Marcus has face blindness. We’ve been married for eight years, yet he can still mistake another woman for his wife when we’re walking through a shopping mall. To help him with his condition, I signed him up for specialized visual training and tried to take him to his therapy sessions. But today, I caught him on TikTok, showering a fashion influencer with expensive virtual gifts. I smiled and asked him casually, “Since when did you start watching this kind of stuff?” Because of his face blindness, he always used to say everyone in short videos looked exactly the same to him. He found it boring. A few years ago, I suggested he download TikTok so we could post vlogs of our married life together. He rejected the idea instantly. He said if his clients saw it, they would laugh at him for being childish. Marcus leaned back against the sofa, guiltily rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s nothing. It just popped up on my feed, so I took a look.” After saying that, he lowered his head again, his eyes glued to the screen, feverishly sending more gifts to the female streamer. I clutched his medical files tightly in my hand. I stared at the “No. 1 Fan” badge next to his username on the screen, and then looked at the woman with big, bouncy curls showing off her glamorous outfit. For a moment, I was completely dazed. It wasn’t until that night, while searching through Marcus’s study, that I found a sketchpad. The heavy sketchbook was filled from cover to cover with detailed, exquisite drawings of that same female streamer. Every single page had a note written on it: Scarlett today. Underneath the sketchbook lay nine hundred and ninety-nine movie ticket stubs—all for movies watched with the exact same person. At that moment, the cold truth finally hit me. He didn’t have face blindness at all. He just never bothered to remember my face.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and a loud buzzing rang in my ears. My hands shook violently as I turned the pages of the sketchbook. Scarlett’s smiles and expressions were captured in those drawings with absolute devotion and care. Marcus’s medical records slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor. Those pages were covered with my messy handwriting, detailing his symptoms, his therapy plans, and daily things he needed to watch out for. I had spent a whole month attending medical seminars and observing him every single day, taking endless notes just so his “face blindness” would get better. But looking at the sketchbook in my hands, I realized how incredibly stupid and pathetic I was. With a shaking hand, I picked up the medical records and tore them into shreds. Guided by my memory, my trembling fingers typed Scarlett’s username into the search bar. Aside from her fashion videos, her account was packed with photos of her and Marcus! In the videos, Marcus happily posed and cooperated with Scarlett. Was this really the same Marcus who told me that taking photos was childish? Scarlett had recently posted a picture showing off matching couple rings on their ring fingers. There were comments from her followers underneath. “Such a handsome couple! Scarlett and her boyfriend are so sweet together!” I remembered last year when I noticed Marcus had stopped wearing his wedding band. I had asked him about it back then. He told me it was uncomfortable to wear while working. My eyes welled with tears as I kept scrolling down. There were over a thousand videos, dating from three years ago to the present day. Marcus’s face appeared in almost every single one of them. So, they had been sleeping together since three years ago! I clicked on one specific video. In it, Scarlett was lying on a hospital bed, her sweet, pampered voice echoing from the phone speaker. “Great news, everyone! Both mommy and baby boy are doing great. Thank you all for your love!” In the video, Marcus was sitting right by her bedside, gently blowing on a cup of warm water before carefully feeding it to Scarlett. “You did amazing, sweetheart. Thank you for your hard work.” When I saw the upload date of that video, my mind went completely blank. That was the exact day of my miscarriage. I had fallen down the stairs that day. I called Marcus, but he brushed me off, saying he was too busy at work and couldn’t leave. He said he would send his assistant. But his assistant never showed up. I was in so much pain I was about to pass out, so I called my grandmother. Because of my panicked call, my grandmother drove in such a rush to get to me that she got into a fatal car crash on the way. Because I was left alone for another half hour, the baby didn’t make it. My uterus was severely damaged, and the doctors told me I could never get pregnant again. For a long time, I blamed myself entirely. I saw myself as a murderer. To try and get pregnant again, I took countless pills and endured so many hormone injections that my stomach was covered in needle marks. I even developed severe depression and thought about ending my life. Back then, Marcus had fallen to his knees before me, his eyes red. “It’s okay if we don’t have kids, Hathaway. I only care about your health.” But the truth was, he already had a family waiting for him outside! I bit my lip so hard the skin broke, filling my mouth with the metallic taste of blood. With trembling fingers, I dialed my best friend Juliet’s number. “Marcus is cheating on me. How can I get a divorce in the shortest time possible?” Just as I hung up, the phone on the desk vibrated. A text from Marcus popped up: “I have to work late at the office tonight. I won’t be coming home. Don’t wait up for me.”
