Chapter 1

My husband bought beef trimmings every day but never ate them himself.

After I cooked them up, he'd only put pieces in my bowl and our daughter's.

"Eat more, you two. I'm useless — this is all I can give you right now. Once I make more money, things will be different."

I rushed to reassure him. Secretly, my heart felt warm.

Then one day, on my way to pick up our daughter, I passed by the butcher's stall. The owner recognized me right away.

"Sia, your husband really spoils you. He comes in every day and buys the premium cuts — always pays extra to get the best. Says his wife deserves nothing but the best."

I froze on the spot, a chill spreading through my whole body.

I had never once eaten premium steak.

My daughter tugged at my hand, looking confused. "Mom, we've always eaten beef trimmings at home."

She was right. That's all she and I had ever eaten.

So who was William buying those premium steaks for?

……

My daughter's voice was small, but I heard every word.

"Do you sell beef trimmings separately?"

Maggie, the butcher, stopped what she was doing.

"Beef trimmings? We don't sell those. They're just scraps."

She pointed toward a small table off to the side, where packages were stacked.

"We leave them over there. Homeless folks can take them for free."

She frowned. "Why do you ask? Your husband always buys the premium steak."

Something squeezed tight around my heart.

William and I had met through a setup — a blind date arranged by mutual friends. After we married, everyone said we were the perfect couple, devoted and steady.

Ten years of marriage. Not a single fight. I never once thought he would cheat.

I bent down and adjusted our daughter's scarf, my eyes stinging.

William had knitted that scarf himself and given it to me on our first anniversary.

That day, my usually composed husband was uncharacteristically flustered.

I teased him that it was ugly, but I kept it tucked away carefully all these years — until I wrapped it around our daughter's neck.

I pulled myself together and looked back at Maggie.

"Maggie, can I get your number? If my husband buys the premium steak, will you let me know? I'd like to have the other ingredients ready."

I had no appetite for anything else after that. I took my daughter home.

I'd barely started cooking when William walked through the door.

"Sia, I'm home. I missed you."

He set down the beef trimmings and pulled me into his arms, his touch gentle.

His phone rang. He immediately pulled away and stepped out onto the balcony.

A message from Maggie lit up my screen.

"4 lbs of premium beef. $300. Same as always."

A string of laughing emojis followed. My heart sank.

William came back from the balcony shortly after, an apologetic look on his face, his phone still showing an ended call.

"Sia, the company needs me to go back and revise a proposal. There's an issue with this project."

I looked at the slightly strained expression on his face and nodded.

William exhaled with relief and pulled me close again. "Marrying you is the luckiest thing that ever happened to me."

"Once this project wraps up, let's take a trip somewhere. Just the two of us."

I looked down at the coat he'd never taken off and quietly said, "Sure."

He let go of me and headed for the door, steps quick and urgent.

On the table sat the beef trimmings. The runoff had soaked into the surface. I grabbed a cloth and swept it all into the trash.

My daughter stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching her stuffed rabbit.

I opened my mouth, then closed it. I didn't know how to tell her that her father already had another family.

I swallowed the ache rising in my chest and coaxed her softly.

She was a good girl. She took her bread and milk and headed back to her room without a fuss.

I followed William's car to an upscale neighborhood.

I watched him carry the premium beef and groceries inside, happiness written all over his face — unguarded in a way I had never seen from him.

Not even in our most intimate moments had he ever let himself go like that. I had always thought he was just reserved by nature — that he was that way with everyone.

Turns out I was just the exception.

While I stood there in a daze, the door swung open.

A woman answered — flawless makeup, a fitted dress that traced every curve, heels clicking against the floor.

Freya. William's high school desk neighbor.

In his yearbook photo, the two of them were pressed close together, Freya laughing as she leaned against him.

I had been jealous. William tore up the photo to make me feel secure.

But I turned back that day — and saw him carefully piece it back together and hide it somewhere I'd never find.

Back then, I loved him. So I forgave him for clinging to the past, and I believed we would make it to the end together.

Now he was laughing, pulling that woman into his arms, burying his face in her neck — then conjuring a single rose to make Freya smile.

Without realizing it, tears were streaming down my face.