Episode 2 - Her Return, His Regret

The bar was dimly lit, thick with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The air vibrated with laughter, clinking glasses, and loud music — but for Lilian Brook, it was just another long, painful night.

She tightened her apron and pushed open the backroom door, trying to hold herself together. Her mother was still lying weak in a hospital bed. The bills were mounting, her savings gone, and Ethan — her husband — hadn’t offered a single word of help since their wedding night.

Lilian had stopped expecting kindness from him.

But she hadn’t stopped hoping.

Her heart froze when she stepped into the main room.

There he was.

Ethan Brook.

Seated in the center of the VIP lounge, surrounded by his powerful friends — the kind who laughed too loudly and lived like the world belonged to them. Ethan’s laughter — low, rare, and sharp — cut through the noise. A woman in a red dress sat beside him, her hand boldly resting on his arm as she whispered something that made him smirk.

Lilian’s breath caught in her throat. Every part of her screamed to turn back, to disappear before he saw her.

She took one shaky step back—

“Hey.”

The voice froze her blood.

Ethan’s.

“Come here,” he said coldly, lifting his glass. “Serve me.”

Her fingers went numb around the tray. “Ethan…” she whispered, her voice trembling, but he didn’t even look at her.

One of his friends leaned forward, grinning. “Ethan, you know her?”

Ethan’s reply was like ice. “How would I know someone like this?”

The words hit harder than a slap. He said it as if she were dirt beneath his shoes. As if she wasn’t his wife. As if she’d never meant a thing.

The man chuckled and rose from his seat, swaggering toward her. His eyes swept over her body with mock admiration. “Pretty thing, aren’t you?” he said, reaching out to tilt her chin up.

Lilian froze, her pulse roaring in her ears. She turned to Ethan — begging silently for him to stop this, to say something. Anything.

But Ethan didn’t even blink.

His eyes stayed fixed on his drink, his expression unreadable — detached, cruelly calm.

The man’s fingers brushed her skin. That small act shattered the fragile wall she’d built inside herself.

Before she could think, she snatched a glass of wine from the table and threw it in his face.

The entire bar went still.

The man staggered back, red wine dripping down his cheeks. His expression twisted — first in shock, then fury.

“You’ll regret that.”

The slap came fast, hard. The sound cracked across the room. Lilian stumbled backward, her cheek burning, the tray clattering to the floor.

Still, Ethan didn’t move.

“Apologize,” the man hissed, seizing her arm. “You think you can humiliate me? Get down and lick it clean.”

Lilian’s voice shook. “Please… I—”

“Do it!”

Before she could respond, another voice sliced through the tension — soft, venomous.

Emily.

She rose from her seat beside Ethan, her lips curling in a mock smile. She walked toward Lilian with slow, measured steps, heels clicking like a countdown.

“Oh, poor thing,” Emily cooed, gripping Lilian’s chin and forcing her to look up. “You still don’t understand, do you?”

Lilian’s breath hitched. “Emily, please—”

Emily laughed, low and cruel. She grabbed a bottle of wine from the table and, without warning, poured it over Lilian’s head. The liquid ran down her face, staining her clothes, her dignity, her soul.

Leaning close, Emily whispered into her ear, her breath hot and hateful.

“You’ll always be my substitute. You don’t belong in his heart. You never did.”

Then she shoved her hard, sending her stumbling backward.

Lilian looked up at Ethan again — her husband, her love, her heartbreak.

He was watching her now.

But not with pity.

Not even with anger.

Only indifference.

The woman beside him leaned in, whispering something that made him smirk again. That small, heartless curve of his lips broke something inside her completely.

Her heart twisted painfully. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

Is this what I’ve become to you, Ethan Brook? A joke in your world?

Her trembling hands reached for a glass. If this was what he wanted — humiliation — she’d give it to him.

She lifted the glass to her lips and drank.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

The liquid burned her throat, each swallow heavier than the last — bitter, scorching, endless. Each gulp tasted like shame, like surrender, like the death of every dream she ever had.

By the fourth glass, her vision blurred. The laughter around her blurred into noise. Her knees trembled, the tray slipping from her hands.

Her last glance found Ethan again — blank, distant, unreachable.

And beside him, Emily’s satisfied smile.

Then the world went black.

The music, the laughter, the whispers — all faded into silence.

All that remained was the echo of her breaking heart.