If I wanted the truth, I had to see his home for myself.
I didn’t dare go alone—afraid that in a fit of rage I might do something irreversible. So I called Daniel to come with me.
As dusk settled, we arrived at Jason’s place.
A frail figure trudged back from the fields, shoulders bent under the weight of labor.
The sun had tanned his skin dark, and sweat streaked his face.
When he saw us, he froze.
“Ethan, Daniel… what are you doing here?”
I stood there, staring at his small, timid frame. A wave of unspeakable sorrow churned inside me.
He didn’t look at all like the kind of man who could drive Sophia wild with passion.
But then I noticed something—hanging on the clothesline in the yard was a brand-new silk robe, far too expensive for such a shabby home.
The sight of it burned into my eyes.
I wanted to speak, but my throat tightened, and no words came.
Daniel followed my gaze, his face hardening. Just as he was about to confront Jason, I quickly held him back.
“Let’s go.”
Daniel looked unwilling, but I pulled him away.
On the way back, he held it in for as long as he could before finally blurting out, “Why didn’t you ask? You’re just going to let it go?”
My vision blurred, tears spilling freely.