Chapter 1

The day before I was due home from a business trip, a new entry popped up on my weight-tracking app. It was seven pounds lighter than me.

I changed my flight and went home immediately.

The snack cabinet was half-empty. The stash of Cokes in the fridge was gone, and even the milk had been replaced with strawberry-flavored—a flavor I despise. On the coffee table sat a few bags of strawberry cookies, something my husband and I never eat.

I dialed his number. "Who's been over?"

After a month away, it felt like someone else had been living in my home.

There was a distinct pause on his end. "...Drake brought his girlfriend over yesterday for a bit. Why? Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing," I said softly and hung up.

Then, I opened the Instagram of Drake's girlfriend. Her latest post screamed at me from the screen:

【OMG! Does anyone else have a strawberry allergy?! The smell alone makes me want to puke! I CAN'T STAND IT!!】

...

I thought back to the hesitation in my husband John's voice. A gut feeling told me he was cheating. But I couldn't accept that ten years of us could rot away so easily.

While I was still debating whether to confront him, I noticed the post about the strawberry allergy had vanished. I refreshed several times. It was definitely deleted.

Just then, a message from Drake came through.

【Hey, Nina. Did my girlfriend mess with any of your stuff yesterday?】

【John just called, said you seemed a little upset. My bad, I'm really sorry. Please don't take it to heart.】

I stared at the text, so obviously a cover-up it was almost laughable. I simply replied: 【k.】

Then I texted my best friend, a private investigator. 【I need you to watch John.】

With that done, I threw out every single strawberry-flavored item in the house.

That evening, when John came home holding a bouquet of roses, I noticed a new pink string bracelet on his wrist. A tiny strawberry charm dangled from it.

I stared at the charm and smiled. "Who gave you that?"

John placed the flowers in a vase, his hand instinctively covering his wrist. His smile was a little stiff. "Some college kids were handing them out for a project."

"If you like it," he added, "you can have it."

He made a show of trying to undo the knot, but his fingers just toyed with it, waiting for me to tell him not to bother.

I just watched him perform. Finally, he gave up with an awkward chuckle. "Actually, I think Drake's little niece would love this. I'll save it for her."

He stuffed the bracelet into his pocket and moved in to hug me. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming back early?"

"Babe," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, "I've missed you every single day this month."

But I caught the faint, sweet scent of strawberry on his collar and shoved him away.

John looked taken aback. "I have a cold," I explained flatly.

He knew how miserable I got when I was sick, but if he'd been paying any real attention, he would have seen I had no symptoms at all. Instead, he offered a few perfunctory words of concern.

Then, with a palpable sense of relief, he said, "Oh. Well, you get some rest. I'll sleep in the guest room tonight."

I sat on the edge of our bed, listening to the shower run. His phone lit up on the nightstand. A message from a cartoon strawberry avatar popped onto the screen:

【Daddy, did you kiss her?】

My heart hammered against my ribs. My fingers trembled as I tried to unlock his phone. After a few failed attempts, I remembered his father's birthday. It worked.

The most recent message in their chat was:

【If you dare touch her, I'll go find another daddy to play with.】

Scrolling up, I saw John's reply:

【She came home early. No contact for a few days. Be good.】

I tapped on the strawberry's profile.

No pictures of her face.

But her entire feed was a monument to their affair: Cotton candy at an amusement park, popcorn at the movies, shopping bags from luxury boutiques. In every photo, a pair of intertwined hands was visible. I recognized the signet ring on one of them. It was the one I’d given him.

It was John. The Strawberry girl was documenting their sweet little life.

Every post was a new knife in my heart.

【Day 88 with my Daddy.】

【Celebrating the first time Daddy tried strawberry ice cream with me.】

【Daddy finally learned to call me 'baby' today, so I'm rewarding him with a kiss~】

So, behind my back, John was using these childish, saccharine pet names to dote on another girl.

The latest post was a selfie of her hand holding up a diamond ring. The caption read:

【Daddy says we'll get married after I graduate. Isn't that a little fast?】

The diamond glittered, impossibly romantic in the sunlight.

I suddenly remembered what John’s colleague had told me last month, his voice full of conspiratorial excitement. "John dropped a cool two million on a blue diamond at an auction. It has to be a surprise for your anniversary!"

I had waited and waited, expecting him to present it to me at any moment. Only now did I understand—

That diamond was never meant for me.

The phone buzzed again. The Strawberry was spamming him with cute, pleading emojis.

I turned the screen off and quietly placed the phone back where it was.

