Chapter 3

Annabel felt her blood boil. Husband and wife, huh? Before Annabel could even process what she was seeing, the next moment hit harder. Tristan removed the beaded bracelet from his wrist—one she had never seen him without—and gently slipped it onto Cassie's hand. "And don't ever call yourself a jinx again. This bracelet was blessed, and I've worn it for seven years. From now on, it's yours. May it keep you safe." Cassie, overwhelmed with emotion, started to cry and hugged him tightly. Outside the door, Annabel stood frozen, her vision blurring as if the weight of the ocean had crashed down on her chest. That bracelet wasn't just some accessory. She had gotten it for Tristan when she turned 18. She crawled on her knees up the slippery path of a remote mountain sanctuary, in a downpour, mile after mile, hands bloodied, knees torn, until she finally reached the top to have it blessed. When she came back soaked and shaking, Tristan's eyes had gone red the second he saw her. He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. "Are you out of your mind, Anna?" he whispered, voice trembling. "Why'd you put yourself through this?" With a satisfied smile, she placed the bracelet onto his palm. "This will keep you safe and healthy." He returned her a kiss and said, "I'll cherish it and wear it forever." For seven years, Tristan truly never took it off—not during the most high-profile meetings or their most intimate moments. The bracelet had always remained wrapped around his wrist. Now, he had taken it off and placed it on another woman. Annabel's heart felt like it was being carved open with a dull blade. It was excruciating. So, this was it. His "forever" only lasted for seven years. She turned on her heels and walked away, legs numb, the ground beneath her feeling like a cloud. By the time she returned home, it was already night. Her phone buzzed as soon as she stepped in. "Honey, an urgent work matter came up, and I have to be abroad for a few days. I promise I'll make it up to you when I'm back," Tristan wrote. Annabel simply stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard while trembling slightly. "Is it an urgent work matter, or a secret rendezvous with your wife?" she typed, only to backspace on each word in the end. Her tears splattered on her screen, blurring the text messages. Then, she began packing her luggage. Everything that proved her identity—ID, passport, bank card—was kept in her bags. Three days later, Tristan came back. He pushed open the door with a soft smile, holding a bouquet of Rosa multiflora in one hand and a strawberry shortcake in the other. "Honey, I'm home!" Annabel stood there in the center of the living room, her gaze fixed on him. He stepped forward to set the flowers and cake on the table before reaching out to embrace her. "Things at work got crazy, and I had to fly out. I wouldn't have stayed away from you this long if I could help it. "Don't be mad at me, okay?" She tilted away from him, dodging his hug, and replied calmly, "I'm not mad. Just get to work." Tristan stiffened for a second, then smiled. "I'm done with work—wrapped everything up. Now, it's all about making it up to you." He took her hand, eyes full of anticipation. "Also, I've got a surprise for you." Without waiting for her response, he pulled her into the car. About 30 minutes later, they pulled up in front of a concert hall. Annabel followed Tristan inside and was immediately struck by the familiar melody echoing through the space. It was her favorite piece, performed by the orchestra she adored most. She froze for a second, stunned. Around them, guests were already seated, but all eyes shifted toward her. A few whispered to each other, "Mr. Morse really pulled out all the stops. This whole performance is all for his wife!" "I heard he flew that orchestra all the way from abroad. Apparently, they're only performing her favorite pieces today." "It must've cost a fortune, but you can't put a price on love like that." "What does money matter? Mr. Morse is famous for being a devoted husband!" Annabel stood under the dazzling lights, surrounded by whispers of envy and admiration. In front of her was Tristan, smiling like he had hung the stars just for her. Deep inside, she felt like she was drowning in ice water—numb, frozen, aching. He gave her the grand romance, the fairy-tale moments everyone envied, only for him to marry and love another woman behind her back.