Chapter 1

Dexter Gardner and Laura Harrison had been married for seven years. Everyone knew Dexter loved Laura to the point of obsession.

That was until that fateful night. He drove through a raging storm in the dead of night to buy her favorite dessert—chocolate mousse cake from that downtown bakery. However, somewhere along the slick highway, the car spun out of control and slammed into the guardrail.

When he woke up, everything changed.

Dexter had developed dissociative identity disorder.

During the day, he was still the loving husband. He remembered every anniversary, brewed her chamomile tea when her cramps hit, and held her tight when she woke up screaming from her nightmares.

However, by night… he turned into someone else entirely.

That version of him was infatuated with Regina Bush, the new intern at his company. He adored her, spoiled her, and worshipped her.

Laura was devastated. She cried herself to sleep, tried therapy, hypnosis, and medications. She even visited churches, hoping faith might bring him back.

She believed, stubbornly and painfully, that if she loved him enough, he would come back.

It wasn't until after that day in the quiet hospital corridor. She overheard his closest friend, Robert Potter, ask in a low voice, "You've been faking the dissociative identity disorder for the past six months. How's that going?"

Laura's fingers had just brushed the door handle when that sentence hit her like a muffled explosion in her ears. Her entire body went rigid, and her fingertips began to tremble uncontrollably.

She thought, "His dissociative identity disorder… was fake?"

"It's not bad." Dexter's voice drifted out, casual and relaxed in a way she hadn't heard before. "Laura's completely bought it. Not a shred of suspicion."

Robert chuckled. "Dexter, you slept with Regina once and couldn't get her out of your head. So, you staged a car crash and made up a dissociative identity disorder? That's some next-level crap."

"What else could I do? The girl's incredible in bed. Any guy would fall for that."

Each word stabbed through Laura's chest like a blade—clean, precise, and lethal.

She bit down on her lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, but nothing could drown the agony rising in her chest.

It had all been a lie—the accident, the disorder, the love Dexter claimed would never fade.

Laura had truly believed he was sick, sitting by his hospital bed day and night, crying until her eyes burned, even humbling herself to beg doctors for a way to save him.

However, it had all been an act.

He wasn't broken. He was pretending—because he couldn't resist the body of a younger woman.

And for that, Dexter had lied to Laura without the slightest hesitation or remorse.

Robert asked, "So, how long are you going to keep this up? What if Laura figures it out?"

Dexter's tone was confident. "She won't. I'll drag it out for a few more months. Then, I'll wire Regina some money, send her overseas for grad school or something. Then, I'll 'recover' and tell Laura I'm back for good."

Robert let out a low whistle. "Dexter, you're something else. Every dude I know keeps their wife at home and fools around outside. But you—faking an entire disorder just for some side action?

"If it were me, I'd just fake it for life. Laura's gorgeous, no doubt. But come on. After seven years, even a goddess gets dull."

Dexter let out a low chuckle and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Yeah, I got tired of her. That's why I went looking for a little excitement on the side."

Everything Laura believed in came crashing down.

Her heart felt like it had been ripped from her chest and run over again and again. A thousand needles stabbed her lungs. Her knees buckled under the weight of it all, but she didn't fall. She couldn't.

She remembered that spring, when she was eighteen. Dexter had stood beneath the flowers on campus, cheeks flushed as he said, "Laura, I'll love you for the rest of my life."

Back then, his eyes had been bright and full of warmth. He used to tremble just holding her hand.

She remembered the night he proposed, down on one knee, saying that marrying her was the greatest blessing of his life.

She remembered their wedding night—how gently he held her, whispering that he would cherish her forever.

Now, at 28 years old, that same man said he was tired of her.

Laura felt like her soul was being torn apart, piece by piece.

If he had grown tired of her, he could have just said it.

Dexter could have been honest. But instead, he chose to deceive her with cruelty, tearing apart everything they had with deliberate, calculated malice.

She had always said the one thing she could never forgive was betrayal.

For the past six months, she had been a fool.

