Chapter 2: The Locket and the Lie

We went back to my tiny five-hundred-square-foot apartment. The place smelled like old takeout and laundry detergent. The walls were thin enough to hear the neighbors arguing two doors down. I’d always thought of it as cozy—now it just felt small. I dropped my bag on the floor and just stood there, numb.

Savannah was there, bundled up in a tight-fitting shirt to hide the marks on her body, her face still flushed. She was fussing with her hair in the mirror, humming softly. When she saw me come in, she immediately smiled and hugged me gently. It made my skin crawl.

"Honey, why didn’t you come home last night? I was waiting to celebrate our seventh anniversary."

Her arms wrapped around my waist, her voice sweet as honey. For a second, I almost believed her. Almost.

She pointed at the cake on the table. It was store-bought, the kind with too much frosting. The candles were already half-melted, leaning drunkenly to one side. The whole thing looked sad.

Truth is, we always called each other husband and wife, even though we weren’t married yet. It was a private joke, something we whispered to each other when no one else was around. Now it just sounded hollow.

I looked down at her kiss-swollen lips and suddenly spoke: "Where’s the locket? Give it back to me."

My voice was cold, flat. Just thinking about my mom’s only keepsake hanging around her neck made me sick.

Savannah froze for a moment, eyes darting away as she waved it off: "Of course I’m keeping your mom’s keepsake safe. I just didn’t bring it now."

She laughed nervously, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. I could see the lie in her eyes.

If I hadn’t caught her cheating outside the gates last night,

I probably would’ve hugged her, moved as always, then gone to the kitchen to make her a full homemade dinner,

blow on her soup so she wouldn’t burn her tongue,

pick out the fish bones for her.

The old routines flashed through my mind, each one a little knife. I used to love doing those things for her. Now I just felt empty.

But this time, I just looked at her coldly, waiting for her to confess on her own.

She avoided my gaze, fidgeting with the edge of her shirt. The silence stretched between us, heavy and uncomfortable.

"Remember Leonard Brooks? He asked me to show him a house last night, but then stood me up. I waited for him in the community all night."

A flicker of guilt flashed in Savannah’s eyes.

She cut a piece of cake and, on tiptoe, offered it to my mouth. Her smile was forced, too wide. The cake smelled sickly sweet. I didn’t move.

"Oh, maybe he was just busy, don’t take it to heart."

"Besides, that’s how it is in sales. You have to take some lumps to make money."

She was talking fast, words tumbling over each other. I could tell she was trying to distract me, to steer the conversation away from the truth.

"It’s all for our future home, honey, just bear with it. Maybe he didn’t mean it."

She took my phone and gently stroked my face, pretending to be concerned. Her touch felt wrong, like a stranger’s. I pulled away, my skin crawling.

"By the way, honey, did you see anything last night?"

Her eyes searched mine, desperate for reassurance. I shook my head, and the last bit of light in my eyes went out.

"Should I call him and reschedule?"

She was relentless, pressing her advantage. I clenched my fist, face darkening, and snatched my phone back.

Calling her lover right in front of me. What, is this some kind of game for them? Am I just part of their little play?

I’d loved Savannah so much, felt bad for her working hard, told her to rest at home.

Every day I’d go out selling houses, putting up with people’s attitudes, then come home to cook for her, rub her feet, massage her neck after a day of playing on her phone.

I’d given up all my family’s wealth just to be with her. Even in bed, I was afraid of hurting her, never daring to be rough.

And now, with her kiss-bruised lips, she still treats me like this?

I almost couldn’t hold it in. I was about to confront her and just blow everything up.

But then Savannah pointed at my phone, beaming:

"Honey, Mr. Brooks is coming over to discuss buying a house from you. I heard he’s super rich—even just a little bit from him would be enough for us to live well!"

Hearing that, my heart ached all over again. All these years of effort, and for what? It all went to the dogs. Not worth it.

She happily went to change into new clothes, grinning as she opened the door:

"Mr. Brooks is here! Come on in!"

Her voice was high and bright, like she was welcoming a celebrity into our home. I stood there, numb.

"Honey, go pour Mr. Brooks some water!"

She barked the order like I was the help. My hands shook as I stared at her, disbelief warring with anger.

I stood there, unmoving.

She secretly pinched my arm. Her nails dug into my skin, sharp and insistent. I didn’t flinch. Let her see how little I cared now.

