Chapter 3

The black Bentley pulled up in front of the villa.

Neil lifted Arya from the car and gently settled her into the wheelchair, then pushed it forward.

Behind her sunglasses, Arya took in the sight of the house, their marital home. After five long years, it felt like stepping into a distant past.

"We're home, Ary," Neil whispered, leaning close to her ear. "Can you smell it? The tulips you planted for me have bloomed beautifully. I've cared for them all these years."

Arya stared blankly at the tulip garden in the front yard. Under the moonlight, the flowers stood tall and elegant, stunningly beautiful.

She had planted every single one. Back then, she loved Neil with all her heart. He had once said tulips were his favorite flower, and that was enough. She had planted hundreds, never asking why.

Until she fell into a coma.

Whenever Lindsay visited, she would bring tulips. With a soft smile in her voice, she would whisper, "Arya, did you know? Tulips are my favorite flower. You worked so hard planting them in the garden. I always feel happy when I visit your home with Neil."

The memory made Arya clench her fists with hatred. She looked down and snapped a tulip clean from its stem.

She did not regret loving Neil. She gave freely and accepted the loss. But her love never deserved to be trampled.

By then, Neil had wheeled her to the front door.

Arya had designed the entire villa herself—every detail, down to the fingerprint-activated lock.

From her seat, she reached instinctively to press her fingerprint. Neil stopped her before she could touch it.

She felt the faint dampness of his palm. He was nervous.

"I've got it, Ary. Let me open the door," he said.

A cold gleam flashed behind her sunglasses. Her mind was sharp and clear. Neil had erased her fingerprint.

Arya wanted to laugh, but bitterness clenched her chest. She withdrew her hand silently and watched him unlock the door.

Just as the lock clicked, a slender hand pulled it open from inside. It was Lindsay. She stood there like the mistress of the house.

Arya's grip tightened on her lap until her knuckles whitened. Her emotions threatened to break free.

So while she had been lying in a coma, suffering silently for five years, Lindsay had been living in her home, sleeping with her husband, raising her children?

Lindsay's smile faltered when she saw Arya in the wheelchair.

Arya spoke sharply. "What's wrong, Neil? Why aren't you pushing me in?"

From the mirror on the opposite wall, she caught Neil's silent gesture to Lindsay—a finger pressed to his lips.

'Right,' she thought. They believed she couldn't see.

Lindsay stepped back. Neil wheeled Arya inside.

"Neil, where are Chris and Lottie? Where are our children?" Arya asked eagerly.

She had chosen their names while still pregnant. Now, she cared little for Lindsay, the homewrecker. All she wanted was to see her children and hold them. They had been her reason to endure those five terrible years. The reason she had woken up.

"They're already asleep," Neil replied. "They have school early tomorrow. Your eyes still need time to recover. No rush."

Arya's gaze dimmed behind her sunglasses. She could not show desperation yet. That would only raise Neil's suspicions.

Just then, tiny footsteps sounded on the stairs. She turned toward them and saw two children descending, hand in hand. One wore blue pajamas, the other pink.

Arya nearly cried.

"Daddy," Christopher called as he spotted Neil. His eyes flicked to the woman in the wheelchair—hesitant, unsure.

Charlotte's eyes sparkled as she looked at Lindsay. She opened her mouth but stopped when Lindsay subtly shook her head. Confused, she stayed quiet.

"Is that Chris and Lottie?" Arya whispered and opened her arms. "I'm Mommy. Come here… Let Mommy hug you, okay?"

Charlotte shrank back, clearly scared.

Only Christopher stepped forward slowly. He reached out and gently touched Arya's cheek, as if to confirm she were real.

"You're really Mommy?" he asked.

"Yes, sweetheart," Arya's voice trembled. "I'm your mommy."

She longed to wrap him in her arms but feared scaring him. To them, she was probably a stranger who had been asleep their whole lives.

"That's enough for tonight," Neil interrupted. "Chris, take your sister to bed. I'll explain everything after school tomorrow."

Christopher glanced at Arya a few more times, then turned upstairs.

"Chris," Arya called, unable to stop herself, "can Mommy give you a hug?"

Her voice sounded fragile, heartbreaking. A tear slipped from beneath her sunglasses.

Christopher paused, ready to come back, but Neil's stern voice echoed. "Chris, go to your room."

Neil placed a hand gently on Arya's shoulder. "Don't rush things. They've never known you. They just need time."

Arya felt an icy chill spread through her chest. Neil was doing this on purpose. He did not want her close to the children.

Christopher and Charlotte climbed the stairs. Charlotte glanced back at Lindsay, reluctant to leave. She blew her a secret kiss.

Arya saw it and closed her eyes, overwhelmed by pain. She could throw away a cheating man like trash, but no one would take her children from her.

Once the kids were out of sight, Neil carried Arya to the bedroom and laid her on the bed.

The wedding photo that had hung on the wall was gone. It now lay stuffed in a corner, carelessly covered with a cloth—right over her face.

Arya smiled bitterly. Neil hated her so much he could not even look at their picture.

"Rest now, Ary," Neil said softly. "I'm going to the study to finish some work."

"Neil," she called suddenly. "Do you remember my favorite flower?"

He hesitated, caught off guard, then answered quickly, "Of course. Tulips, because I like them. So you liked them too."

He smiled. "That's always been you."

Arya laughed softly. "Yes. That's always been me."

Always choosing what he liked. Always putting him first. How foolish she had been.

As soon as the door closed, Arya's smile vanished. Neil had not gone to the study.

She forced herself to swing her legs over the side of the bed and stood, bracing against the wall.

Each step sent sharp pain through her body.

Ten short meters to the window took five minutes. Sweat soaked her forehead.

At the window, she saw Neil and Lindsay wrapped in each other's arms under the moonlight.