She cried her eyes out, begging every top specialist she could find to help him.

She had even dropped to her knees when his "alternate personality" appeared, pleading for him to come back to her.

It was all a carefully orchestrated lie—nothing more than a filthy scheme to sleep with another woman.

Laura couldn't hold it in any longer. Her legs gave out as she staggered toward the hallway, desperate to escape. However, just as she turned, she crashed into someone.

Regina wore a tight mini dress and flawless makeup. When she saw Laura, her red lips curled into a smirk. "Well, what a coincidence, Mrs. Gardner. Here to play the devoted wife again?"

Laura didn't respond. She stepped forward, trying to leave.

However, Regina deliberately stuck her foot out.

Laura stumbled hard, crashing to the ground. Her knees slammed against the cold tiles with a sickening crack.

"Oh no, how clumsy of you," Regina commented with mock surprise, but the malice in her voice couldn't be masked. "Guess that's what happens when you're past your prime. You can't even walk straight."

Laura slowly lifted her head, locking eyes with Regina.

Leaning down, Regina whispered in her ear, "Dexter said he's sick of you. He only wants me now. Do yourself a favor and leave, castoff."

Being called a "castoff" cut through Laura's chest like a knife, sharp and merciless.

For the past six months, she had endured Regina's jabs, Dexter's cold indifference, and every bit of humiliation this marriage had thrown at her.

Today, she was done staying silent, though.

The sound of the slap echoed through the corridor as Laura struck Regina's cheek.

Regina clutched her cheek, eyes wide in disbelief. "How dare you hit me?"

"You have a problem with that?" Laura's voice trembled, but her words were sharp and clear. "Do I need to wait for a special occasion to slap you?"

Regina's eyes welled with tears. She opened her mouth to scream, but the hospital room door suddenly swung open.

Dexter stepped out.

"Dexter!" She ran to him, throwing herself into his arms as tears spilled freely down her face. "Laura just hit me!"

Dexter looked past her, his eyes landing on Laura. Whatever warmth they once held had vanished.

"Why did you hit her?" he asked coldly.

Laura watched as Dexter shielded Regina with his entire body, and something inside her tore open.

"She tripped me and called me a castoff. I slapped her. Was that so wrong?" she answered, her voice hoarse with disbelief.

Dexter's lips parted slightly, his voice cold and sharp. "Apologize."

"I won't."

"Stop being dramatic, Laura. You dared to hit Regina, and now you're playing the victim," he commented.

Regina clung to his sleeve, tears falling effortlessly. "It hurts, Dexter. I won't feel better unless I get to return the favor."

Nodding, Dexter raised his hand.

Two bodyguards stepped forward, grabbing Laura by both arms before she could react.

"Dexter!" she screamed, struggling as her eyes burned with tears. "Have you lost your mind?"

Regina smiled as she raised her hand.

The sound of her slapping Laura echoed down the sterile hallway. Laura's face burned, blood trailing from the corner of her lips.

"Enough," Dexter finally instructed.

Regina pouted and held out her reddened hand. "My hand hurts now…"

He took her hand with sickening tenderness, pressing a kiss to her palm. "Don't use your own hands next time. What if you got hurt?"

Laura stood frozen, the world tilting around her. Her heart didn't just hurt—it had completely numbed.

He cared about Regina's hand, but not the blood on her face.

"Dexter…" Her voice came out as a rasp. "Did you forget the vows you made at our wedding?"

Dexter hesitated only a second before replying, his voice void of emotion. "Those promises came from the main personality, not me. I only love Rena. You don't matter."

Regina grinned smugly. "Dexter, I already booked a hotel. Last time, we ran out of protection too quickly. I brought plenty this time. I'll make sure you enjoy every second of it."

Dexter chuckled low. "Let's go."

The two walked away, wrapped around each other like lovers in a movie, their intimacy a humiliation.

Laura collapsed onto the floor, trembling.

…

After Robert ran over, he helped her up. "Laura, don't take it to heart. That's not the real Dexter. The real one still loves you. You just have to wait for him to come back.

