Mistakenly Devoted to Fleeting Years, Memories Hard to Let Go

I stumbled upon old chat messages on our wedding anniversary between my husband and his childhood sweetheart.

The words on the screen hit me like a blow to the chest.

[I’ve never seen someone so easy to fool.]

[All I did was give her a hand when being bullied and she clung to me like a puppy.]

[She’s an orphan, you know, desperate for love.]

[How could I ever fall in love with her? It’s just a game. Once I’m bored, I’ll end it.]

I once believed he was the light pulling me from the depths of the abyss, but in the end, he was the one who shoved me headfirst into hell.

He had no idea that while he generously lavished resources on his childhood sweetheart, propelling her toward success, I used every last bit of my savings to secure a burial plot for myself.

After I was gone, he completely lost his grip on reality.

“Miss Taylor, the burial plot you reserved earlier—the contract is ready. Whose name would you like to put as the primary holder?”

Millie Taylor paused, her voice steady as she responded, “Mine.”

The voice on the other end hesitated, clearly taken aback, but quickly regained composure. “Alright, Miss Taylor. When would you like to come in and complete the formalities?”

“Two weeks,” she replied calmly. “I need time to settle everything here first.”

After hanging up, Millie took a deep breath, her fingers swiping through her phone to book a flight to New Zealand two weeks later.

The television hummed in the background, still broadcasting Elliot Hemsworth’s interview. As the show neared its end, the host brought up the burning question everyone had been dying to ask.

“Recently, Mr. Hemsworth’s grand gesture of filling the city sky with fireworks for Mrs. Hemsworth went viral online. Viewers are captivated by the love story between you and Mrs. Hemsworth. You’ve been together since school days, enduring a long romance that led to marriage. Could you share your story with us today?”

Elliot smiled faintly, his almondshaped eyes glowing with an emotion so deep it almost seemed to reach out of the screen. His gaze locked with the camera, intense and profound, as if he were speaking directly to Millie on the other side.

“We’ve been together for ten years, weathering every storm. She’s the one who has stood by me through it all. I love her with all my heart.”

Cheers erupted from the audience as soon as the words left his mouth.

Millie averted her eyes, her lips curling into a bitter, knowing smirk.

The fireworks across the city, the handinhand walks.

It was all a lie.

A lie to keep another woman happy.

Three months ago, Millie had already uncovered Elliot’s secret affair. The woman in question was none other than Hilary Pascal, the rising star of the film industry, the new queen of cinema. Hilary was also the same Haley who had once made Millie’s life a living hell.

Millie would never forget Haley’s face.

The memories came flooding back, unstoppable. How Haley had led the others to isolate her, how she had falsely accused her of theft and tormented her with cruelty.

They had thrown basketballs at her head, smeared glue on her chair, stuffed dead rats into her desk and tossed her backpack into the trash.

The stench of that unknown liquid pouring over her head, the biting cold of winter nights, came rushing back like a relentless nightmare.

Millie suddenly clutched her abdomen, taking a deep breath to steady herself, trying to suppress the surge of nausea that twisted inside her.

But her body betrayed her, trembling uncontrollably.

Before she could gather herself, she felt a warm, familiar embrace from behind, a breath too hot against her ear.

“What’s wrong, Millie? Are you feeling unwell?”

The sickly sweet scent of perfume overwhelmed her senses. Millie subtly slipped from Elliot’s hold, shaking her head as she distanced herself.

Elliot leaned forward, his lips curving into a smile. “Are you upset?”

She turned her head away, offering nothing in return.

Elliot seemed unfazed. He reached into a gift box, pulling out a delicate, expensive necklace, his attempt at appeasement. “I didn’t forget. It was just a late business dinner. Don’t be mad, alright?”

He placed the necklace in her hands, his voice soft but carrying an unmistakable edge of insincerity.

“Happy birthday, my dear wife.”

Millie glanced at the brand on the gift—Hilary endorsed it.

She accepted it with a polite thanks, then casually tossed the box onto the table, her feet already carrying her toward the bathroom.

In a swift motion, Elliot wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against him. “Let’s shower together, darling.”

He lifted her effortlessly, heading straight toward the bathroom.

“Elliot, put me down!”

She struggled, but his hold only tightened, his strength unyielding.

The emotions she had buried deep inside suddenly erupted like a storm breaking free from its prison. She flailed violently, and in her panic, her hand struck his face with a sharp slap.

Elliot froze for a moment, shock flashing across his features.

Millie’s shock mirrored his. She lowered her gaze in silence, but the sight before her sent a jolt of pain through her chest.

Elliot’s shirt hung loosely, two buttons undone from their earlier struggle, revealing dark kiss marks on his collarbone. The bruising hickeys on his chest were unmistakable, glowing bluishpurple under the light.