A wave of overwhelming rage and betrayal washed over me. I pulled up his real-time location on my phone. Because of Marcus’s supposed face blindness, I had installed a GPS tracker on his phone, terrified he would get lost. The Uber sped down the road, getting closer and closer to the pinpoint on the map. My nails dug so deep into my palms that they bled. I stared at the screen, putting myself through torture, yet a small, pathetic part of me still hoped this was all a giant mistake. Until the Uber pulled up near the amusement park downtown. Amidst the crowded streets, I spotted Marcus instantly. He wasn’t at the office. He was holding a glowing wand in his right hand, while his left hand was wrapped tightly around Scarlett’s slender wrist. His face wore a look of pure adoration I had never seen before. “Marcus, I want to go to the movies later,” Scarlett whined, tugging at his arm like a spoiled teenager. “Today is your birthday, babe. I’ll give you whatever you want,” Marcus smiled, tapping her nose playfully. He pinched her youthful, collagen-filled cheek and kissed her deeply. “You’re a mother now, and you still act like a little girl.” Behind them, fireworks exploded in the night sky. I stared at them, my tears finally spilling over. Today was also my twenty-fifth birthday. This morning, I had asked Marcus if we could go watch a movie together after his therapy session. Marcus had merely given me a cold, dismissive glance. He said, “You’re twenty-five, Hathaway, not fifteen. Can you stop being so childish? I’m too busy with work for that.” In our eight years of marriage, he had only taken me to the movies once, and that was after I begged him for weeks. Every time I wanted him to spend time with me, he always used the “busy with work” excuse. But then I thought of those nine hundred and ninety-nine movie tickets in his drawer. No matter the weather, no matter how busy he was, he always had time for Scarlett. Watching them kiss under the fireworks, I felt my heart being ripped to pieces. I thought of my unborn baby, who had been discarded like trash before even having a chance to live. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed the car door open and charged toward them. I wanted to scream at Marcus and demand to know why! For all these years, I had been his perfect little housewife, cooking, cleaning, and taking care of his demanding parents. Why did he do this to me? But before I could reach them, a loud fire alarm echoed through the entire park. Someone screamed, “Fire! There’s a fire!” The amusement park was surrounded by dense woods, and the dry brush ignited instantly. The flames spread rapidly, heading right toward my direction. The moment I saw the roaring fire, the dark memories of my childhood broke through my mind, suffocating me. I gasped for air, my knees buckling. I tried to turn around and run, but the panicked crowd shoved me to the ground. My ankle twisted with a sickening pop, and the sharp pain kept me from standing up. The fire grew larger, thick black smoke filling the air. People were screaming and running in all directions. I choked on the smoke, coughing violently. Through my tear-filled eyes, I saw Marcus running desperately in my direction. I coughed up tears, thinking he had finally spotted me. I reached my hand out to him in desperation. “Marcus… help me…” But he didn’t even look at me. He ran straight past me, as if I were a complete stranger, and grabbed Scarlett, who was right behind me, pulling her tightly into his arms. “Scarlett, don’t be afraid. I’m here.” Scarlett clung to his chest, sobbing loudly. “You scared me to death! I was so worried your face blindness would make you mistake someone else for me…” Marcus held her as if she were his entire world. “Silly girl. I could fail to recognize anyone else, but never you. Your face is carved into my heart. How could I ever forget?” He lifted her up, and the two of them ran out of the park, leaving me behind. Memories of our teenage years flashed before my eyes. When my stepmother had locked me in a burning shed, trying to cremate me alive, it was Marcus who had kicked the door open and pulled me out of the flames. He had put ointment on my burns and sworn to protect me forever, promising he would never let me be scared again. Ten years of knowing each other, eight years of marriage, and in the end, he left me to burn while carrying another woman. The fire crept closer. I stared at Marcus’s disappearing back, choking on the thick smoke until darkness finally claimed me.