"Yeah, you two practically grew up together. You've been in love for over a decade. He's just… not himself right now."

Laura wiped at the blood on her lip, tears falling silently. "I don't want to wait anymore."

They thought she was just venting, so they tried to comfort her again. "Don't do anything rash. Once he's cured, things will return to normal."

Laura said nothing else, after which they escorted her to a car and told the driver to take her home.

However, once they had driven far enough, Laura spoke softly. "Take me to a law firm."

…

30 minutes later, she was seated across from a lawyer, Colin Patton. "Hello, I need you to draft a divorce agreement," she said, her voice firm.

Colin hesitated. "Does Mr. Gardner know?"

Laura gave a faint, bitter tug at her lips. Her voice was calm but resolute. "He will—very soon."

Chapter 2

Laura didn't return home until noon the next day.

As soon as she pushed open the front door, she saw Dexter sitting on the living room couch. Then, he jumped to his feet and rushed over, embracing her.

"Laura, where have you been?" His voice was tight with panic, his hands clinging to her shoulders.

"You weren't answering texts and wouldn't answer my calls. I waited all morning—I almost called the police!"

Laura looked up at him. His brows were furrowed, his eyes full of worry. The concern in his gaze was so convincing, it made her question everything for a split second.

He could have won an Oscar for that performance.

Seeing that Laura remained silent, Dexter assumed she was still exasperated about the night before. He quickly pulled her to the couch, grabbed a cold compress, and pressed it to the swollen side of her face.

"Does it still hurt?" His voice softened, filled with remorse.

"I'm sorry. If I'd been in my primary state of mind, I never would've let Regina lay a hand on you."

He sighed, brushing her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "The other personality comes out at night. I can't control it. Just don't come looking for me at night, okay? Rest at home."

Laura's lips curved slightly, but there was no warmth in her expression. He wasn't worried about her getting hurt. He just didn't want her to interrupt his nights with Regina.

She assured quietly, "Don't worry. I won't come looking for you again."

Dexter visibly relaxed, thinking Laura had forgiven him. He reached out to help her to the bedroom, but pulled a folder from her purse and handed it to him. "Sign this."

"What is it?"

"Sale and purchase agreement," she lied, lowering her gaze to hide her expression. "I found a place that I like, but I just need your signature."

Dexter didn't even glance at the contents. He grabbed a pen and signed on the dotted line. He even chuckled and ruffled her hair. "You must be starving. I'll cook something for you."

He headed to the kitchen while Laura stared at the document in her hands—his signature on their divorce agreement. It caused her fingers to slightly tremble.

Seven years of marriage? It was gone—just like that.

He had signed the document without even reading, and now all she had to do was wait for the mandatory cooling period before she was a free woman.

…

Dexter made a table full of her favorite dishes. After eating them quietly, Laura went to bed without saying a word and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The sky outside was pitch black by the time she woke up.

The space beside was empty, but her phone lit up with a message from Regina.

"Mr. Gardner helped me take off my makeup and even dried my hair for me," she texted. "He said I look the hottest in black pantyhose. Too bad he tore them all to shreds."

The photo that followed showed Dexter's fingers tangled in Regina's hair, his eyes filled with tenderness.

It stabbed through Laura like a knife. She had bitten her lip so hard that the taste of blood filled her mouth.

…

Over the next few days, Dexter didn't return home. He only texted once, saying he was on a business trip.

Laura didn't call him out on the lie. She just quietly packed her bags, preparing to leave for good.

It was just past 3:00 am when she was jolted awake by someone shaking her. Groggy and disoriented, she blinked and found Dexter's face only inches from hers.

For a split second, she thought she was dreaming.

After all, ever since he had claimed to have "dissociative identity disorder" and that his nighttime personality only loved Regina, he hadn't come home at night—not once.

"Get up. Come with me," he urged, already pulling the blanket off her.

Laura finally registered that this wasn't a dream. Frowning, she sat up and asked, "What the hell are you doing?"