Had he been at a business dinner or just come from Hilary’s bed?

The thought lingered in the air, but Millie shoved it away, unwilling to confront it.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “I’m not feeling well today.”

Elliot, assuming she was merely sulking, let it go. He gently took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to it.

“Did that hurt your hand?” he asked, his voice laced with feigned tenderness.

He placed her hand on his cheek, his chuckle a hollow sound in the quiet room. “Should I let you slap the other side, too, to cheer you up?”

“I’m tired,” she replied, her voice a mere murmur.

She slowly withdrew her hand, turning toward the bed, her mind numbing with exhaustion.

Elliot followed her, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head with practiced affection.

“Good night, darling.”

Millie tried to pull away as his breathing evened out, but Elliot’s hold tightened, anchoring her in place.

There had been a time when she loved this closeness and his embrace made her feel safe and protected. Now, it felt like a cage.

Millie had always battled severe insomnia—nights without sleep were more familiar to her than restful ones. But when she had once found solace in Elliot's arms, sleep had come like a warm embrace.

Now, his presence only made her feel sick to her stomach.

The next morning, she was awakened by a voice calling her name.

Her eyes fluttered open and she found Elliot leaning over her, his hand gently brushing the corner of her eye.

“What were you dreaming about? You were crying in your sleep.”

Millie felt disoriented as if she had just awakened from a dream that spanned an entire lifetime.

She had dreamt of being ten, of her father drowning in the river after drinking himself into a stupor and of her mother abandoning her. Millie had chased after her mother’s retreating figure, but it remained out of reach no matter how fast she ran.

She had relived the cruel school years when they taunted her—an orphan with no family, the laughter ringing in her ears as they tossed her schoolbag into the trash.

Then, Elliot had appeared, like a beacon of light pulling her from the mud... only to discard her like trash when he grew bored.

[I’ve never seen someone so easy to fool.]

[All I did was help her when bullied and she clung to me like a dog.]

[She’s an orphan, desperate for love.

[How could I ever love her? It’s just a game. When I’m bored, I’ll end it.]

The anonymous email chat logs played on a loop in her mind, each word like a knife to her heart.

She could clearly picture Elliot’s cold face as he’d said those words. The man in front of her now was a stark contrast, gazing at her with concern.

“Don’t cry, darling,” he murmured. “To make up for missing your birthday yesterday, how about I take you to the amusement park today? Isn’t that something you’ve always wanted to do?”

He kissed the corners of her tearstreaked eyes, his lips lingering as though he could wipe away her pain.

Millie’s lashes trembled and tears slid down her cheeks, vanishing into the pillow beneath her.

So, Elliot remembered after all.

Millie had never been to an amusement park. As a child, she had longed for the bright lights and the laughter, but her family had barely scraped by, never able to afford even the smallest luxuries.

After being with Elliot, Millie’s dream had always been to visit an amusement park with him. But Elliot would brush off the idea whenever she brought it up, claiming it was childish and beneath him. He never once joined her.

It wasn’t until a few days ago, when she and Tiffany Molina took her son to the park, that she accidentally bumped into Elliot with Hilary. That’s when she realized how considerate Elliot could be.

For every toy Hilary showed the slightest interest in, Elliot immediately bought it for her. If Hilary so much as pouted, he’d be there with a bottle of water, ready to hand it to her.

Pirate ships, haunted houses, bumper cars—none mattered to him how juvenile the rides were. If Hilary wanted it, Elliot was right there, playing along with an eagerness Millie had never seen.

Their striking appearances caught the attention of passersby and soon enough, someone recognized Hilary and a crowd gathered, asking for autographs and photos.

While Hilary lowered her head to sign, Elliot stood quietly beside her, wrapping his arm protectively around her, shielding her from the swarm of people. His gaze never left her, his smile one of pure indulgence and pride.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Millie was about to turn down Elliot’s invitation to the park. But when she saw his message, something inside her shifted and she agreed.

They rode every ride in the park, but the joy she had once imagined was nowhere to be found.

It dawned on her—perhaps this was what expired happiness felt like.

During their breaks, Elliot kept glancing at his phone, his attention clearly elsewhere.

After finishing her ice cream cone, Millie stood up. “Let’s go back.”

She couldn’t help but wonder, was he eager to go back and see his little childhood sweetheart?

If she remembered correctly, today was Hilary’s birthday.

Their birthdays were only a day apart, but their lives had been worlds apart.

Hilary was always cherished, adored and surrounded by love. Everyone flocked to her, treating her like royalty. Even her own mother had chosen to love Hilary over her.

Back then, Millie had never imagined that she would see her mother again.

It was just an ordinary weekend afternoon. The school had set aside a few hours for parents to visit and many students eagerly awaited the sight of their mothers bringing homecooked meals to brighten their days.

