Chapter 2: It's That Woman!

Chloe's POV

The heavy bass was still thundering in my ears, but inside my head there was nothing but dead silence.

The man sitting there on that couch in front of me, tearing me down to his friends in that vicious, sneering tone — was he really Rhys, the boy I'd grown up with?

We were childhood sweethearts. From the clueless years of childhood to the reckless, bright days of our teens, I was there for every important moment of his life, and my whole youth was nothing but his shadow.

I still remember it perfectly — his very first game, the last second of the match, when he drove the ball through the defense, landed one beautiful shot, and won the championship for his team. The roar of the crowd was deafening. He ripped off his jersey and waved it over his head as he sprinted for the sidelines, and in that boiling sea of spectators he spotted me at once — me, cheering just as wildly as he was.

Rhys didn't hesitate. He vaulted the barrier and ran straight at me, and in front of all those cameras and all those people he pulled me into his arms and kissed me hard. It was a hot, deep kiss, carrying the burning heat of his body and the raw clumsiness of a boy, and it took every breath I had.

Amid a storm of shutter clicks and screams, he slowly let me go. His eyes were blazing with a fervent, reverent light. He went down on one knee and, gravely, confessed his love.

He said he would love me forever, that he would spend everything he had to respect everything I loved, that he would make me the happiest woman in the world.

But why...

Why had the boy who used to panic at the sight of a single tear from me turned into this?

Every important moment of his life, I had been there beside him. And now he came to private parties like this one and never once thought to tell me — not even an invitation.

Rhys brought another woman along as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if this weren't the first time. Maybe over the years he'd simply gotten used to bringing her to places like this, and I had been slowly shut out of his life.

The thought was so absurd it was almost funny. So two years really was enough to change a person completely. There was a time he couldn't wait to parade me in front of everyone, to make sure the whole world knew I was his wife. And now he could walk in with another woman on his arm in front of anybody.

Then what was I? And what was she?

Was Rhys... actually cheating on me?

The moment the thought surfaced, my heart felt like it was being crushed in a fist, and the pain nearly stopped my breath.

I didn't want to believe it. But nothing in front of me gave me a single reason to convince myself otherwise.

A tidal wave of humiliation and absurdity drowned me. My legs went soft and I couldn't hold myself up any longer. I leaned back against the cold wall and slid down into a crouch, buried my face between my knees, and began to sob — quietly, holding it in. The tears came like a broken dam, cutting down my cold cheeks and soaking my collar.

I was sinking into a bottomless pit of grief and despair when there was movement from the booth.

"You all keep drinking — I'm going to the bathroom."

It was Rhys's voice.

I snapped to attention, the crying stopping all at once.

No. He couldn't see me like this. He couldn't know I'd followed him all the way here.

I sniffed hard, forced myself up off the wall despite how numb my legs were, wiped my tears away in a rush, and, head down, tried to get out of the bar fast. But God seemed to be playing a joke on me.

"Chloe?"

Rhys's startled voice came from behind me. I stopped dead. The sound of his boots on the wooden floor closed in fast, and he crossed the distance in a few strides, his brows knit tight.

"What are you doing here?"

Even as he spoke he reached out to grab my arm — and then the dim light of the hallway caught my face, and he got a good look at the tears and the swollen eyes, and his hand froze mid-reach.

"Chloe... what's wrong?" The irritation in his eyes was gone in an instant, replaced by shock, and his voice dropped without him noticing. "Why are you crying?"

I didn't answer. I just bit down hard on my lower lip and turned my face away from him.

The air in the hallway went still for a few seconds. Rhys looked at my red-rimmed eyes and my shaking shoulders, and something seemed to click for him all at once. His face changed completely. The arrogance and the disdain from a moment ago were gone, replaced by panic and helplessness.

"Did you... did you hear all of that?" He was stammering.

I stayed silent under his question. I didn't know how to answer him, and I certainly didn't know what expression to wear for the husband who had just stabbed me in the back.

When I said nothing, Rhys lost his composure entirely. He gripped my shoulders hard with both hands and rushed to explain. "Chloe! Let me explain! I didn't leave you out on purpose. These past two years you've been so busy with your streaming career — that's why I thought you should just focus on your own thing."

I was taken aback for a moment, and finally I looked up at him. Rhys hurried on:

"This party tonight was a team thing to begin with. I figured you've been streaming every single day lately and you must be busy too, so I didn't tell you. And as for when they asked about you just now..." He paused; something flustered flickered through his eyes. "I just didn't think they needed to know that much about you. I don't want them treating you like some appendage of mine, and I really don't want them gossiping about your career because of me."

I stared at him, dazed.

"So it's not that you didn't want me here?"

"Of course it isn't." There was hardly a beat of hesitation. "I just want you to build something of your own."

Looking into Rhys's eyes, I suddenly remembered two years ago, when I had just lost my job and was completely adrift. After thinking about it for a long time, I told him I wanted to try streaming. Everyone thought I'd lost my mind; even my family laughed and said I was dreaming. Only Rhys stood behind me the whole way.

"Then go do it."

That's exactly what he told me back then. Later, when I really did start streaming, I didn't even have the most basic equipment. Rhys picked out a whole setup for me himself — camera, microphone, lights, computer — and he even tuned every piece of it for me, one by one. And back then he said something.

"Chloe, you're going to build something of your own."

I never forgot it. But hearing what I heard just now had made me forget all of it. I'd been too busy hurting, too busy wondering whether he no longer wanted me anywhere in his life — and I forgot that he had once been the person who supported me most.

At that thought, my nose suddenly stung.

"Rhys..." My voice was very soft. He looked at me at once.

"Yeah?"

I was quiet for a few seconds, and then I reached out and gently hugged him.

"I'm sorry. I misjudged you."

The next second his arms locked tight around me and he pulled me hard against his chest.

"You didn't do anything wrong."

His voice was low, and it carried the unmistakable sound of a man who had just been badly frightened.

"I'm the one who didn't explain things properly."

I leaned against him and closed my eyes. It was a long while before Rhys slowly let me go. He held me by the shoulders, and — whether to make up for what he'd done or to prove something to me — he spoke up on his own and took my hand.

"Come on, Chloe. Come hang out with me. Tonight I'm going to make every one of them see just how incredible my wife is."

I didn't even get the chance to say yes or no before Rhys's fingers had laced through mine, easy as anything, and he was leading me straight down the hall toward the noisy booth at the end of it.

"All right, shut your mouths, all of you!" Rhys walked into the middle of the booth with his head high, my hand still in his. "Let me introduce you properly — this is my wife, Chloe."

The noisy booth went quiet for a few seconds. His teammates all looked startled, and then a round of hooting broke out.

I stood beside Rhys wearing a composed smile and followed everyone's gaze toward the back of the booth.

And the moment my eyes reached the far corner, the smile on my face froze solid. A woman in a scorching red dress was sitting there, leaning back against the cushions, swirling a wine glass in her hand, staring straight at me with a look that was pure amusement and challenge.

I would never mistake that face as long as I lived.

It was the woman from the photo the anonymous sender had sent me half an hour ago — the one kissing my husband Rhys, passionately, in plain view of everyone.