Chapter 2

At 8:00 pm, Christian pushed open the door to my hospital room. A bag of fruit hung from his left hand, and a bouquet of carnations in his right.

Carnations were Summer's favorite flowers. I preferred daisies, but of course, he didn't know that.

"How are you feeling today, Mari?"

He set the flowers on the bedside table, bent down, and kissed my forehead. His lips were dry.

"Have some fruit. It'll help you recover," he said, handing a freshly peeled apple to me. The peel hung in one long, unbroken strip, and his smile was the same as the day he proposed three years ago.

I took the apple and bit into it. It was sweet.

"Mari, I'll be busy at work tomorrow, so I'll be a little late."

A voice popped into my head. "Not work. He's going house-hunting with her."

I looked into his eyes and smiled. "Okay. Don't work too hard."

The next day, I was discharged from the hospital.

Christian came to pick me up. He carried the luggage, opened the car door for me, and buckled my seat belt. Every gesture was so attentive it felt rehearsed.

Instead of driving us home, he turned off the main road into a narrow alley. The farther we went, the more mold-stained the walls became.

Finally, he stopped in front of an old apartment building. The first-floor unit faced nothing but the wall of the building opposite, blocking out every trace of sunlight.

"We've run into some cash flow problems at the company," Christian said as he carried our bags inside, his tone eerily calm as if he were reading the weather forecast.

"We had to mortgage the apartment for now, so we'll stay here for the time being—just until the company gets back on its feet. Then, we'll move back."

The voice in my head spoke again. "This is it. We lived here for two years in our previous life, in this 130-square-foot unit with no windows but mold. I coughed here every night."

The room smelled damp. Water stains spread across the corners of the walls. When I pressed down on the mattress, moisture seeped to the surface.

Christian set the luggage at the foot of the bed and glanced at his watch. "Mari, the company needs some working capital. Has your grandpa…"

Kayla chimed in. "Here it comes. He said the same thing in our previous life."

"How much do you need?" I asked.

"700 thousand dollars, to start with," he answered. "I've already spoken to your grandpa. He said he'd think about it. If you give him another call, I'm sure he'll listen to you."

I looked into Christian's eyes. He stood beside the mold-covered wall, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his hair combed neatly into place.

His mouth was talking about the company's cash flow, but his eyes were watching my reaction to see if I would hesitate, question him, or call Grandpa to verify his story.

I lowered my head and lifted Kayla out of her carrier, holding her close against my chest. "Sure. I'll call him tomorrow."

Christian smiled. He walked over and planted another kiss on my forehead, his lips as chapped as earlier. "Thank you for doing this. Once we get through this difficult period, everything will be fine again."

After he left, I sat on the damp, cold bed with Kayla in my arms. The wall outside our window blocked the 3:00 pm sun, turning the room into something that looked like evening.

My phone lit up. Alistair had sent me a video. The footage showed our allegedly mortgaged apartment.

In the living room, the same gray blackout curtains I had picked out remained. The couch I had spent two months sourcing and piecing together from different furniture markets sat there.

The only distinctive things were the two glasses of red wine and a plate of fruit on the coffee table.

Like a sore thumb, Summer leaned against the couch, wearing my army-green wool coat. Barefoot, she rested her toes against the edge of the coffee table.

Christian sat beside her, holding a navy velvet box.

She opened it, revealing a pearl necklace—my late mother's, no less. She put it around her neck, looked at herself in the mirror, then turned back to Christian.

The video had no sound, but her lips were easy to read. "Does it look good on me?"

Christian nodded. She then leaned closer and kissed him. It wasn't just a simple peck, but a passionate kiss.

The video was 2 minutes and 17 seconds long. Alistair added a message underneath. "This was the footage from the home security cameras two hours after you were discharged, Ms. Stone."

"That was Grandma's necklace, Mommy's couch, and Mommy's living room. And that's Mommy's—"

"I know, darling."

I saved the video into an encrypted folder, then replied to Alistair, "Keep the footage coming."

On the third day, Christian came. He didn't bring any fruit, but a stack of documents for me to sign instead.

"The company needs to use some assets as collateral for now. The money from your grandpa hasn't come through, so we'll use our own assets to cover things for the time being."

The documents were a property mortgage agreement, an equity pledge agreement, and a personal joint liability guarantee.

"Mommy, you signed these in our previous life. After you signed them, we didn't even own this unit. He took them to the bank, borrowed 440 thousand dollars, and transferred the money into Nocturne Media."

I picked up the pen and signed, but not with my name. Christian didn't even look closely. He simply put the documents back into his briefcase and kissed my forehead.

"And when will the money from your grandpa come through?"

"I'll remind him again."

He frowned for a brief moment, then quickly put on that familiar smile. "Make it quick. The company can't afford to wait any longer."

I watched Christian walk out. The wall by the doorway made his figure look thin and stretched out. The sound of his leather shoes against the polished stone floor echoed through the empty room.

"In our previous life, you stood here watching him leave, too. Back then, all you could think about was how to save his company."

I raised my phone and took a picture of his back. This time, all I thought about was saving it so it would be useful in court someday.

Alistair sent me videos every day.

On the fourth day, Christian and Summer went grocery shopping together. She pushed the cart while he placed things inside.

He picked up a box of strawberries and put them in the cart. She glanced at them and shook her head. Seeing that, he put the strawberries back and replaced them with cherries. She nodded.

Alistair wrote, "Christian doesn't know what your preferences are, but he knows hers."

On the fifth day, Summer was trying on wedding dresses in the living room. The white gown came with a long train, and they had to push the coffee table against the wall so she could spin around in it.

Christian sat on the couch watching her. His arms were crossed over his chest, his head slightly tilted to the side. His expression was one I had never seen before.

The corners of his eyes curved, and his lips pressed together in a restrained smile. His whole body leaned forward, from his neck down to his waist, as if he was looking at something he had finally gotten his hands on.

When he saw me in my wedding dress back then, he didn't look like this. He cried instead.

I never knew one person could have such different reactions for two different women. Somewhere between tears and smiles, there was an entire lifetime.

Alistair commented, "She said she just wanted to try them on first. The bridal company said this was a new design. She booked six different styles."