2

Four years later

The morning sunlight streaming through the gaps in the master bedroom curtains felt remarkably warm, as if the universe itself were celebrating Niana and Sean’s third wedding anniversary.

Niana sipped her coffee, a lingering smile on her face. On the bed lay a small red velvet box, open to reveal a white gold necklace with interlocking ‘N’ and ‘S’ initials.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sean whispered from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist—now slightly fuller due to a two-month pregnancy she was still keeping secret.

Niana turned around, meeting her husband's seemingly sincere gaze. "It’s gorgeous, Sean. You didn't have to go to all this trouble."

Sean kissed her forehead for a long moment—a kiss that felt deeply protective and affectionate. "You’re my everything, Niana. I’m so sorry I won't be able to make the dinner you booked tonight. Something urgent came up out of town. I have to go for our future, for the sake of the company while it's at its peak."

A pang of disappointment throbbed in Niana's chest, but she swallowed it down. As the wife of a successful businessman, she was used to his unpredictable schedule. "I understand. Drive safely."

"I promise I’ll be back as soon as the business is wrapped up," Sean whispered in her ear before pulling away as his phone rang loudly. He seemed in a rush, grabbing his blazer and briefcase, never noticing that his silver laptop was still sitting open on the vanity, still powered on.

After seeing Sean to the door and watching his car vanish around the corner, Niana returned to the bedroom. She intended to tidy up the vanity, but her eyes were drawn to the glowing screen. The wallpaper was their wedding photo from three years ago—Niana smiling shyly and Sean looking at her with pure adoration.

How sweet, Niana thought. She went to close the laptop, but her finger accidentally brushed the trackpad, moving the cursor over a folder in the corner of the desktop. It wasn't hidden, but it had a strange name: "The X Baby."

Niana’s brow furrowed. Sean wasn't the type to save files with odd names. A spark of curiosity flickered—that intuitive nudge only a woman knows. With her heart beginning to race, she double-clicked the folder.

Inside were dozens of video files. Niana frowned, assuming they were project references or promotional videos. She opened the one at the top of the list.

In the first second, Niana’s world stopped spinning.

The sound of a familiar moan filled the silence of the room. On the screen, atop a luxurious hotel bed, Niana saw her husband—the man who had just kissed her forehead so tenderly—tangled with a woman.

Niana froze. The breath caught in her throat. She prayed it was a nightmare, but the high-definition clarity shattered her hope. The woman wasn't a stranger. That honey-blonde hair, the small mole on her shoulder... it was Patricia. Her stepmother.

The woman who had been so kind to her since her father passed. The woman who always called her "sweetheart" and pampered her like her own flesh and blood.

"Oh, Sean... slow down," Patricia’s voice on the video sounded revolting.

Then, she heard her husband’s voice. The same voice that had whispered words of love to her that morning.

"You like that, my Little Dove?" Sean asked in the video, kissing Patricia’s neck.

Niana felt something shatter into a million pieces inside her chest. Little Dove. That nickname. Niana had begged Sean to call her that a year ago because she thought it was sweet and intimate. He had flatly refused.

"Don't be ridiculous, Niana. That’s too childish. We’re adults," he had said then.

Yet here on the screen, Sean said it with the most soulful tone Niana had ever heard. He was giving Patricia something he had never even given his own wife.

Niana tried to breathe, but her lungs felt like they were shrinking. Her hands, gripping the edge of the vanity, began to shake violently. She felt nauseous—not from the pregnancy, but from a wave of sheer disgust crawling from her stomach to her throat.

She clicked another video at random. The date... one year ago. Then another... two years ago.

They had been doing this for a long time. Perhaps even before her father died. Or maybe since the very beginning of her marriage.

The room began to tilt. The colors in the bedroom faded into a suffocating gray. A profound chill spread from her toes, creeping up until it froze her entire body. Niana went numb. She couldn't scream, she couldn't cry; she couldn't even blink. Her eyes remained glued to the screen, watching the betrayal play out on a loop like a broken tape in her mind.

A high-pitched ringing started in her ears. The moans in the video faded into painful static. Niana wanted to close her eyes, but her eyelids felt heavy as lead. She felt like a soul being forcibly ripped from its body, watching her own trembling self standing before her husband's laptop.

That gift... this necklace...

Niana touched the 'N' and 'S' pendant at her neck. The cold metal now felt like a noose. Every sweet word Sean had uttered that morning felt like a dagger twisting in her wound.

"You’re my everything," Sean’s whisper echoed back to her.

"Liar..." Niana murmured faintly, her voice barely audible even to herself.

Suddenly, a tiny kick fluttered in her womb. It was subtle, but enough to snap Niana back to the bitter reality. She looked down at her still-flat stomach. There was a life in there. Sean’s child. The child of a man who was currently off enjoying himself with her own stepmother.

Niana felt a violent urge to heave. She ran to the bathroom, collapsing to her knees in front of the toilet, retching out all of her pain. But even after her stomach was empty, the crushing weight in her chest didn't lift.

She returned to the bedroom with weak legs, dragging her body like a living corpse. She stared at the laptop once more. The "The X Baby" folder. She understood the name now. 'X' for a forbidden affair, a secret neatly tucked away behind a sacred wedding photo.

Niana didn't wail. Her tears fell in a haunting silence. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly out the window where the sun was still shining brightly, utterly indifferent to the fact that a woman’s world had just ended inside.

The shock slowly morphed into a cold emptiness. The hope, love, and trust she had built over the last three years had turned to ash in minutes. Niana clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white.

There was no "urgent business" out of town. Sean had gone to meet Patricia. They were probably celebrating their own "anniversary" somewhere, laughing at the stupidity of Niana—the obedient wife and devoted stepdaughter.

Niana closed her eyes, trying to steady her erratic heartbeat for the sake of the fetus in her womb. But every time she closed them, the image of Sean smiling at Patricia haunted her.

Disappointed? That word was too small for what she felt. This was the total annihilation of her dignity as a woman.

Niana reached for her phone on the nightstand. Her fingers trembled as she searched for a contact. But she stopped. She couldn't call anyone right now. She had to think. She had to be strong, even if her heart was shattered beyond repair.

She looked at the laptop again. The video on the screen was paused on Patricia’s face, smiling triumphantly at the camera, as if the woman knew that one day Niana would see this.

Niana closed the laptop with a slow, deliberate motion. The click of the lid sounded like a judge’s gavel, passing the final sentence on her marriage.

"Enough," she whispered to the darkness creeping into her heart. "This ends here."

Yet beneath her budding resolve, a great fear loomed. How could she face this alone? Without assets, without protection, and with a child about to be born to a father with no morals?

Niana was just about to get up from the bed when a message flashed on her phone. It wasn't from Sean, but from an unknown number. The message contained a photo: Sean and Patricia holding hands at the airport, with a short caption that made Niana’s heart skip a beat:

"Happy Ruination Day, Niana."