Chapter 6

With four days left until the birthday party, I returned home and began packing up everything that belonged to me, piece by piece, into a single suitcase.

The couple’s clothes, toothbrushes, mugs—they were all carefully packed, then without hesitation, tossed into the trash.

Each item carried a memory of tenderness now past, and I was the one to end it all.

Once I finished, I sent the suitcase to the address my mom had given me.

That night, Ross stumbled through the door, reeking of alcohol and a faint, lingering trace of another woman’s scent.

His steps wobbled, but the moment he saw me, he smiled and threw himself into my arms.

“Babe…” His voice was hoarse, softened by drunken warmth. “Are you mad at me again? Don’t be like this. I missed you.”

I recoiled from him, dizzy from the smell of alcohol.

He froze, vulnerability flashing briefly across his face. His voice turned husky. “You… don’t love me anymore, do you? Why are you pushing me away?”

I looked at his blurred face, feeling my heart sink bit by bit.

“Ross,” I said softly, “you’re the one who stopped loving me first.”

But he didn’t hear me.

He slumped onto the couch and quickly fell into a heavy sleep.

The next morning, he rubbed his forehead, sitting up with a dazed look as if he’d forgotten everything about the night before, staring at his wrinkled shirt and smelling of alcohol.

Before, after a night of entertaining clients, he would come home to me fixing his clothes and preparing a hangover soup for him.

Today, there was nothing.

He washed up and came to the table while I quietly ate breakfast.

Using his usual habitual tenderness, he wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Babe, what about my breakfast?”

I tilted my head slightly, avoiding his embrace.

“Forgot to make it.”

His smile stiffened, a flicker of unease in his eyes.

“Yesterday… what happened at the office—I didn’t mean it,” he said, his voice lowered, cautious and coaxing. “I couldn’t offend Zamora, that’s why I said those things. Babe, don’t overthink it. Don’t get jealous, okay?”

I looked up at him and simply replied, “Okay.”

He froze.

Clearly, he did not expect my calm.

I used to cry when I was sad and make a fuss when I was jealous.

But now, even showing one more expression felt like a waste.

He was silent for a moment, then suddenly hugged me tightly, his voice low and weary. “Babe, tonight… let’s go to the hot spring resort, okay? It’s my fault. I’ve been too busy lately. Tonight, I’ll make it up to you.”

He always knew the right way to soften me.

But now, it only felt ironic.

If he truly cared, how could he not notice that this home had already become empty?

He kissed my forehead and left with his usual smile.

I didn’t stop him; I had intended to go to the resort to remove that lock.

We had hung it there eight years ago.

If I didn’t take it down, it would just feel unlucky.

By evening, I was ready to leave.

But Ross still hadn’t come back.

He sent a message.

[Sudden business trip. Next time, okay, babe? Be good. We’ll go when I come back.]

I stared at the message with no reaction and opened Instagram.

Ross didn’t even know I had an account.

He always thought I was old-fashioned and wouldn’t be online.

That’s why he acted so brazenly, thinking I could never uncover the truth.

I refreshed Zamora’s feed.

My pupils constricted when I saw the latest post—a photo of a prenatal checkup dated today.

The caption read: [Baby, Mommy and Daddy are so excited to meet you!]

Ross’s comment was first.

[Daddy will love Mommy well.]

I blinked rapidly, trying to suppress the breakdown.

My baby had quietly passed away, unnoticed, while Zamora and Ross’s child was being celebrated in public.

The “business trip” Ross had told me about—it was to be with Zamora and their child.

I thought I couldn’t feel sad anymore.

But when I turned off my phone, I couldn’t help but cry out loud.

I had always dreamed of having a family and a child of my own.

But the family I longed for never came, and my child was taken from me because of Zamora.

I wiped away my tears hard.

It didn’t matter.

Now, I had real family.

The next day, I drove alone to the hot spring resort.

“Sorry, Ma’am. The place has been reserved for a private event tonight,” the staff said reluctantly.

I frowned. “Reserved by whom?”

“Miss Zamora and Sir Ross, Ma’am.”

I froze where I stood.

Moments later, laughter came from not far away, cutting through the air.

“Oh, Ross, this place is so beautiful!” Zamora exclaimed, her voice bright and light.

Ross’s voice followed.

“This is where we used to come, remember? We promised to be together forever.”

His tone was so gentle it was almost unbelievable.

So this was his version of being “busy”—reliving old memories.

I kept a cold face as I handed over my family’s black card. The staff called and promptly moved aside, greeting me respectfully.

Soft lights glowed over the resort; mist rose from the hot springs.

I saw Ross holding Zamora’s hand as they walked to the hilltop.

They stopped in front of a weathered blue heart-shaped lock.

Zamora touched it and smiled. “Ross, you remember this, right? We locked it here back then.”

“Of course, I remember,” he replied, gentle and patient. “I come here every year to tighten it. Zamora, I’ve been waiting for you to come back.”

He lowered his head and kissed her softly.

Zamora playfully pushed him away. “But didn’t you bring other women here every year?”

He chuckled, eyes full of affection.

“Don’t mind them. They’re just stand-ins. I just missed you so much that I needed a shadow.”

My feet froze. My whole body stiffened.

Eight years ago, Ross had brought me here to confess.

I had looked at that same blue lock with envy. “They must be happy. Maybe they even grow old together,” I said.

He wiped the sweat from my forehead and locked our silver lock beneath the blue one.

“Don’t be jealous of them. We’ll grow old together, too.”

Apparently, that blue lock… was never a stranger’s.

It was his past with Zamora.

All these years, we had come back here countless times and walked past both locks countless times.

I never once thought that the lock I’d envied for years held their memories.

Ross… during all those times you were with me, who were you thinking of?

When you pretended to be clueless, were you mocking my naivety?

Did you think an orphan wouldn’t have the courage to leave you, even knowing the truth?

Only now did I truly understand what the eighteenth hospital call had meant when they said “stand-in.”

I didn’t step forward.

I just turned around and walked away.

My chest felt hollow, as if something had been carved out of it. Even anger felt too expensive to afford.

The love lock didn’t need to be taken down anymore.

Under that blue heart lock, our silver lock no longer had a place.

I immediately booked a flight home and got on the plane that very night.

Three days later—at my birthday party, Ross and Zamora would receive a “gift” they’d never forget.