1 During my fourth year with Lucas, I suddenly gained the ability to detect lies. Whenever someone lied, their words would float before my eyes in a vivid, burning red. Honest words, on the other hand, appeared in a stark, quiet black. At first, I thought it was a quirky trick. Until one night, Lucas held me close and whispered, “I will love only you for the rest of my life.” The words flared. A blinding, painful red. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Before leaving the next morning, he kissed my forehead. “I have to work late tonight. Don’t wait up.” Red. I started paying attention to everything he said. “There is no one else.” Red. “Just a text from a coworker.” Red. “You’re overthinking things.” Red. For an entire week, not a single word he spoke to me was black. Until the weekend, when he took a call, stepping out onto the balcony and lowering his voice. “I miss you, too. See you tomorrow.” Black. The only truth he had spoken all week. But it wasn’t meant for me. When Lucas slid the glass door shut and stepped back inside, he brought a draft of cold air with him. He slipped his phone into his pocket with practiced ease, sat down beside me, and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” I stared at him. The caring inquiry floated in black. He genuinely cared about my well-being. I bit my lip and asked softly, “Lucas, do you love me?” He smiled without a second of hesitation. “Of course I do. Why are you even asking?” The letters appeared in a deep, heavy black. He wasn’t lying. He really did love me. My chest loosened slightly, and I immediately asked my second question. “But… will I be the only one you ever love?” Lucas kissed my cheek, his voice soft as water. “Of course, sweetheart. Only you.” Red. My heart plummeted. “What’s wrong? You’re acting strange today.” Lucas ruffled my hair, his movements light and effortless, showing not a hint of a guilty conscience. “What do you want for breakfast tomorrow? I’ll make it for you.” He smoothly changed the subject. I lowered my eyes, my eyelashes trembling to hide the bitter sting. “Whatever. Anything you make is fine.” He smiled, getting up to wash. Hearing the shower running, I curled up on the bed. The mattress was soft, bought after three afternoons of searching. Four years ago, he was living in a tiny basement apartment. He had held my hand, his palm burning hot. “Barbie, I’ll make sure we live in a big house and sleep on the softest bed! Every word I say to you is the absolute truth.” Back then, those words would have been black. I fell for his honesty. Now the bed was soft, but the words were red. Next morning, he said, “I have a meeting with a client. Make sure you eat breakfast.” Red. I held my mug tightly. “Okay. Come back early.” He left. I went to fold the blankets and saw his tablet screen was still on, open to his calendar page. Gemma’s birthday, 7:00 PM, Cloud River Bistro. No cilantro, steak cooked medium. I stared at it. He remembered her dislikes, her steak temperature, and booked a restaurant. I flipped to my birthday. Clean. No restaurant, no notes, no preferences. Only a bank transfer with a note: Happy Birthday. I remembered that day. He said there was an urgent project issue. I told myself it was fine, he was busy. But he wasn’t busy; he just wanted to be with someone else. I took a screenshot of the calendar page and saved it to my hidden folder. Later, I met his mother in the courtyard. She was chatting with other elderly ladies. “Barbie! The knee pads Gemma bought me are wonderful. She even took me to the hospital for my checkup. That girl is so much more attentive than you.” Another lady joined in. “Not many young girls are so thoughtful these days.” His mother sighed. “Yes, Barbie, you should learn from her. Don’t be so quiet all the time.” I smiled. “Okay, I will.” Last month, I had bought her knee pads too. She barely looked at them, throwing them on the sofa. “Just leave them there, I already have some.” When I did it, it was expected. When Gemma did it, it was sweet. I squeezed my package, the cardboard digging into my palm. I booked a one-way ticket back home for five days later. Then I texted my mother. Mom, I’m coming home to stay for a while. She replied instantly with a voice message. Really? Wonderful! I’ll clean your room. What do you want to eat… In the recording, she coughed heavily. My eyes welled up. For four years, because Lucas was busy, I barely went home. I guarded a man full of lies and lost the only real love I had. Lucas returned at eleven that night. He brought my favorite dessert and hugged me from behind. “I’ve been so busy lately. I’ll make it up to you.” Red. “Didn’t you want to visit your mom? I’ll go with you once I’m free.” Red. His hands were warm, his voice soft. I shut my eyes and didn’t call him out. Next morning, I noticed a faint red smudge on his collar. It was not my shade. “Who did you meet yesterday? Your collar is dirty.” Lucas froze, then frowned with annoyance. “Who else? I told you it was a client. Barbie, since when did you start checking up on me?” He looked at me, righteous. “I’ve never lied to you. You should trust me.” Red. The red letters floating in front of his upright face were a cruel joke. I said nothing. He got angrier. “We’ve been together four years, and you never used to ask. You’ve changed, Barbie.” I whispered, “Sorry. I was overthinking.” He relaxed, patting my cheek. “That’s my girl. I’m working this hard for our future, aren’t I?” To make up for the morning, he offered to take me to a French restaurant I’d been wanting to try. I got dressed up. Right before we left, his phone rang. “Barbie, I’m so sorry. The client’s proposal has an issue, I have to go.” Red. He didn’t even bother to make up a new lie. “I’ll make it up to you, okay?” He kissed my head and left. I washed my face and made a simple bowl of noodles. At midnight, he came home. He put his phone on the table and went to shower. His screen lit up with Gemma’s social media