Chapter 5
After I left, Veyne stood in the cemetery for a long, long time.
He didn’t understand what was wrong with him. He’d told himself he was tired of me, that he’d already moved on. But when he heard me say I’d loved the wrong person… something in his chest twisted unbearably.
He stopped me, instinctively trying to hold on to something.
But the woman who used to look at him with eyes full of love now stared back with nothing but coldness.
That’s when panic began to creep in.
Sylvia came up and tugged at his sleeve. For the first time, he felt annoyed by her touch.
He pulled his arm free and told the driver to take her home. Then he went back to the villa alone.
Every corner of that house was soaked in memories of us–sweet, vivid, inescapable.
He walked upstairs, opened the safe, and stared at our red marriage certificate for a long time.
We’re still married, he thought. She’s still mine.
So what if she was a little distant now? In the end, she would come back to him. She always did.
That thought calmed him a little.
But when he lay down in bed, he couldn’t sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was me–bleeding from my shoulder, carefully scooping up my father’s ashes.
He snapped his eyes open, kicked the foot of the bed in frustration, and stormed downstairs to grab a few bottles of liquor.
Only after he was drunk did he return to the bedroom. He clutched the marriage certificate to his chest and finally passed out.
When he woke the next morning, the photo inside the certificate was torn.
The half that belonged to me… was gone.
His eyelid twitched uncontrollably. His heart started pounding.
He threw the blankets back and searched the entire bed. Eventually, he found the photo crumpled and torn–tangled in the sheets.
It was beyond repair.
Panicked, he pressed it under a teacup for hours, hoping to smooth it out. But nothing helped. It stayed damaged.
Sylvia arrived with breakfast just as he was frowning into his phone, making call after call, trying to find someone who could restore a damaged ID photo.
She glanced at the photo he’d pieced back together and something bitter and poisonous flashed in her eyes.
“You can’t fix ID photos,” she said sweetly. “Just take a new one with Eleanor.”
If it had been the old Veyne, he would’ve scoffed, tossed the photo in the trash, lifted her chin and said, ‘Why take one with her? I’d rather take one with you.”
But today, Veyne didn’t even look at her.
He just stood there, lost in thought.
“Veyne?” she asked again, her voice uncertain.
Ever since the cemetery yesterday, she’d felt something was off with him—and now that unease was turning to dread.
She reached out to hold his hand, but before she could touch him, he stood up abruptly and walked out.
“I’ve got something to do. Eat without me.”
At the door, he paused again. “When you’re done, have the driver take you home.”
Sylvia nearly exploded.
Since when did Veyne dismiss her like this?
It had to be Eleanor. That bitch must’ve done something behind the scenes.
Even in death, she can’t stay out of my way!
Fuming, Sylvia looked up and saw the wedding photo of me and Veyne on the wall. She grabbed a chair and smashed it to the floor.
Veyne didn’t know any of this.
He drove aimlessly, the marriage certificate on the seat beside him, wondering whether to go to the city hall to ask about reprinting it.
Halfway there, he stopped.
Why not just go to her directly and take a new photo together?
But… under what excuse?
Wouldn’t that make it look like he was admitting fault? Like he was the one begging for reconciliation?
Then he glanced again at the half–missing photo.
And turned the car toward my apartment.
Why did he need an excuse? Eleanor had always cared deeply about our marriage. She’d cried for days when she lost her wedding ring.” This marriage certificate? It would mean even more.
He knocked for a long time.
No one answered.
He stepped into the hallway and tried calling me. The line went straight to voicemail. His messages showed no response.
Just as his thumb hovered over the screen again, the neighbor auntie came out to throw away trash.
She paused when she saw him.
“Aren’t you Ethan’s son–in–law? You looking for Eleanor?”
Veyne nodded stiffly.
Her face turned strange. Disapproving.
“You didn’t… do something to hurt Eleanor, did you?”
Veyne froze.
Had he hurt Eleanor?
He hadn’t let the witness testify because Sylvia claimed the girl was a student of Eleanor’s father. Said she’d be biased.
And Sylvia’s brother had died–that part was undeniable.
As for Sylvia herself… sure, he treated her well. She’d helped him. He owed her.
But physically? He’d never crossed that line.
Just as he started to shake his head, the old woman hurled the garbage bag straight at his head.
“I knew it! You men are all the same! Ethan dies, you don’t show your face. Eleanor and her mother leave, still no sign of you. Hah! All
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that talk about loving her forever–bullshit!”
He stood there, stunned, trash clinging to his shoulders.
Ethan… died? Eleanor and her mom left?
He opened his mouth to ask more, but the woman slammed her metal gate shut with a bang.
All that remained… was a sidewalk full of garbage.
And a man standing alone in the mess he made.
Chapter 5
