serena, deliberately humiliating me.