The dormitory was always filled with the mouthwatering aroma of various dishes. A roommate’s mother would often invite Millie to join them. Still, she always turned down the offer, pretending she had already eaten and retreating to the silence of her room.

That day, she heard a commotion echoing down the hallway. Curiosity piqued, she peered over, only to see Haley pushing a welldressed woman out of the dorm room. The woman’s lunchbox, beautifully packed, fell to the ground with a loud crash, soup splashing across the floor.

"I’ve never seen anyone so shameless!" Haley snapped, her voice dripping with venom. "Throwing yourself at someone else’s child! If you can’t have your own, go find a stray dog on the street…"

Her cruel words cut through the air, catching the attention of other parents nearby, who hurried to intervene. But Haley didn’t stop—she pointed at the woman, her accusations growing sharper with every word.

But the woman simply smiled, an apologetic curve of her lips. She crouched down, silently wiping up the mess.

At that moment, Millie rushed forward, her heart pounding in her chest as though a force beyond her control had taken over. Grabbing the woman’s arm, she trembled, her voice a whisper barely above the noise of her racing thoughts.

"Mom..."

Haley’s eyes widened in disbelief. "She’s your mom?"

The woman, who had remained so calm, now looked at Millie with wide, shocked eyes. Her gaze softened as tears gathered in her almondshaped eyes. She gently pushed Millie’s hand away, her smile laced with bitterness.

"Child, you’ve got the wrong person."

From that moment onward, rumors and bullying began to take root, spreading like venomous snakes, tightening their grip around Millie. The more she fought back, the fiercer the punishment grew.

And then, Elliot appeared.

He stepped in, a shield against the harshness and cruelty, protecting her from the relentless torment that had threatened to swallow her whole. He was her guardian for three years, allowing her to breathe in the suffocating chaos of high school.

To Millie, Elliot was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, a beacon of warmth in a world that had always seemed so dark and cold.

She pursued him with the same fervor as a moth to a flame—changing her career dreams and following him to the same university, all for the chance to become someone worthy in his eyes.

Millie had once thought that Elliot had pulled her from the mud, that he was the one to lift her out of the dirt. But in the end, he had simply used her as a pawn.

She believed she had married for love, only to realize, too late, that her heart had been wasted on someone undeserving.

But it no longer mattered.

This time, it was Millie who didn’t want Elliot.

This time, she would be the one to walk away first.

After dropping Millie off at home, Elliot rushed off to Hilary’s birthday party.

It was supposed to be an intimate gathering—one where Millie never belonged. Yet, despite her better judgment, she couldn’t resist the birthday girl’s eager invitation.

The taxi came to a halt halfway up the mountain and as Millie entered the villa, fireworks lit up the sky.

A series of sharp pops echoed in the air, followed by a cascade of colorful sparks and streamers raining down from above. Laughter and cheers spilled out from the villa’s open doors.

In the center of the crowd stood Hilary, a birthday hat perched jauntily on her head. She closed her eyes, making a wish with a smile that could outshine the fireworks.

Someone, emboldened by mischief, grabbed a handful of cake, aiming to smear it on Hilary’s face. But before they could act, Elliot stepped in.

He wrapped Hilary in his arms, gently pulling the streamers from her hair. His protective gaze swept over the crowd to shoo away his rowdy friends.

“Watch it. My girl likes to look nice. Don’t ruin it,” he said, his tone firm but playful.

The words were barely out of his mouth when a wave of teasing rippled through the crowd.

Though Millie had braced herself for such a scene, witnessing it firsthand was like a slap to her face.

A sharp, painful knot twisted in her stomach and she fought to keep the rising nausea at bay. Her temples pulsed with every beat of her heart.

She caught someone beside Elliot nudging his arm and pointing in her direction.

When Elliot saw her, the smile on his lips faltered, freezing into a stiff line. His gaze turned icy as he scanned the room, silencing anyone bold enough to meet his eyes.

Hilary, however, remained unshaken. She approached with a bright, unfazed smile.

"Millie is a friend I invited," she said casually. "We were classmates once, always joking around. When I learned that Elliot’s wife was you—"

"Haley!"

Hilary had used her stage name, but Elliot always called her "Hale" in private. He never used her full name.

Hilary knew she had crossed a line, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she clung to Elliot’s arm and pouted playfully.

"Elliot, don’t be upset."

"I invited Millie because we had some misunderstandings in the past. Now that she’s your wife, that makes her my sisterinlaw. I just wanted to apologize first."

Her words were carefully crafted, softening Elliot’s expression almost immediately.

"I was immature before," Hilary continued, her voice sugary sweet. "Let me toast to you. From now on, we’re all friends."

She raised her glass, but Elliot swiftly took it from her, replacing it with juice.

