7
Mark wiped up the spilled perfume.
Looking at his reflection, he remembered
Sarah applying makeup here.
She always said she wasn’t pretty enough,
afraid of getting old and being rejected by
Mark; if that happened, she would be
completely alone.
She said she was afraid of being alone,
hoping Mark would never leave her.
Her voice was pleading, her eyes filled with
tears.
Just like Vivian, when she was a child, would
pull his hand and beg him not to leave.
Their eyes held dependence and trust, making
<
ཅད
him hesitant to shatter it.
So he used Sarah to replace Vivian after he
failed to protect Vivian.
8
Mark accidentally found a divorce agreement
in a secret compartment of the vanity.
It clearly stated his infidelity and demanded
he leave with nothing.
He was hit hard, angrily sweeping everything
off the vanity.
I don’t know if he was angry about the
divorce or about the money.
When I fell for Mark, I didn’t know he had a
sweetheart, a first love like his younger sister.
My family moved next door.
My parents, trying to get to know our new
neighbors, always sent me over with food.
Slowly, I fell for the quiet and aloof Mark.
I was with him from middle school to college.
One day be got drunk and we slept together.
<
that was the day he accepted me.
I didn’t know then that Vivian was married
abroad; he’d been angry and started dating
me right after he heard the news.
At that time, he was lonely, and I was head-
over–heels.
He occasionally mentioned his sister; I offered
to exchange contacts, hoping to build a
relationship with her. That time, he was
furious, his raised hand never falling.
I thought we’d live a quiet, distant life.
Until I saw a photo, worn smooth by his
fingers, in the top drawer of his study.
It was a vibrant young girl, beautiful, a beauty
I couldn’t compare to.
That’s when I learned his sister wasn’t just a
“sister.”
Vivian divorced and returned to the country; it
was the start of Mark’s frequent absences.
He was blatant, not considering the
く
consequences of being discovered.
Perhaps because I hadn’t discovered
anything, and he was too impatient, he
confessed.
He said Vivian was back, that he still loved
her, and if I accepted it, I could remain Mrs.
Johnson.
Yes, he was arrogant, willing to betray the
world, including me, for Vivian.
Once again, I entered his study, and a hidden
cabinet was full of Vivian’s belongings.
Photos of her from childhood to adulthood,
his plane tickets to her city, her letters, even
clothes she wore.
I was shocked; my husband was a stalker, his
love obsessive and twisted.
Then I understood why he didn’t want me to
have a child.
He deeply loved his sister.
And I wasn’t even a substitute.
He looked down on me, “You can be Mrs.
Johnson, but I… don’t expect me to belong to
you, not at all.”
Mrs. Johnson? Without my help, there would
be no Jiang Group!
This was something I built for myself, yet it
was treated as a handout from him.
I was the joke.
Wasn’t it tragic?
