2.Chapter 2 He’s Cheating

This time, Bella’s message was just a photo. It showed Zachary spooning her from behind, his arms locked tight around her, sleeping deeply.

Bella’s cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen. Her nightgown collar gaped open, revealing hickeys trailing down her neck. No words were needed to explain what went down last night.

Gwyneth and Zachary had been together five years without crossing that final line.

In the early days, when desire got the best of them, Zachary would grit his teeth and crush her in a hug, mumbling, “Gwennie, just grow up already.”

Later he stopped holding her like that, promising they’d wait for their wedding night. She’d thought that was love—cherishing, patient love. But wasn’t desire supposed to be part of that?

Gwyneth stared at the photo, tears spilling over. It was like someone had ripped her heart out, leaving a hole that’d never mend.

After breakfast, she headed to the next-door villa. She walked the custom-built sky bridge, gazing down at the lush gardens below. Despite the vibrant blooms, all she saw was emptiness.

Gwyneth and Zachary had bought these two villas after closing a huge deal. Both were titled in her name—he had said everything he had was hers. He’d even hired designers to create a connecting garden and a sky bridge between the two places.

He’d joked that if she ever got mad and wanted to go “home,” she could just move next door. He needed to see her “with a quick glance” to feel safe. Now, despite her being right in front of him, he barely looked her way.

Gwyneth typed in the code and pushed open the door. The mansion wasn’t flashy—more like a museum. Every case held her mom’s life work: rare ceramic pieces that were nothing short of artistic treasures.

Back then, Gwyneth placed each one here carefully, trusting Zachary with her future. Now she was packing them up while taking her future back.

Her fingers ran over the custom glass cabinets until they stopped at the biggest display. Inside were misshapen ceramics—crooked, lumpy, far from perfect.

Every year on Peyton’s death day, Zachary would take Gwyneth to pottery class.

“Gwennie, don’t be sad. Let’s make your mom’s favorite thing. She’ll know you miss her, and see you’re doing better every day,” he had said.

Gwyneth never got her mom’s talent. At first, she couldn’t even shape a simple bowl. Back then, Zachary wasn’t the hotshot CEO—he couldn’t splurge. He’d bend over backwards with the studio owner, just so she could zone out shaping clay to cope.

Time slipped away. Her skills sharpened, but Zachary’s visits grew fewer and farther between. He was always busy—or maybe just losing interest.

Gwyneth opened the cabinet and pulled out the most ornate painted ceramic jar. Their names were scrawled in cursive, a heart sandwiched between them—a testament to a love that once felt eternal, now seeming almost embarrassingly innocent.

Zachary had guided her hand as she painted those letters, kissing her earlobe with a rough chuckle. “Now we’re official in your mom’s book. No take-backs.”

A sardonic laugh escaped Gwyneth’s lips. All the beautiful moments she’d treasured had become nothing more than a cruel joke now.

Her grip loosened. The jar dropped, exploding against the floor in a sharp, final burst—like those rainbow-colored memories in her mind, one touch, and they burst, scattering into nothing.

*****

By the time Gwyneth finished packing and loaded the moving truck, it was after four. She called a realtor, signed papers, set a price, and told them to list the two villas next Monday. Then she took a cab to the farmhouse outside town.

“Are you really heading back to Joracity?” Pamela, her aunt, looked genuinely sad. “You and Zachary seemed like you were inseparable. I thought you two were the real deal.”

Gwyneth didn’t answer, just lay still in the rocking chair with her eyes closed. She could almost hear Zachary’s bike bell, then his teenage voice yelling, “Gwennie, we’re gonna miss first period. Brought you bread and milk—move it!”

She forcibly yanked the memories from her mind, opening her eyes to the middle-aged woman carefully slicing fruit. “Pamela,” she asked quietly, “do you ever regret leaving the Jenkins family for that man?”

Pamela’s hands stilled, then kept moving. “I got Lucas.”

‘So is that a yes or no?’ Gwyneth kept her eyes on her aunt, but Pamela stayed quiet.

Years back, when Quentin tried forcing Pamela into an arranged marriage, she ran away with her lover and cut ties with the Jenkins family.

But when she was about to give birth, that man vanished without a trace. Now her son Lucas was in college, and she was still waiting for the man she’d given up everything for.

‘Love? What a joke,’ Gwyneth sneered silently.

Pamela wiped her hands and grabbed Gwyneth’s wrist. “If it’s Quentin who pushes you into this, you don’t have to…”

“It’s not that,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Zachary’s seeing someone else.” The words hung in the courtyard like dead weight.

Pamela went silent.

Gwyneth sank back in the chair. “I won’t let them take Mom’s photo out of the memorial hall.”

She knew Quentin was a jerk, but she never thought he’d sink this low. He agreed to Diana’s idea to wipe Peyton from the memorial hall—he had zero shame.

*****

As Gwyneth was leaving, Pamela handed over a yellow envelope. “The thing you asked the astrologer to check,” she said.

Gwyneth waited till the car pulled away to open it. Inside was a slip of paper with a date scribbled on it.

The second year they were together, Zachary and Gwyneth decided to get married right after her 23rd birthday. Since Pamela was her only family in Galvocity, she had asked Pamela to have an astrologer pick a proper date.

To her surprise, the date they’d chosen fell on next Monday—the exact day she was set to leave Galvocity for good—how ironic.

As Gwyneth entered the villa, violin music drifted through the living room. Bella stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, her slender form backlit by the warm, golden light as she played the violin. Zachary lounged on the sofa, legs crossed, watching her intently.

‘What a lovey-dovey moment,’ Gwyneth thought sarcastically, then strode right through the room.

Upon spotting Gwyneth, Bella stopped playing and stepped over with a smile. “Gwyneth, Vincent wrote this piece just for me. Zachary entered me in an international competition. I’m nervous. Will you listen and give me your thoughts?”

Gwyneth said nothing, just staring at Bella’s expression.

She’d fallen for Bella’s helpless act before: lending her dresses, sharing violin tips, even playing dumb to boost her confidence. She never realized Bella’s true aim wasn’t just winning trophies—she wanted Zachary too.

In the heavy quiet, Bella suddenly ducked her head. “Gwyneth, are you upset that I’m moving in?”

Instantly, Gwyneth’s face hardened. She snapped her head up, locking eyes with Zachary. “She’s moving in?”