Chapter 1: That Woman Returns
I sat still.
Not because I was shocked— but because I had seen this coming since last night.
Jay came home. And just as I had feared, he brought a "gift" from his past. Cynthia. Of course.
As usual, he didn’t even bother to look at me when he spoke.
“She’ll be staying here. Just for a while.”
That’s it. One dry sentence. As if I were just some unimportant guest in this house. As if I—his wife—was merely a footnote in a decision he’d made alone.
“This house is big. She’ll stay in the west wing. You won’t have to see her often.”
How… considerate of him. So thoughtful, creating such a neat boundary between wife and former lover— The same woman he almost married. Almost, if she hadn’t chosen to leave before the reception.I looked at him.
Jay didn’t flinch. His gaze was empty, but its coldness hit harder than any rage. It said: Accept it. Or leave.
Cynthia walked in slowly—graceful, as always. She sat on the sofa like she had just returned home. Her movements were soft, calculated. Her face looked tired, yet still beautiful. Tears hung delicately in her eyes—perfect, like everything she showed to the world.
“Runi... I... I'm so sorry. I don’t mean to cause any trouble. I just… I really have nowhere else to go. I promise I won’t be a burden.”
Her voice was soft. Trembling. Pleading. So fragile. The kind of voice that makes everyone want to protect her. Sweet on the outside— But I knew... Sharp underneath.
Everyone always pitied women like Cynthia.
Jay didn’t respond. No “It’s okay, Tya.” No sweet reassurance.But his silence… Was worse. Because Jay’s silence was the cruelest kind of permission.
“Cynthia’s not going anywhere.”
Jay finally spoke. One sentence. Flat. Firm. Cold.
Then came the grand welcoming committee: Ria. With her high-pitched voice and smug little smile.
“Sis Tya! You don’t have to leave. This is my house too, and I say you can stay. Brother already said so, didn’t he?”
She looked at me—not with sympathy, but with victory.
“Sister in law, what’s your problem? Someone’s in trouble and you’re trying to kick her out? She’s just staying for a while. Or are you... scared?”
Ah, Ria.
She always knew how to cut deep—without raising her voice.
No knives needed. Her tone was sharp enough.
Cynthia lowered her head. Quiet. But somehow, even in her silence, I felt it— That quiet satisfaction. As if she already knew: I would slowly be erased. Without her ever lifting a finger.
I looked at them one by one.
Jay.
Cynthia.
Ria.
What a performance.
And me? Just a background character. Not even given a script.
I took a slow breath.
Three years. I’ve swallowed all of this for three years.Jay, always cold. His mother, always nagging. Ria, always superior. And his father—always conveniently deaf.
“Fine,” I said softly.
A small smile curved on my lips. Bitter.
“She can stay…”
I stood up. Slowly. My eyes met Jay’s. Then Cynthia’s.There was no more voice inside me. It had died long ago.But what remained now— was silent certainty.
“…but I’m the one who’s leaving.”
No shouting. No tears. Because sometimes— Walking away with your head held high... is the loudest statement you can make.
