LOGIN“Ma’am, there’s no marriage record between you and Mr. Mark Henderson in the system.” My fingers tightened around the pregnancy report as my legs nearly gave out beneath me. Five years ago, Mark was recruited by a top law firm abroad with a high-paying offer. Without hesitation, I followed him across the ocean. He had told me, “Once I’m settled, I’ll take care of your status.” However, five years had passed, and my lawful permanent residence was still “in process.” Meanwhile, his assistant, Tonya Irving, who followed him abroad, had secured hers under his sponsorship. Back then, I made a scene, insisting on a divorce so I could return home. For the first time, the ever-composed Mark, an attorney, lost his calm. He grabbed my hand and said, “Tonya’s all alone out here, and it hasn’t been easy for her. Helping her is just the right thing to do. You’re my wife. Your status is only a matter of time. My work is sensitive right now, and I need to avoid any complications. You understand, don’t you?” But I had understood him for five whole years. My phone suddenly rang. Mark’s voice came through, light with laughter. “Tonya’s permanent residence was approved today. We’re celebrating tonight. I need you to get home early and cook up a feast.” I stared at the marriage license in my hand—now nothing more than a worthless piece of paper. A cold chill spread down my spine. As it turned out, I was never his legal wife. I had no legal status and no protection, much less rights secured for the child I was carrying. After hanging up, I scheduled an abortion and booked the earliest flight home. This time, I wouldn’t look back.
View MoreAll he knew was that every time he left flowers, he would stand across the street, staring at that glass door for a long time. Until one day, he noticed a poster stuck on the door. It had a photo of me holding a camera, smiling brightly.Below it read, “Kaia Paul Photography Solo Exhibition—The World I See is opening next Saturday at 3 p.m.”Mark stood across the street, staring at the poster, his heart skipping a beat.On the day of the opening, the exhibition space was packed. By the time Mark arrived, the gallery was already crowded. Rows of photographs—portraits, landscapes, spontaneous street shots—covered the walls. Each photo stated the time and place it was taken.The earliest ones were from five years ago. They were of fallen leaves in the park, sunsets over the bridge, and an old man playing violin in the subway. However, one photo stood out. It was a man in a white shirt, backlit, standing on a tree-lined campus path. It was him, the day they first met.Mark lingered in
“I was pregnant and too scared to tell you, so I went to the hospital alone for the procedure, only to get a call at two in the morning to pick you up from a bar and almost got attacked in that alley…” My voice broke off, and I didn’t continue.Mark’s eyes were red. “Kaia…”“Mark,” I said, looking at him, my gaze calm and still. “That shadow of yours… It’s gone.”I turned and walked into the studio, closing the glass door quietly behind me. Meanwhile, Mark stood frozen in place, staring at the door for a long, long time. …After that, he didn’t leave. Instead, he checked into a small hotel near Monti, bought a coffee every morning, and sat on the bench across from my studio, watching that glass door.Sometimes, I arrived early, and sometimes I didn’t come until noon. When I came and went, I sometimes noticed him, but my eyes never lingered, as if I were looking at a stranger.Mark didn’t dare approach either because he didn’t know what to say or what he could do. So, he just sa
Just then, his phone rang. He picked up. It was Greg.“Mark, the person you asked me to look for… I’ve found her.”Mark tightened his grip on the phone.“Where is she now?”“A photography studio in Monti. She’s been doing well lately. She’s shot covers for a few magazines, and people in the industry speak highly of her. Do you want the address?”Mark said, “Yes.”After hanging up, he walked out of the airport and hailed a taxi.“To Monti, please.”By the time the taxi stopped in Monti, the sky had darkened.Following the address Greg had given him, Mark found an old office building. The elevator stopped on the fifth floor. At the end of the hallway was a glass door with a sign that read ‘Kaia Photography Studio.’ The lights were on inside. However, Mark stayed by the door, not stepping in.Through the glass, he saw me standing in the studio, photographing a model. I wore a black shirt, my hair tied up, revealing the elegant line of my neck. I held the camera, slightly ben
Tonya’s face went pale for a split second, but she quickly recovered.“Of course it’s fake. How could I possibly have married you? Don’t you already have Kaia?”“Then what was the point of posting all that?”Tonya glanced at the screen and smiled. “Mr. Henderson, what did I say exactly? I wrote ‘forever recognized by law,’ but that’s fake. The law doesn’t recognize it, so where was I wrong? And I thanked you in the end. Well, you helped me with my permanent residence. Shouldn’t I thank you?”Mark looked at her, and for the first time, she felt like a stranger to him.For five years, she had worked late with him, attended endless social dinners by his side, and stood with him through one difficult case after another. He had always thought she was his perfect partner, the one who understood him best. Yet now, he realized he had never really understood her at all. Or maybe, he had never even tried because there had only ever been one person in his heart. That person would wake up a






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