When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at the sterile white ceiling of a hospital. An IV was hooked to the back of my hand, and my left arm was wrapped in heavy bandages. Beneath the gauze, the pain told me my skin had been badly burned. The door burst open, and Marcus rushed in, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Hathaway! The doctor called and said you were hospitalized for burns. Didn’t I tell you to stay your ass at home?” As he spoke, he rushed to the bed next to mine, grabbing the hand of the woman lying there with deep concern. “Who the hell are you? Why are you touching my wife’s hand?!” the woman’s husband snapped, shoving Marcus away. The nurse nearby gave Marcus a pitying look, sighed, and pointed at me. “Hathaway is in Bed 48.” Marcus froze. He turned around and stared at me for a long time before he finally recognized me. He scratched his head awkwardly and walked over to take my hand. “Hathaway…” The strong scent of Scarlett’s perfume on his clothes hit my nose. I stared at him in dead silence. There was a bright red lipstick stain on his neck. Looking at his face—the face of the man I had lived with for eight years, the same face that had abandoned me in a burning park to save another woman—I felt nothing but disgust. I looked at my bandaged, ruined arm. I let out a cold, self-deprecating laugh and slapped his hand away. “Marcus, tell me, how does it feel to keep a mistress on the side?” The moment those words left my mouth, every eye in the ward locked onto Marcus. His face flushed red with embarrassment, his eyes darting around guiltily. He lowered his voice and hissed at me. “Hathaway, are you out of your mind?!” “Just because I couldn’t spend your birthday with you due to work, you’re making this giant scene? Is this really necessary?!” Looking at his angry, defensive face, I felt sick. I unlocked my phone and shoved the pictures I took at the amusement park right in front of his face. Marcus took one look at the screen, and his voice died in his throat. “Hathaway, I…” He looked around nervously. I sneered. “What else do you want to say?” The other patients and their families started whispering, leaning in to get a glimpse of the photos. Marcus’s face turned pale. He snatched the phone from my hand and grabbed my arm, violently dragging me out of the bed. “There are too many people here. We’re talking outside!” “Why? Are you actually ashamed of the disgusting things you did?!” I screamed, struggling against his grip. Marcus yanked me out into the hallway. The IV needle was ripped violently out of my vein, and blood began to gush down my arm, but he didn’t even notice. Once we reached an empty corner of the hallway, he threw my hand down. “Hathaway, have you had enough?!” “Scarlett is a public figure! Why the hell are you taking photos of her? What are you trying to do, ruin her?!” “If you have a problem, take it out on me!” He was absolutely furious. I realized then that he hadn’t dragged me out here to apologize or explain. He was just terrified that his precious Scarlett would get hurt. Marcus’s chest heaved. It wasn’t until he noticed the pool of blood dripping down my hand that he paused. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and grabbed my shoulders. “Hathaway, just calm down and listen to me. It was an accident.” “We both got wasted at a bar that night. Scarlett was a virgin. How could I just walk away and not take responsibility for her?!” My heart felt like it was being sliced into pieces by a thousand knives. I had been with him since I was eighteen. He had face blindness, and he had mistaken other women for me countless times, but I had never blamed him. Even that one time we were held up by thugs, and Marcus rescued the wrong girl because of his condition, leaving me behind. I was stabbed and nearly died, leaving a permanent scar on my chest. Even then, I never blamed him. Because I believed he didn’t mean to do it. Eighteen years. For eighteen years, he couldn’t remember my face. Yet, it only took him three years to memorize Scarlett’s. When he decided to “take responsibility” for Scarlett, did he ever think of me, sitting at home keeping the dinner warm, waiting for him? Marcus looked at me, speaking with a straight face. “Don’t worry. I know the difference between having fun outside and loving you. As long as you don’t make a scene, you will always be Mrs. Marcus.” My body trembled as I stared at the man standing in front of me, dressed in his expensive suit. I couldn’t believe this shameless cheater was the same man who used to tear up whenever I got a tiny scratch. Suddenly, the phone in his pocket vibrated. I saw the caller ID on the screen: My Precious Scarlett. In all our years together, my contact name on his phone had only ever been my first and last name. Scarlett’s sobbing voice came through the speaker. “Marcus… our baby has a high fever. We need to take him to the ER. Please come home quickly…” Marcus’s face instantly filled with panic. He gave me a hurried, dismissive glance. “Alright, let’s just let this go. Take care of yourself, and I’ll come back to see you later.” With that, he turned on his heel and rushed out of the hospital without looking back once. Watching his retreating figure, all the strength drained from my body. I collapsed onto the cold floor, pulling my knees to my chest, and cried my eyes out. Until a pair of expensive, blood-red high heels appeared in front of my eyes. Scarlett stood there, holding a baby, looking down at me with pure disdain. “You’re Hathaway, right? We need to talk.” Sensing her hostile intentions, I secretly dialed Juliet’s number and kept the line open. “If anything goes wrong, call the cops immediately,” I texted her quickly.