"Who taught you this? You can’t hold your liquor—behave," he chided, his tone gentle but firm.

Hilary dropped her gaze with a soft chuckle, handing a new glass to Millie.

"My tolerance really is bad," she confessed, a teasing glint in her eye. "Even though I’ve been in the industry for a while, Elliot has always protected me, so I never picked up the drinking habit. I hope you don’t mind, Millie. Elliot cares so much about me, so I’ll toast you with juice instead."

Her words seemed sincere, but Millie could see the smugness flickering in her eyes—remnants of the same arrogance Hilary had shown when she’d dragged Millie into the restroom and slammed her head against the wall.

And just like before, Hilary ended it with a light, insincere apology, as though it could wipe away all the harm she’d done.

Millie hesitated, her fingers brushing the glass, but she was unable to bring herself to take it. Just then, someone nearby spoke up in defense of Hilary.

"Enough already. Stop acting so high and mighty."

"Come on, Millie," another voice chimed in. "Hale’s already taken a step back. What happened is in the past. There’s no need to keep holding a grudge over some childish squabbles."

Elliot swiftly took the glass from Hilary’s hand and handed it to Millie, his face setting into an unreadable mask.

"I hope you two can get along."

Millie stared at him and then suddenly, a soft laugh escaped her lips.

"Childish squabbles…"

He had never known the icy sting of cold water over his head in the dead of winter, the searing burn of a cigarette pressed to his skin, or the desperation of swallowing sleeping pills just to escape the night.

What gave him the right to forgive on her behalf?

Elliot frowned, opening his mouth to speak, but Millie suddenly snatched the glass from his hand and downed it swiftly.

The wine spilled, dribbling down her delicate neck and she coughed violently, her eyes glossing over with unshed tears.

For reasons he couldn’t explain, Elliot’s chest tightened painfully, a flicker of guilt gnawing at him.

Before he could react, Millie collapsed into his arms, her breathing shallow and skin flushed.

Someone nearby whispered, "Is she allergic to alcohol?"

The words snapped him back to reality. "Damn it," he muttered, grabbing her and rushing toward the garage.

What the hell was wrong with him? How could he have forgotten?

When Millie finally stirred again, an IV line was running into her arm.

Elliot sat at her side, watching her intently, his redrimmed eyes betraying the emotions he tried to suppress.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"There was no need," she replied, turning her face away.

Elliot grabbed her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his.

"You’re pregnant. I’m the father. And you think it’s unnecessary to tell me?"

Millie stayed silent, her expression unreadable, but Elliot suddenly buried his face in the crook of her neck. She couldn’t tell if he was laughing or crying.

"I’m going to be a father," he murmured repeatedly, his voice trembling with an emotion she couldn’t quite place. Warm tears fell against her shoulder, leaving her frozen in place.

Were they tears of joy—or something else entirely?

After three long years of marriage, she had never conceived. The doctors had told her she suffered from polycystic ovary syndrome, making it nearly impossible to get pregnant.

She had made peace with the idea of never having children, yet now, against all odds, a tiny spark of life had taken root.

Her hand instinctively rested on her flat belly, emotions churning like a storm within her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Hilary glaring at her through the small window of the hospital door, her expression dark and piercing.

Millie reclined against the pillows, her face a picture of calm, but her lips curled into a faint, mocking smile.

For the next few days, Elliot barely left her side, eagerly trying to win her over with his cooking.

His culinary skills were remarkable, surpassing even the finest restaurants she’d known.

But she could count the times she’d tasted his cooking on one hand.

Once, during her senior year of college, she had been drowning in the demands of her thesis, internships and tutoring jobs, often skipping meals entirely. One night, she woke doubled over in pain from a stomachache. That was the first time Elliot cooked for her—a simple plate of fried rice.

It had been the most satisfying meal of her life.

She had always wondered how someone raised in luxury, surrounded by chefs and maids, had learned to cook so well. Later, she found out.

Hilary was a notoriously picky eater. During her years abroad, Elliot took six months of cooking lessons just so he could fly out and prepare her favorite hometown dishes every month.

Since then, whenever Millie was too swamped to cook, she’d jokingly ask Elliot to cook for her again. But he always refused. If her persistence annoyed him, he would order takeout instead.

The reason?

Hilary’s jealousy. She had forbidden him from cooking for anyone else. Like so much else, his skills in the kitchen had been reserved exclusively for her.

Millie glanced at the table brimming with dishes made to suit her tastes, but the sight only deepened her unease. Taking a few bites out of obligation, she excused herself and walked to the bathroom.

Once inside, her stomach rebelled. She gripped the edge of the sink; her body wracked with spasms until the contents of her meal were forced up. A sharp pain clawed at her abdomen and an acrid metallic taste filled her mouth.