Looking up, I saw John emerging from the bathroom, towel-drying his hair. For a fleeting moment, I was thrown back to our early days, crammed into a tiny rental apartment right after college. A strange impulse made me ask, "John, will you ever fall in love with someone else?"

We had survived the toughest, poorest years of our lives together. We were like two pieces of driftwood in a raging river, clinging to each other to stay afloat.

Now, I looked him straight in the eye and asked, each word deliberate, "Will you betray me?"

The twenty-two-year-old John would have pulled me into his arms, his chin resting on the top of my head, and promised, "Never. Not unless I'm dead."

But the thirty-two-year-old John just looked down, fiddling with his towel. His voice was muffled. "Don't be silly. Get some rest."

He didn't even have the courage to look at me.

I sat awake all night, my mind racing, trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. We had made it past the seven-year itch. We were supposed to be each other's one true love. How did we end up here?

The only thing I knew for sure was that some things, once they rot, can never be fixed.

And this was a wound John had carved into my heart with his own hands.

The next morning, next to the breakfast John had left out, was a glass of peach soda.

I stared at the condensation beading on the glass, a memory of one of the Strawberry's posts flashing in my mind:

【My cute Daddy’s special peach spritzer~】

I'm allergic to peaches.

A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I lunged for the bathroom, clutching the toilet as I threw up everything.

John had left early. I sat in the silent room, a cold dread washing over me as I read the investigation file my friend had sent.

I had imagined she might be some executive's daughter—young, beautiful, an intern at John's company, maybe even brilliant.

What I never, ever expected was that the Strawberry was a student who had just turned eighteen.

"Is John insane?" my friend Jenna raged over the phone. "This girl looks like she's still in high school!"

In the photo, the girl had her hair in pigtails, wearing what looked like a school uniform, flashing a peace sign at the camera.

I flipped to the last page of the file. Born in 2003. Fifteen years younger than John. Her own mother was only five years older than him.

The nausea I'd just suppressed came roaring back. My blood ran cold.

He had changed a long time ago. I was the one who had been fooling myself.

Childhood trauma had taught me that my first instinct in any crisis was to flee.

"I want a divorce," I said, my voice calm, almost devoid of emotion. "I know a divorce case is messy, but I won't let some teenager destroy ten years of my life."

On the other end of the line, Jenna was quiet for a moment. "Nina," she asked carefully, "are you really okay?"

How could I be?

But it had happened. And just like when I was a kid, I would protect myself.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm not some lovesick fool."

Jenna let out a small laugh, her voice firm. "You got it. I'll help you every step of the way."

I drove to the hotel. Jenna had sent me the location. "The girl's family is having a big dinner tonight. John's there."

I found the private dining room. Through the glass door, I saw John, bent over, adjusting the hem of the girl's dress as if he were the host.

She was in pigtails and a cocktail dress, John's suit jacket draped over her shoulders. She pouted. "It's all your fault! I haven't slept well for days. Look at these dark circles!"

John just laughed and pinched her cheek. "I'll transfer you ten thousand dollars later. Go buy yourself a whole new skincare set."

I clutched my purse, my knuckles white, as I watched John pull a file from his briefcase. "This is the deed to a villa near your university. I'll transfer it to your name once you start."

"You're my little Strawberry," he cooed. "I'll take care of everything for you. Don't worry."

The girl squealed and threw herself into his arms. He caught her expertly, his gaze so tender it burned.

It reminded me of when we bought our first house. John had held me just like that, in the middle of the empty, unfinished room, pointing out the window. "Nina, we made it," he'd said. "Things are only going to get better from here. We have a whole lifetime together. When we have kids, we'll move into that house in the good school district over there. Nina, I'm so happy!"

That night, he had told me he loved me over and over again.

So gentle.

For years, our relationship had been solid. Just last month, when my flight hit severe turbulence, he was ready to book a flight to come to me, his voice trembling on the phone. "Nina, if anything happens to you, what's the point of me even being alive? Wait for me, I'm coming right now!"

How could the same man who loved me like that now be cradling another woman in the palm of his hand?

I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth, watching as he slipped a credit card into the girl's pocket. "I've already got a fund set aside for our future, but you have to promise me you'll focus on school."

She stood on her toes and kissed his chin. "I know, Daddy! But..." Her tone shifted. "What about that old hag? What are you going to do about her?"

"I don't like her. She's old and frumpy, and a total workaholic!" she whined. "Besides, I don't want to be the other woman. You're my Daddy, and mine alone! She's the other woman!"

As her voice started to crack with tears, John looked heartbroken. He quickly pulled her into a hug, comforting her. "Baby, don't cry. I'll handle it."

