When I returned home, it was already three in the morning.
The house was pitch dark, and Leon was still not back.
Another notification lit up my phone.
It was from Zandra—again.
This time, it was another photo.
The photo Zandra sent showed the “battle outfit” in shreds, barely recognizable.
In the corner of the image, her hand intertwined with Leon’s was clearly visible. On her finger was a ring identical to mine—the custom-made ring Leon gave me when he proposed.
I remembered that moment vividly.
He had knelt on one knee, holding the ring up with shining eyes.
“Sharina, will you marry me? This ring was custom-designed by the most renowned jeweler, just for you. It’s one of a kind, like my love for you.”
I had been so moved, tears spilling down my cheeks. I agreed without hesitation, giving up my cherished career in scientific research to stay with him. Eight years had passed since then.
But now, that "one of a kind" love no longer existed.
Pain tightened in my chest, and tears stung my eyes once more.
Moments later, Zandra had sent another message. [He was so wild earlier. I’m still sore all over! We even tried some new positions. Are you jealous?]