She leaned over the sink as crimson blood spilled past her lips, vivid against the white porcelain. Her hands trembled as she turned on the faucet, watching the water sweep away every trace of her struggle, leaving the sink pristine once more.

Outside, Elliot banged on the door with urgency. The sound echoed like a heartbeat, each knock filled with tension.

The door opened abruptly and before Millie could react, Elliot pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, his embrace both firm and desperate.

"Is that little brat giving you trouble again?"

"How do you know it’s a boy?"

"They say the more you want something, the less likely you will get it. You have to say the opposite.

“A boy is fine, too. Later, we can have a girl and the two of us can protect the two of you."

Hearing this, Millie’s lips curved faintly as she replied, each word deliberate, "Have you ever heard the saying, 'If you want it all, you’ll end up with nothing'?"

Elliot’s smile faltered for a fleeting moment, a strange unease tightening his chest. But he quickly regained his composure and wrapped her in a firm embrace. In a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, "Then all I want is you."

Millie averted her gaze, her lips twisting into a faint, mocking smile.

The silence shattered with the sharp ring of a phone. Elliot’s eyes flickered to the screen and they stepped aside to answer it.

Through the quiet night, Hilary’s trembling voice rang clear.

"Brother Elliot, I think someone broke into my room! I’m hiding in the bathroom, too scared to come out. I can’t reach my manager and don’t know what to do…" Her sobs punctuated her words, each one tugging at the air between them.

"Stay hidden and don’t move. I’m coming over. Keep the line open."

Without glancing back, Elliot bolted out the door, leaving the room and Millie behind.

Millie chuckled softly under her breath, her expression unreadable, before heading to the bathroom.

By the time she emerged from her bath, the clock had struck 11 p.m. She climbed into bed and reached for her phone, which buzzed twice on the bedside table.

Unlocking it, an unnamed profile flashed on the screen, accompanied by a string of messages. [Don’t think you can use the baby to tie him down. Neither you nor your child will take Elliot from me.]

[You think he loves you? He’s only with you out of pity.]

Her thumb hovered over the short video attached and she tapped it. The dim screen flickered to life, releasing muffled sounds that made her stomach churn.

A delicate voice whimpered, "Elliot… Elliot… Brother Elliot… be gentle… Hale hurts…"

The man in the clip said nothing, only letting out a faint, weary sigh before the recording ended.

Another message followed instantly. [He always falls asleep so quickly afterward.]

Millie’s grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles whitening as she forced a sharp intake of breath, battling the wave of nausea clawing at her chest.

Saving the photo and video without a second thought, Millie lay back and drifted into a restless sleep.

By morning, she had made up her mind. She submitted her resignation without hesitation and walked out of the building, her decision firm and resolute. As she stepped outside, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Hilary’s name flashed on the screen.

When she arrived, Hilary was already waiting, her smug demeanor evident. Millie took her seat across the table and wasted no time. "What do you want?"

"Just catching up with an old friend…"

Millie’s gaze hardened as she cut through the charade. "Don’t waste your time pretending with me. I’m not Elliot."

Hilary’s smile grew sharper, a glint of malice dancing in her eyes. She leaned forward, her words slow and deliberate. "Millie, relationships can’t be forced. You spent ten years chasing after Elliot and what did it get you? A marriage was as hollow as an empty shell. Was it worth it?"

"And do you even know the truth? Elliot wouldn't have looked your way if it weren’t for me. Back in the day, I told him about this girl in class who was ‘bullying’ me. He was so eager to devise schemes to get back at you."

"Remember when we pushed you down the stairs? He carried you to the infirmary and you cried your eyes out, saying no one had ever been so kind to you. We laughed ourselves sick when he came back and told us."

"Did you not see it? Every one of those moments where he played the hero—they were his ideas all along.”

"Watching you gaze at him like he was some sort of savior was hilarious. We couldn’t help but think—how could someone be so pathetically blind?"

Millie tightened her grip on the cup, her fingers trembling as she bit her lip, desperately trying to keep the tears from spilling.

So, this was the truth. Every time they pushed her down the stairs, falsely accused her of theft, or tormented her in the restroom—he had been there. Elliot had seen everything.

Every moment he "just happened to pass by," every instance he seemed to swoop in at the perfect time—it had never been a coincidence.

The one she had foolishly seen as her savior, her light in an otherwise pitchblack world, had never truly been on her side. From the beginning, he had been nothing more than a silent accomplice.

He even went out of his way to distract the teachers, ensuring no interruptions for their schemes.

A cruel sense of irony swept over her as she imagined how proud he must have felt. She watched her look up to him with awe, clinging to the illusion of his kindness, never letting go.

Memories she had once cherished now felt like daggers in her heart.

"Elliot, which university are you applying to? Wherever you go, I’ll follow."