"I'll tell her everything."

"I love you."

The ground fell out from beneath me. It was like being on a plane at thirty thousand feet, only for the engines to suddenly fail.

I stood in the shadows of the hallway, saved all the evidence, and requested a printout of all our bank transactions.

Then, I called John.

It rang seven or eight times before he picked up. In the background, I could hear the girl's cloying voice, "Who is it?"

John covered the receiver, his voice low and impatient. "I'm in a meeting. I'll call you back later."

I ignored him. "John, we need to talk."

"We can talk now," I said, "or you can talk to my lawyer tomorrow."

A few seconds of silence. Then his voice turned syrupy sweet. "Don't be like that, honey. It's a really important client."

I knew John too well. And he knew me.

I've always been perceptive. Years ago, when his young secretary gave him one too many lingering looks, I figured out her intentions in a day. John had her transferred to a branch office the next morning.

He once cupped my face in his hands and said, "These eyes of yours... they're too sharp. I'd never dare to try anything. I'll always make you feel secure."

Now, I watched his hand—the hand that used to wear my ring—placing food on another girl's plate.

"John," I whispered, his name a ghost on my lips. "You know I don't miss a thing."

The line went dead silent.

He was about to speak when the girl's sickly-sweet voice cut in. "Daddy~ My parents are waiting for you."

John spoke quickly. "Nina, work emergency. Talk to you later."

He hung up.

The dial tone was like a slap in the face. When I tried to call back, his phone was off.

My friend sent me a screenshot from her surveillance feed. "Looks like John's already won over the parents. God knows if it was with money or something else."

"Her graduation party is next month," Jenna's text continued. "I bet that's when he plans to make his position as the new son-in-law official."

Any last shred of doubt I had was crushed into dust.

I told my friend to proceed with the plan. If I had any hesitation about our relationship before today, John's actions had made the decision for me.

I began preparing for the divorce in earnest. I liquidated our joint assets, sold off my shares in our shared ventures, and met with clients to redraft our contracts, removing John's name from everything. I was going solo.

While John was taking his new girl diving in Miami, posting pictures of them holding hands on a yacht, I was building my new life.

While he was busy helping her choose a university, apply for dorms, and tap into our shared network of contacts for her future, I was buying a new apartment and moving all my things out.

While he was hiring a team of designers to plan the most lavish, extravagant graduation party for her, I was packing my life into boxes.

The day I was moving the last of my things, John came home unexpectedly to grab a file.

He frowned at the half-empty closet and living room. "Honey, what are you doing?"

I stood in the doorway, clutching a cardboard box, the cloying scent of strawberry perfume—the same one he'd bought the girl for her birthday—wafting off him. Even after everything, the pain was still sharp.

"Are you spring cleaning?" he asked, then nodded, answering his own question. "It's about time. Some of this old stuff should have been thrown out ages ago."

He loosened his tie, revealing a fresh, pink hickey on his collarbone. "I told you to get rid of it before, but you were always too sentimental. We're doing well now; no need to hold onto the past."

"Want to redecorate? I can have the designer come over next week. You can pick whatever style you like."

The edge of a photo album inside the box dug into my palm. It held every picture of us, from our school uniforms to our wedding attire. This house, the one we had designed and decorated together, was filled with memories.

"John," I said, looking him in the eye, a sudden smile playing on my lips. "You're right. A lot of things are old. It's time to let them go."

He froze for a second, a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. "I just need to grab something and I'll be out of your hair. It's been crazy at work, but I'll make it up to you when things calm down."

I nodded, not asking any questions.

"John," I called out as he was about to leave.

He stopped and turned back. The sunlight cast a delicate shadow from his eyelashes, and for a heart-stopping moment, he looked like the boy who got into a fight for me all those years ago.

"Goodbye," I said with a smile.

The twenty-two-year-old John. The thirty-two-year-old John.

Goodbye to them all.

A strange, unsettling feeling washed over him, a sense that something was shifting beneath his feet, but he quickly dismissed it as his imagination.

He offered a gentle smile. "I'll be back soon."

I cleared everything out. I listed the house with an agent, leaving nothing behind. My things went to my new apartment. His were packed up and sent to his girlfriend's house.

The day of the Strawberry's graduation party was as lavish as the wedding I had once dreamed of having with John.

He stood at the hotel entrance, greeting guests, wearing the same style of tuxedo he wore at our wedding. The girl, in a princess dress, bounced around him, the pink diamond on her ring finger dazzling and obnoxious.

I whispered into my Bluetooth headset.

"Begin."