Chapter 3

The living room falls silent.

I don’t expect Victor to answer.

Still, it feels as though someone has carved a piece out of my chest.

Back in the bedroom, I look around at the room and suddenly find the whole thing absurd.

Before we got married, I wanted to renovate this house.

I wanted to replace the old wallpaper. Tear out the heavy walnut cabinets. Even the bedroom lights—I wanted to change them to something I actually liked.

Victor refused.

“I want everything here to stay exactly the way it is.”

Back then, I thought he was simply controlling. Or sentimental.

But it turns out he was never attached to the house.

He was attached to Selena’s shadow.

And to him, I was nothing more than a vessel carrying her eyes.

In the middle of the night, I hear Victor speaking quietly to the housekeeper at the far end of the hallway.

“Have someone prepare the sunroom in the east wing.”

“Her hand is injured. Make some warm porridge in the kitchen and send it up with her medicine and warm water.”

His voice is calm and precise.

He gives those instructions with the same ease he uses when handling the darker business of the family.

I used to think that kind of attention belonged only to me.

Five years of intimacy, and in the end, it turns out I was only borrowing the light of someone else’s eyes.

Half-asleep, I feel Victor get into bed behind me.

He wraps an arm around me. His rough palm gently covers my eyes.

My entire body goes rigid.

He holds me and lets out a quiet sigh.

“Ivy, I never meant to lie to you. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d overthink it.”

“She died in that car accident. The person she worried about most was Leah.”

“You’ve always been so understanding. I knew you’d understand.”

Maybe today is the first time I truly see him.

He has never cared what kind of person I am. He says I’m understanding. So I have to be understanding.

I don’t want to struggle. I don’t want to cry. But the tears fall anyway.

The next morning, Leah is sitting alone in the living room, drinking coffee.

I open the cabinet and find that my usual mug is gone.

In its place are two mugs printed with photographs.

One shows Leah standing beside a woman who looks remarkably like her.

The other shows Victor with that same woman, their faces pressed together as they smile at the camera.

Bright.

Relaxed.

Happy.

I close the cabinet.

The sunlight suddenly feels too harsh. So does the smile in that photograph.

Leah appears behind me.

She reaches past me and takes one of the mugs, the corner of her lips lifting.

“Mrs. Moretti likes this brand of coffee too? What a coincidence. My sister loved it as well.”

The coffee is bitter and harsh. I have never liked it.

Victor does.

“Oh, and that antique vase.”

Leah turns toward the display case beside the fireplace, her voice light.

“My sister used to love it. I can’t believe you have such good taste that you kept it.”

She opens the cabinet and takes out the vase.

Then she deliberately holds it up in front of me.

“Isn’t it strange?”

“Once someone really loves something, no matter how much time passes, they can never truly forget it.”

I look at the vase for a few seconds.

Then I say calmly,

“I don’t like it.”

Leah blinks.

She clearly doesn’t expect such a direct answer.

The vase has never belonged in this cold, luxurious house. More than once, I wanted to put it away. But every time, Victor looked at me with disappointment.

“Ivy, I’m the Don of this family. If you’re going to be my wife, you should at least learn to appreciate these things.”

The sound of the door opening cuts through the memory.

Leah sees Victor walk in. Then she suddenly lets out a cold laugh.

Her fingers loosen.

The antique vase crashes to the floor.

Shards scatter everywhere. She stares at the broken pieces, her eyes wide as if she has been terrified out of her mind.

“Mrs. Moretti, why would you smash my sister’s favorite vase?”

Victor’s face darkens instantly.

He crosses the room in a few long strides and grabs my wrist.

“Ivy, when did you become this cruel?”

“Apologize.”

I meet his eyes.

There is no hesitation in them. No doubt. Only blatant protection for her.

I pull at my lips.

The smile that comes out is bitter.

“Victor, I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do.”

“Look at yourself. Are you defending her... or her sister?”