"I don’t care what happens, as long as you let me stay by your side."

"You were the first person to teach me what love is. I think… you’ll be the only one I’ll ever love."

Hilary’s lips moved, but her words were drowned out by the loud buzz in Millie’s ears. The sound was so loud it felt like her head might burst at any moment.

“Shut up! Haley, just shut up!”

“Millie, when your mother became a mistress and shattered someone else’s marriage, did she ever think that karma would one day come for her daughter? I’m simply here to make sure you feel the pain my mother endured.”

Lowering her voice, Hilary added, her smile brimming with confidence, “But now that I’ve had my fun, it’s time for you to step aside.”

Millie let out a bitter laugh. “Does picking up trash bring you satisfaction?”

Hilary’s smirk faltered as frustration crept into her expression. “Still the same sharp tongue,” she sneered. “You could beg for mercy and save some humiliation, but no, you just have to cling to this holierthanthou act. It’s disgusting.”

“You know, I enjoy watching you break down—crying, kneeling, admitting just how worthless you are…”

Pulling out her phone, Hilary flipped the screen to face Millie. A photo appeared, showing a girl curled up in a corner, clutching her bruised body. Her arms and legs bore vivid marks of violence, yet her face remained stoic, her gaze blank. Above the photo, the caption read: [Beating a dog while it’s down.]

“Look at her,” Hilary murmured, her voice dripping with mockery. “So pitiful, so deserving of everyone’s sympathy.”

A tidal wave of humiliation crashed over Millie, the memories she had buried now surging to the surface, suffocating her. Time hadn’t erased the past—it had merely tucked it away, waiting for moments like this to resurface.

Without warning, the sharp sound of a slap echoed through the quiet café, silencing the murmurs around them.

Hilary’s head snapped to the side, her cheek blossoming with a vivid red handprint. She slowly turned back to Millie, her hand covering the stinging mark. Malice flickered in her eyes but vanished instantly, replaced by a teary, wounded expression.

“Millie…”

“If you want to perform, I’ll gladly join in.”

She grabbed the glass of juice from the table and poured it over Hilary’s head. The yellow liquid trickled down her hair, staining her clothes and bag, bits of pulp clinging to her like an unwelcome reminder of the moment.

Hilary froze, a fleeting smile flashing across her lips before her eyes reddened. Her expression shifted to one of fragile innocence.

Around the café, curious eyes turned toward them. Someone whispered Hilary’s name and another discreetly started recording on their phone.

“Haley,” Millie said, her voice steady, “if you think you’re worthy, fight for him. Win and I’ll gladly step aside. That way, you won’t carry the burden of being a homewrecker.”

Hilary stared back at her, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Alright.”

By evening, photos from the café flooded social media. Hilary’s vague yet suggestive post painted Millie as the villain, the narrative turning her into the bully who had once tormented Hilary.

Uninformed netizens and Hilary’s devoted fans swarmed the internet like vultures circling a carcass, flooding every platform with venomous insults. They demanded Millie issue a public apology, their outrage growing louder by the hour.

Without Millie’s unique status, her past would have already been dragged out and dissected by the public eye.

Amid the chaos, Millie remained as calm as a still lake. She simply switched off her phone, leaving the online uproar to burn out and went to bed without a second thought.

She had no idea how long she’d been asleep when she stirred awake, her senses returning slowly.

The bedroom was cloaked in darkness, but the faint silver glow of the moon seeped through the curtains. Through its light, she could make out the silhouette of someone seated by the floortoceiling window, a quiet, brooding figure.

“Millie, just apologize to her and this will all blow over,” Elliot’s familiar voice broke the silence, low and measured. He stubbed out a cigarette with a practiced flick and stepped out of the shadows, moving closer to her.

Millie’s gaze met his, calm and courageous, as she lay still on the bed. “Aren’t you even curious to know why?”

“It doesn’t matter. Millie, the court doesn’t care why a criminal does what they do. If you’re wrong, you admit it. Simple as that.”

He perched on the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing back a stray lock of her hair with an almost tender touch. “You went too far this time.”

Millie tilted her face into his palm, her expression soft, her movements deliberate, exuding a quiet dependence. Yet beneath the surface, her thoughts simmered.

Too far? Over a glass of juice?

She couldn’t help but scoff inwardly. If Hilary caused someone’s death, she wondered, would Elliot still take the same detached stance? Would he still insist on apologies and moving on?

“Alright,” she said softly. “I’ll apologize. Tomorrow, I’ll even cook for her as a goodwill gesture.”

Elliot blinked, clearly surprised by her sudden compliance. But he didn’t linger on it. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her forehead, his tone warm and approving. “Good girl. You always know how to make things easier.”

