Michael, carrying the limited-edition designer bag, excitedly pushed open the villa's door and was stunned. He even thought he had walked into the wrong place. After rubbing his eyes and repeatedly checking the villa's address, he confirmed it was indeed his home.
But overnight, it had turned into a wasteland-like garbage dump. He reflexively called out for my name, but in the empty villa, there was nothing but cold, shattered concrete.
He began to panic. Taking out his phone, he dialed my number. The repeated shutdown notifications made him realize that he was trembling. He then called several of his close friends one by one:
"Hey, did any of you tell Taylor about Sarah coming back?"
"No!"
"Did you block Taylor from seeing your social media posts?"
"Every time we have a gathering, we block her."
"So, has she tried to contact me?"
"Yes, often in the past, but not these past few days."
Michael's frown deepened. Just as he was about to curse, he spotted the diamond ring on the door frame.
It was the ring I refused to take off, even during our play. The one I said made me his wife. The ring he thought I would wear forever.