post. I opened it. It was the restaurant he promised to take me to. Two steaks. Across the table, the man’s wrist wore the watch I gave him for his birthday. Caption: The best meal ever. Thank you, Mr. Lu. I dumped my half-eaten noodles, bowl and all, into the trash. Lucas showered and saw the empty table. “Why didn’t you eat? Not hungry?” “Not hungry.” I turned away. “Fine then.” He didn’t ask further. Next evening, he invited college friends over. Gemma came, smiling sweetly. “Hey, Barbie! Sorry to barge in.” Every compliment she paid me turned red. Not a single black word came from her mouth all evening. In the kitchen, she followed me to cut fruit. She naturally opened the left cabinet to get a glass, opened the drawer for tea. Then she grabbed my apron from behind the door and put it on. She was so natural, as if she lived here. Someone in the living room laughed. “Gemma, you and Lucas are so in sync. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you guys were an old married couple.” Silence. Then someone added, “Barbie, you wouldn’t mind something like this, right? Lucas is so good to you. Don’t be petty, Gemma is just sweet.” Like nails driving into me. Lucas sat right there, saying nothing. Not explaining, not stopping it. I remembered our first year, when a colleague said I wasn’t good enough for him. Lucas’s face had darkened. “Say that again and see what happens.” I had remembered that protective look for four years. Now, he didn’t even blink. After they left, he rubbed his temples. “See, even they think you’ve been off lately.” I stared at my hands. “You’re right. I was too sensitive.” I went to the study, shut the door, and slid down the wall. My eyes burned. That night, I packed. I found an old card from our first year. Every word I say is true, now and forever. I put it in the suitcase with the rest. Next day, Gemma’s private account posted a photo of an old café. He said this is his most important place, and he wanted to bring me here today. It was the place where Lucas confessed his love to me four years ago. The exact same seat. I closed my eyes. Back then, his hands had been sweaty. “I like you.” I knew those words were black. Now, same seat, different girl. Lucas came in, hugging me from behind. “Barbie, why are you standing here?” His phone rang. His mother. He put it on speaker. “Lucas, bring Barbie over for dinner this weekend. Gemma bought some fresh wagyu and brought it over for us. Honestly, Gemma is so family-oriented even without an official title, unlike Barbie. Your taste in friends is so much better than your taste in partners.” Lucas frowned, glanced at me, but didn’t defend me. “Mom, I got it. I’m hanging up.” He dismissed it. “My mom is just like that. Don’t take it to heart.” But Lucas, did you know? Every word your mother said was black. At dinner, the tension was suffocating. He kept putting food on my plate, telling random jokes to maintain the crumbling peace. I put down my chopsticks. “Lucas, what exactly is your relationship with Gemma?” He froze. He put down his bowl, knelt in front of me, cupping my face. “Barbie, I haven’t betrayed you. I swear, you are the only one I love.” A dense, suffocating wall of red text fell over us. His eyes looked sincere, his voice tender, his hands warm. But every single word burned red. “Why have you become like this? You never used to ask these things.” I bit my lip until it went white. I didn’t ask before because I didn’t need to. Now, with everything red, how could I not ask? In the end, I put my hand over his. “Okay. I believe you.” The biggest lie I ever told. Lucas smiled in relief, kissed my forehead. “That’s my good girl.” He hummed a tune and went to shower. I confirmed my flight and texted mom. Arriving tomorrow. She replied instantly. Great! I’ll pick you up! Making pork rib soup, travel safe. I stared at it and sent a single word. Okay. On the last morning, Lucas didn’t go out. He actually made breakfast. “I’ve neglected you lately. I canceled all my plans today. I’m staying home to be with you.” This text was black. He genuinely meant it in that moment. We had a quiet morning. He washed my paintbrushes, and I made coffee. He hugged me. “Let’s do this every weekend, okay?” Red. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Before noon, his phone rang. Gemma was crying, her voice shaking. But every word she said was red. Not a single truth. Lucas didn’t know. He only heard her begging. He stood at the door, one foot inside, one foot out. He grabbed his coat. “I have to handle something. I’ll be back in an hour.” Red. “You always say an hour.” “I’ll definitely be back before lunch.” Red. The door closed. The eggs on the table were still warm. Soon, the doorbell rang. His mother. “Gemma told me you’ve been checking Lucas’s phone. Don’t you know men hate that? He works so hard, what else do you want from him? Look at Gemma, she never causes trouble. She cooks, cleans, buys groceries for you guys. She looks more like the lady of the house than you do.” My heart went completely cold. So when I wasn’t home, she had been here so many times, using my kitchen, my utensils, wearing my apron. His mother spoke again. “If you force him to break up with you, you’ll be the one crying. He has plenty of options.” I looked up. “You’re right. It’s my fault.” She left, satisfied. The house was silent. I went to the bedroom and pulled out my suitcase. In the study, I printed the screenshots from my hidden folder. I stuck sticky notes on each one, writing his lies. Meeting a client. Sudden dinner plan. Just a coworker. I’ve never lied to you. At the very top, I placed the card from four years ago. Every word I say is true, now and forever. Next to it, I placed the house keys. I dragged my suitcase to the foyer. I looked back at the home of four years. Quiet, unfamiliar. I gently closed the door and didn’t look back. Lucas. Every word you said was true. Once. But not anymore.
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