The next morning, Millie rose with the first light of dawn. Instead of stepping into the kitchen, she called for a highend restaurant to deliver an impeccable spread. By the time she finished plating the dishes, the faint click of the door unlocking reached her ears.

Peering through the doorway, Millie caught sight of Hilary, impeccably dressed and exuding confidence as she strolled inside as if she still owned the place.

“Apologies, Millie,” Hilary said breezy, making herself comfortable on the sofa. “I used to live here, you know. I didn’t expect Elliot to turn it into your marital home while I was abroad. The door lock’s password hasn’t changed, so I thought I’d let myself in.”

“No problem at all. If you’d like, you’re welcome to move back in. The room you used to stay in is still regularly cleaned. There are even some things of yours left behind. Feel free to look and see if there’s anything you need to clear out.”

Hilary arched a brow but said nothing, heading upstairs with the ease of someone who knew the house inside and out.

Opening the door to her old bedroom, she was greeted by a preserved time capsule of her past. The desk held a framed photo from years ago—a snapshot of her and Elliot in their youth.

In the picture, her hair was tied back in a neat ponytail and she wore a bright smile as she stood beside Elliot, who had a cocky smirk and his hands shoved casually into his pockets.

Elliot had always loathed taking pictures, but she had nagged him endlessly during their middle school graduation until he reluctantly gave in. That single photo held a thousand memories.

“Elliot seems to cherish this photo,” Millie said, her voice breaking the silence.

Startled, Hilary turned to see Millie leaning casually against the doorframe, her gaze cool but not unkind. With a sweet smile, Hilary replied, “Some memories are simply irreplaceable.”

Millie’s lips curved into a faint, detached smile. “I won’t argue with that. So what?”

"If you step aside now, you can still save some dignity."

Unmoved, Millie stepped aside, giving her just enough space to leave the room. “Do you even love him, or is this all about keeping your family’s secrets under wraps? You know the truth. Your father broke the law and trying to hide behind the Hemsworth family’s power is beyond laughable.”

Hilary froze midstride, a soft chuckle slipping from her lips. “Loving him and securing my family’s interests aren’t mutually exclusive,” she said, her tone tinged with mockery. “But it’s not your place to preach. Instead of pointing fingers, maybe you should start planning how to squeeze the most out of Elliot when the divorce papers come. Otherwise, you might walk away with nothing.”

Before Millie could respond, the sound of the front door unlocking drifted upstairs. Hilary’s demeanor shifted instantly.

With practiced ease, she softened her expression, her steps light as she turned and clasped Millie’s hand in a show of warmth.

“Millie, don’t think too much about it,” Hilary said. I don’t blame you for anything. If anything, I was in the wrong back when we were kids. Bullying you was my mistake and I deserve the punishment.”

Millie’s lips curled into a sly smile. “You’ve been playing the part for so long, aren’t you exhausted? This time, it’s my turn to steal the show.”

Before Hilary could even process her words, Millie yanked her hand and leaned back with force. In an instant, Hilary was sent tumbling down the stairs, her body hitting each step with a sickening thud. A pool of blood quickly began to spread, staining her white dress in a horrific, vibrant red.

Staring up at Millie, Hilary’s voice trembled with disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? You’re risking your life just to frame me?”

The sound of commotion drew Elliot into the scene. He entered in a frantic rush, not even bothering to change his shoes. His eyes went wide with horror as he saw Millie lying motionless, blood pooling beneath her. It felt as if his very blood had turned cold, his mind racing in confusion.

With trembling hands, he dialed emergency services, panic seeping into his every movement. His breath came in shallow gasps as he knelt beside Millie, not daring to touch her, fearful of making things worse.

“Millie, don’t close your eyes. Stay with me. Please, open your eyes.”

Meanwhile, Hilary, her voice shaky, kept pleading, “Brother, it wasn’t me… It was her… it wasn’t me…”

“Shut up!” Elliot snapped, his voice cold and harsh. He shot Hilary a venomous glare, his face smeared with blood, his eyes bloodshot, veins throbbing on his forehead. He looked every bit the demon he had become at that moment, causing Hilary to shrink back in terror.

She had never seen him like this before. Yes, Elliot had a temper, but he had always been kind, gentle and indulgent toward her. He was always the one who understood, who listened.

But now, for the first time, he was shouting at her for Millie. Fear and uncertainty began to seep into Hilary’s heart. She questioned whether the man she once thought she knew had truly changed.

When the ambulance arrived, Hilary tried to follow, but Elliot stood firm, blocking her way at the door. “Stay here and keep quiet. You’d better pray she’s alright.”

Hilary lowered her head, her heart sinking as tears welled in her eyes, unbidden.

Millie remained unconscious for two long days, her life hanging in the balance, before she finally stirred, her eyelids fluttering open.