Scarlett dragged me down to the cafe on the first floor of the hospital and got straight to the point. “Actually, Marcus and I got married eight years ago.” She smiled triumphantly, kissing the baby in her arms, and pushed two marriage certificates across the table. My eyes widened in disbelief as I flipped open the documents. The registration date on them was March 16th, eight years ago. While Marcus and I had “gotten married” in April of that same year. Marcus had lied to me. Not only had they been together for eight years, but my marriage certificate was a fake! Looking at my devastated state, Scarlett burst into a mocking laugh. “When you had that miscarriage, I was the one who lured Marcus away on purpose.” “And your grandmother? I was the one who made sure she was taken care of.” She chuckled, her smile becoming downright wicked. “That old woman was so useless. She got so scared that she drove her car straight into a semi-truck. You can’t blame me for that, can you?” She stood up, looking down at me. “So, you’re the actual homewrecker here. Your mother couldn’t hold onto her man, and her daughter is just as pathetic!” I glared at her, every cell in my body screaming for blood. My grandmother’s last phone call flashed through my mind. She had gasped for breath, telling me to take care of myself, apologizing that she was too weak to protect me. My sanity snapped. I lunged forward and grabbed Scarlett’s neck. “You bitch! Why did you do that?!” But the harder I choked her, the more excited Scarlett seemed to get. She grinned at me as the baby in her arms began to scream. The next second, a powerful kick slammed into my stomach. “You psycho! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” I was knocked backward, my forehead slamming against the sharp edge of the table. Warm blood gushed down my face. The pain was so intense I gasped, my face turning deathly pale. Marcus stood there, glaring at me with murderous rage. Scarlett sobbed, shrinking into his chest. “Marcus… I just wanted to beg Hathaway to give us a place to live. But she said I ruined her family and tried to kill me…” The fire in Marcus’s eyes burned even hotter. I tried to explain through the pain. “No… my grandmother… she killed—” “Enough!” Marcus roared, cutting me off. “You are evil, Hathaway! Scarlett is holding a baby! How dare you attack her?!” He picked Scarlett up in a bridal carry and turned to leave, giving me a cold, disgusted look. “Hathaway, I told you to behave, but you just wouldn’t listen.” “If I don’t teach you a lesson, you’ll never learn!” After they left, I dragged my numb body up, intending to go back to the ER to get my head stitched. But my phone suddenly went crazy, vibrating with endless calls and texts, many of them cursing me to die. Panicked, I opened my social media. The trending hashtag on Twitter made my heart stop. #Hathaway The Homewrecker Attempted Murder# Scarlett had posted a video on her TikTok account. In the video, she tearfully accused me of being a homewrecker who stole her husband and tried to kill her and her baby because Marcus wanted a divorce. The comment section was filled with venomous abuse, and some people had even leaked my mother’s phone number. My mother called me, her voice gasping for air. “Hathaway… how could you do something so shameful? Are you trying to kill me?!” My father had cheated on her, so my mother hated mistresses more than anything in the world. Over the phone, I could hear her having a panic attack. “Mom! No, listen to me—” Before I could finish, the people in the cafe suddenly surrounded me, shouting slurs and kicking me to the floor. Outside the glass window, Scarlett was cradling her baby in Marcus’s arms, watching the scene with a smug grin. Marcus looked away, seemingly unable to watch, and sent me one final text. “You made Scarlett angry. This is your punishment. Just bear with it, and once this blows over, we’ll go back to how we were.” But when he saw my face covered in blood, he finally made a move to come inside and stop them. Suddenly, a loud police siren wailed outside. A squad of police officers burst into the cafe. “Freeze! Nobody move!”
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