Chapter 5

Cynthia picked the item up expressionlessly and held it out in front of Oliver. "What is this?" Oliver glanced at it from the corner of his eye, and his expression instantly changed. His hand on the steering wheel slipped, nearly crashing into the median strip. "What are you doing?" Cynthia, pale with fear, clutched the handle above the car window tightly. Thankfully, they weren't on the highway, and traffic was light. By the time he regained control of the vehicle, his back was already drenched in cold sweat. He pulled over to the side of the road and looked at her anxiously. "Sweetheart, are you okay? A bird flew at the windshield and startled me. I swear I won't lose focus again." Startled by a bird? Or by the condom in her hand? Cynthia knew better. She tossed the condom onto his lap, still with that same calm expression. "Then, explain this." Oliver's eyes flickered. He picked it up distastefully and immediately tossed it out the window. "That damn Bernard. He borrowed my car yesterday, saying he had something urgent to take care of. I didn't know he was out doing something so filthy. "Sweetheart, don't tell me you think it's mine? That's not fair—I swear, I can't even muster a hint of interest in any woman who isn't you." As he spoke, he raised his right hand and made a solemn vow. His tone was sincere, and his gaze unwavering. If Cynthia hadn't seen his betrayal with her own eyes, she might've believed him. She lowered his gaze, her voice calm. "I believe you." She had already decided to leave. What was the point of dragging things out any further? It was better to let things end this way. Even so, disappointment still rippled quietly through her heart. The engine started up again. She reclined her seat, found a comfortable position, and closed her eyes to rest. Oliver, satisfied with his "flawless performance", secretly breathed a sigh of relief. However, for some reason, unease gnawed at him, like he'd overlooked something crucial. He shook off the feeling and took off his jacket, gently draping it over her shoulders before continuing the drive. … They soon arrived at the port. With Oliver's help, Cynthia boarded the yacht. His friends, upon seeing the couple, immediately broke into teasing grins. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Oliver bringing his wife along—planning to blind us with a public display of affection or what?" "Cynthia, I'm telling you, in our circle, Oliver is one of the rare loyal ones. Plenty of women have their eyes on him, so you better keep watch." As they mentioned the admirers, everyone laughed knowingly. Possibly afraid that they had said too much, Oliver waved them off. "Cut the nonsense. Move—can't you see you're blocking Cynthia's way?" "Right this way, Oliver, Cynthia." The group joked and laughed, creating a warm atmosphere, but it didn't last long. Melissa's arrival shattered it. "Melissa? What are you doing here?" Oliver's eyes flashed a warning as he looked at her. Melissa bit her bright red lips, looking wounded and pitiful in her flowing white dress, and glowing under the moonlight. "What? Just because Leo organized the party, you can come, but I can't?" Sensing the tension, Oliver's friends quickly stepped in to smooth things over. "Of course you can. We're thrilled to have a beauty like you join. Come on up—the party's about to begin!" As the party kicked off, drinks flowed and people sang. Eventually, the group started a game of Truth or Dare. From the moment they entered the cabin, Melissa glued to Oliver like a shadow. Though he never looked at her directly, he didn't push her away either. Then, the spoon landed on Oliver. All eyes turned to him. He lounged lazily in the booth like he hadn't even noticed. "Truth or dare, Oliver?" "Truth." "Then, don't hold back—who's the woman you love the most?" Every gaze flicked between Cynthia and Melissa. A show was about to begin. Oliver glared at the guy who asked, then cleared his throat lightly. "Of course, it's Cynthia—my wife." His voice was soft, almost unreal. It was the most expected answer, yet Melissa's eyes suddenly reddened. She gave Oliver a sorrowful look. Then, she stood up, clearly upset, announcing, "I'm going to the restroom." As she walked away, his expression became unreadable. He slowly withdrew the arm that had been around Cynthia and muttered, "I'm going for a smoke." A smoke? Funny—he went in the exact opposite direction. Coincidence? Maybe. Cynthia's expression remained indifferent. "Looks like Oliver still can't let go of Melissa." "Who could? She's the classic 'first love' you never forget. Plenty of folks in our circle have divorced over their 'first loves'." "Poor Cynthia, being played by both of them." "Shh—keep it down. Don't let her hear you." … The party was meaningless to Cynthia. She made an excuse to head out for some fresh air. The salty sea breeze brushed her cheeks, as if blowing away the haze in her heart. She leaned against the railing, eyes closed, enjoying the rare peace. She didn't notice the dark figure quietly approaching behind her. The woman stepped closer, stopping just an arm's length away. Then, she suddenly lunged, using all her strength to push Cynthia toward the sea. However, Cynthia turned calmly and sidestepped her attack, sending the woman stumbling over the railing. Cynthia caught her just in time, demanding, "It's been so long, yet you are pulling off tricks like this?" "Melissa!"