The moment Millie’s eyes fluttered open, Elliot’s exhaustion melted away, replaced by pure relief and joy.

Before she could process what was happening, Elliot pulled her into his arms, his body trembling ever so slightly.

“The baby… it’s gone, isn’t it?” Millie’s voice was barely a whisper as her gaze fell to the bed.

Elliot froze, his arms tightening around her as he struggled to breathe. He murmured softly, “We can always have another.”

“You know that’s not possible, Elliot,” Millie choked, her voice thick with pain as she looked away.

Elliot gently lifted her face, his thumb brushing away the tears that streaked down her cheeks. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter if we don’t have a child. I told you, all I want is you.”

“If you want, we can adopt one in the future.”

Before Millie could respond, her phone buzzed.

It was a message from Hilary.

[Millie, so what if you risked your life? You’ll never beat me. Don’t believe me? Try it.]

Attached to the message was a pregnancy report.

A moment later, Elliot’s phone buzzed as well.

Millie’s gaze flicked to the screen.

The pregnancy report was accompanied by a chilling message. [Choose between her or me and the baby. If you don’t want this child, I’ll get rid of it right now.]

Elliot sprang to his feet, his phone clenched tightly in his hand. His voice was strained. “Millie, there’s an emergency at the company. I need to go back for a bit. Once I’m done, I’ll come back to stay with you, alright?”

Millie looked into his eyes, her expression unreadable, before a soft, bitter laugh escaped her lips.

The smile on her face made Elliot pause, something unsettling flickering in his chest. He hesitated, lowering his head to place a soft kiss on her forehead. In a low, reassuring voice, he said, “I’ll be back soon. Wait for me.”

Then, without another word, he hurried out of the hospital room, his footsteps echoing in the silence behind him.

Once the door clicked shut, Millie wiped her tears away, her face steely and calm. She pulled out her phone, opened a red app and logged into an account she hadn’t visited in years.

This account had been Millie’s for seven years. She never cared much for posting on her Instagram. Still, in moments of sleeplessness, she would share stray thoughts or the occasional update about her life with Elliot. Over time, her quiet presence had unintentionally gathered a following.

On her wedding day, her feed had flooded with messages of congratulations, each one celebrating her dream come true, wishing her a life filled with happiness and fulfillment. It had been the happiest day of her life.

Not just because she had married Elliot, the man she had always longed for, but because, for the first time, she had been showered with such genuine kindness.

Growing up, she had become all too familiar with ridicule, with being silenced and scorned. But at that moment, she couldn’t stop her eyes from welling up at the sight of real goodwill.

Millie opened the app. The latest update was from half a year ago.

Many followers had sent private messages, asking why she hadn’t posted in so long.

She tapped the text editor and typed the words:

"I’ve been diagnosed with stomach cancer and don’t have much time left…

And my lover has cheated on me.

They’re building a new life together.

He went to her.

Before he left, he told me to wait for him.

But what he didn’t know is that when my mother abandoned me all those years ago, I secretly swore to myself:

I would never wait for anyone again in this lifetime.

So, for these past ten years, I chased after him and stayed by his side.

But in the end, he still left me.

This time, I won’t wait for him anymore.

So, let’s not say goodbye."

After typing the final word, Millie pulled out the signed divorce agreement and placed it on the desk.

Once the discharge procedures were complete, she took a car to the highway. To prevent Elliot from tracking her movements, she deliberately chose a carpool.

Elliot would never guess that she wasn’t heading to New Zealand but returning to her hometown, Wellington.

It was there, in a plot she had bought just for herself, that she would lay herself to rest.

As a child, she had often heard the elderly say that fallen leaves always return to their roots. But Millie didn’t know where her roots were. Her heart had been completely consumed by Elliot, hoping that he would give her a home.

But what she had longed for wasn’t truly hers.

And now, she didn’t want it anymore.

When Millie arrived, Tiffany was already waiting at the highway entrance with her luggage.

The moment Tiffany saw her, her eyes reddened. "How could you let yourself fall so far? Was it worth it?"

"You could’ve had proper treatment. There’s still—"

"Tiffany," Millie interrupted with a faint smile, wiping away Tiffany’s tears. "Ever since I found out the truth, I never intended to let them have it easy. You know me—I hold grudges."

Tiffany nodded fiercely. "Exactly! Don’t let those scumbags get away with it. Elliot can regret this for the rest of his life!"

Tiffany Molina nodded fiercely. "Exactly! Don’t let those shameless scumbags off easily. Elliot Hemsworth, that blind fool, can regret it for the rest of his life!"

"I’ll leave the rest to you." Millie handed her phone to Tiffany. "If he comes looking for you, give this to him."

After a silent hug, Millie got into the car bound for Wellington.

From this moment on, there would be no more Millie in this world.