Chapter 3
Melanie’s head hung low. Without looking up, she said, “Yasmin’s moving in, right? I thought I’d clear my stuff before she gets here. There’s no point in upsetting her.”
Zachary grabbed her wrist, and with one swift pull, drew her into his arms.
“You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Melanie, you’re really bad at lying.”
Zachary tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I’ve told you more than once. We’re just putting
on a show. If I’d actually wanted to marry her, I would’ve brought her back four years ago.”
Melanie looked him straight in the eye. Then, out of nowhere, she smiled. “Zachary, you know better than
anyone who you truly want to marry.”
Her voice was soft, yet every word was crystal clear.
Before she could say more, Zachary’s phone rang sharply, drowning out her voice.
He glanced at the screen, then hurriedly answered. After a few brief words into the phone, he muttered something to her about a work emergency and hurried out the door.
Melanie stared at his retreating figure. At that moment, she realized that it didn’t matter anymore whether
she confronted him or not.
Some relationships were like candy left out too long. They looked shiny on the outside, but inside, they had long gone stale. You could force yourself to hold on, but in the end, all you’d taste was
disappointment.
Not long after Zachary left, Melanie received a WhatsApp message from Yasmin.
It was a photo. In it, Zachary was down on one knee, holding Yasmin’s foot as he clasped an anklet with a
horseshoe charm around it.
Suddenly, Melanie was taken back to the time she had dragged him to a summer fair. She had spent ages
at a booth, sifting through handmade jewelry and chatting with the vendor about charms and what they
meant.
When she finally turned around, Zachary was a few steps away, checking his watch. The irritation on his
face was obvious.
“You actually believe in that kind of crap?” he had asked.
Melanie was lost in thought when another message from Yasmin popped up.
Yasmin: “I told Zachary I wasn’t feeling well, and he went straight to that shop that sells good luck
charms. He bought me this anklet.”
Yasmin: “Has he ever done anything like that for you?”
Yasmin: “Wake up, Melanie. He never loved you.”
Melanie’s grip tightened around her phone. The glow from the screen lit up her face, and whatever
warmth that was left in her eyes all but disappeared.
It was true. Zachary had never loved her. And from now on, she wasn’t going to waste another second
hoping he ever would.
For the next two days, Zachary didn’t come home. It wasn’t until the third day that Melanie saw him again
-at Yasmin’s farewell party.
He arrived in a tailored black suit, guiding Yasmin’s wheelchair through the crowd. She looked pale and
weak as she sat with a blanket over her legs.
The moment she tilted her head slightly, Zachary leaned down to ask if she was okay.
Right then, Melanie’s lips curled into a mocking smile. He had claimed it was all just an act, but the way he looked at Yasmin hadn’t changed in four years. It still held the same tenderness.
The ceremony began shortly after.
Charles stepped forward and announced Yasmin’s condition to the guests. Then, tears welled in his eyes
as he continued, “My daughter’s life has been both a tragedy and a blessing. Though her days are
numbered, she’s surrounded by a loving family and a man who’s always been there for her.”
Moments later, a video began to play. It was a slideshow of Yasmin’s life, from childhood to adulthood.
There she was as a toddler, surrounded by her parents at her first birthday party. At ten, Charles guided
her hands across piano keys. At 18, the whole family stood proudly beside her at her graduation
ceremony.
But in every picture, Melanie was just a blurry figure in the background. She had been nothing but a silent witness to an unfolding joy that never belonged to her.
Then, the images shifted. Now, it was Zachary by Yasmin’s side.
He stood there with flowers in hand when she won a competition. He proudly posed as her muse while
she painted. Finally, he held her close on their wedding day.
From school uniforms to tailored suits, the years passed in a blur. Yet, the tenderness in his eyes never
once wavered.
The crowd sat quietly, overcome with emotion.
Without warning, the screen
with red text.
It read, “Yasmin Lloyd, bitches like you belong in hell! You stole my husband. Just like your mother, you’re nothing but a man-stealing whore! I curse you to rot in hell. You’ll never know peace!”
For a few seconds, the room was deathly silent.
Then, chaos erupted.