"Go on, why are you just standing there like an idiot?"

I couldn’t help but laugh in anger. The sound was bitter, ugly. I felt something inside me snap.

Suddenly, I didn’t want Savannah to know the truth just yet.

Let her play her little games. Let her think she’s won.

The cups were on the tiny coffee table.

Leonard Brooks was a pot-bellied man in his forties. His critical gaze swept around my tiny apartment. He looked at the peeling paint, the mismatched furniture, the old TV set in the corner. I could see the disdain on his face, like he was slumming it for sport.

"Tyler, is this a slum? It’s way too small."

His voice was loud, echoing off the walls. He didn’t bother to hide his contempt.

Before I could reply, Savannah jumped in eagerly:

"Yeah, it’s tiny. Mr. Brooks, you’ve seen real mansions, of course you’d look down on the place my boyfriend rents."

She was all smiles, fawning over him like a butterfly, while I sat there stiff-faced, watching her flatter Leonard Brooks with every word.

Without realizing it, Savannah had already moved to sit right beside him, just a step away.

She scooted closer, her perfume filling the air. I felt sick, watching her cling to him like I was invisible.

"Tyler," Leonard Brooks said with a mocking smile, "I want to buy a house for my girl. Why don’t you show me something?"

As he spoke, he glanced at Savannah beside him, making her eyes light up with excitement. She couldn’t hide her glee as she looked at me.

So, he came here just to show off? Cheating behind my back wasn’t exciting enough—they had to rub it in my face?

I laughed to myself. The sound was sharp, hollow. I wondered if they even noticed.

"Sure, the mansion you asked me to show you last night—the crown jewel of the neighborhood. Perfect for your girl."

The mansion where they hooked up last night. My family’s mansion.

After I said that, I shot Savannah a cold look. She was too excited to notice, her face flushed, and she even shot me a look of approval, nearly grabbing Leonard Brooks’ arm to beg for it.

Seeing her like that, my heart just went numb, and a cold sneer followed.

That mansion’s worth ten million. If I remember right, Leonard Brooks’ total assets are only two million.

I did the math in my head, biting back a laugh. Let’s see him try to swing that.

After I spoke, Leonard Brooks looked smug, his gaze full of contempt.

"Alright, I’ll take it. For my girl."

He puffed out his chest, like he was making some grand gesture. I almost felt sorry for him.

I looked at him and said, "Then remember to bring proof of funds tomorrow."

Let’s see if he can actually pay.

Leonard Brooks didn’t care, puffing out his greasy belly and lighting a cigarette with his yellowed fingers, filling the tiny apartment with smoke.

He leaned back, blowing smoke rings toward the ceiling. The smell was acrid, clinging to the curtains and my clothes.

"I want my baby to live well, not in a dump like this. Her boyfriend can’t even buy her a bottle of perfume—what a loser."

Can’t even buy a bottle of perfume?

I glanced at Savannah’s vanity, covered with bottles of perfume in every color.

I thought, Each of those perfumes costs over two hundred bucks, and you’ve got a whole table full.

Savannah, after all these years, have I ever treated you badly? Why betray me? Was it really just for money?

I remembered the late-night trips to the mall, the way she’d drag me from store to store, her eyes lighting up at every new scent. I never said no. Not once.

Savannah’s eyes darted, surprised I’d bring this up. I’d never cared about her makeup or jewelry before, always handing over my entire paycheck for her to spend as she pleased. Now I just felt bitter.

"Really? Then what were you doing last night?"

A flicker of guilt crossed Savannah’s face, but she quickly put on a smile and snuggled into my arms. Her touch felt colder than before. I stared down at her, unmoved.

"A friend dragged me out. Why so serious?"

She tried to sound playful, but her voice shook. I could see the cracks in her facade.

I shook my head, looking at her, and suddenly felt that these seven years had just rotted away. The memories felt rotten, spoiled from the inside out. I wondered if any of it had ever been real.

"I’m tired. Didn’t sleep all night. I’m going to bed."

"Don’t forget to find my mom’s locket."

"Okay, get some rest. When you wake up, let’s go to the mall. Didn’t you say you wanted to play the arcade games there?"

Yeah, but that was a year ago. No wonder people say when your partner cheats, they try to make it up to you out of guilt. She was way too obvious.