The Love That Was All a Lie

Today is my twenty-seventh birthday. The ballroom is adorned with dazzling crystal chandeliers, filled with elegantly dressed guests and clinking glasses. I'm wearing a custom-made champagne-colored gown, linking arms with Raymond Jones, accepting blessings from the guests. Raymond is my husband and the chairman of Jones Group. He wears a proper smile, but there's no warmth in his eyes. I should have gotten used to it long ago, yet an imperceptible sense of desolation sweeps through my heart. The incident happens ten minutes before cutting the cake. Suddenly, the ballroom's large screen switches—our wedding photos, which had been playing in a loop, are instantly replaced by another image. In the photo, Raymond is embracing a strange woman, kissing her passionately in a hotel corridor. The woman's face is clearly visible, her makeup exquisite, and her eyes filled with provocation. The entire venue falls instantly silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. All eyes converge on Raymond and me—some filled with sympathy, curiosity, and even schadenfreude. I feel the color drain from my face, my fingertips turning cold. I turn my head to look at Raymond beside me. His brows furrow, not out of guilt, but out of annoyance at being interrupted. "Raymond, what is this?" I hear my own voice, calm beyond recognition. He raises his hand and waves casually, signaling his assistant to handle the screen. "It's no big deal, just a joke between friends," he says lightly, even with a hint of contempt. "A joke?" I repeat the word, my heart feeling as if it's being squeezed by a cold hand. "What else would it be?" He looks down at me, his impatience undisguised. "Sarah Lincoln, don't be ungrateful. Do you want to embarrass me in front of all these people?" The guests begin to murmur, those faint voices piercing my ears like needles. I part my lips, wanting to say something, but ultimately, it all turns to silence. I pull at the corner of my mouth, forcing a smile uglier than crying. Raymond thinks I'll endure it like I always do, so he pats my shoulder in satisfaction and turns to attend to the guests. Only I know that at that moment, something in my heart shatters completely. And something else quietly takes root amidst the ruins. The birthday banquet ends on a sour note. Back at the empty villa, Raymond goes straight upstairs to take a shower, as if nothing had happened that night. I sit on the living room sofa, staring at the night view outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, wide awake all night. In truth, Raymond's and my marriage has long been a hollow shell. This isn't his first infidelity. The first time I found out was in our second year of marriage.