"To the hospital," Dexter answered simply, dragging her out of bed without giving her a chance to argue.

He grabbed her wrist and practically shoved her into the car. He drove recklessly, running at least a dozen red lights, until he skidded to a stop in front of a private hospital.

…

The red light above the operating room buzzed faintly, glowing ominously. Dexter yanked Laura toward a doctor standing outside the doors.

Shaking off his grip, she demanded, her heart pounding, "What is this? What the hell is going on?"

Her voice trembled. "Didn't you say your night personality only loves Regina? So, why are you dragging me here in the middle of the night?"

Dexter stayed silent, his jaw clenched.

The doctor stepped forward instead, explaining, "Ms. Bush is in critical condition from severe blood loss. She has a rare blood type, and we don't have any in the blood bank. Yours is a match—we need a donation."

Laura froze. Her mind struggled to process what she had just heard.

Then, she turned slowly to Dexter, her voice cracking with disbelief. "You woke me up at 3:00 am… just to give Regina blood?"

"She's dying," came Dexter's cold reply. "You're the only one who can save her. We need 1,000 ml."

"I'm not doing it." Laura turned on her heel. "I don't care what happens to her!"

He grabbed her wrist again, his voice desperate now. "Please, Laur."

The word slipped out instinctively. And at that moment, both of them froze.

Chapter 3

"What did you just call me?" Laura's voice trembled.

Laur was the nickname he used to call her all the time, back when they were still in love.

Dexter's expression shifted in an instant. He quickly dropped her wrist and stepped back, his tone turning cold again. "Stop wasting time. Regina doesn't have long."

At his signal, two nurses stepped forward and pinned Laura's arms down.

"Dexter!" she screamed, unable to break free, watching helplessly as the needle pierced her vein. "You bastard!"

As the crimson blood flowed through the tube, Laura's mind flashed back to three years ago. She had been the one in a critical condition after a car crash. Dexter had searched all over the country to find a matching blood donor.

Afterward, he guarded her the way a sacred item was protected, never letting her get hurt again.

Even Regina had been brought into the company under special circumstances. She barely met the qualifications, but her blood type matched Laura's. Dexter had hired her anyway—just to keep a backup donor on hand.

Back then, she had thought that was love.

However, he was now draining her blood for Regina.

"Ms. Bush needs more blood!" a doctor called out urgently.

"Keep going," Dexter instructed without any hesitation.

Laura had always been anemic. Her head was spinning, and she was losing her vision.

In the haze, she could still hear the nurses whispering. "I heard Ms. Bush had a ruptured ovarian cyst and lost a lot of blood…"

"Guess they've been having a little too much fun, huh?"

Laura let out a quiet, bitter laugh, the sound laced with exhaustion.

Tears spilled down her cheeks before she lost consciousness. However, just before she passed out, she heard Dexter's voice again, flat and emotionless. "Draw another 200 ml."

…

When Laura woke, the first thing she saw was the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room.

Dexter sat at her bedside. As soon as he noticed her eyes fluttering open, he leaned down, gently caressing her forehead.

"You're awake," he said softly. "Are you feeling okay? Do you still feel any pain?"

She stared at him, her gaze piercing through the tender mask he wore. "Is Regina out of danger?" she asked bluntly.

Dexter paused for a split second, something uneasy flickering in his eyes. "That's the other personality’s concern. I wouldn't know."

He reached for her hand again, brushing his thumb across her skin. "I just want to stay with you right now."

He was still pretending.

Laura pulled her hand back, not even having the strength to play along anymore. Turning to the side, she closed her eyes without a word.

…

Whether it was guilt or an attempt to keep up the act, Dexter stayed by her side for the next few days. He took care of everything—down to the point of feeding her chicken soup himself, covered her with a blanket when she slept, and even canceled business meetings to accompany her through the various medical examinations.

However, he disappeared again every night.

Laura followed him once or twice.

She stood outside Regina's hospital room, peering through the small window on the door. Inside, Dexter sat beside the bed and calmly peeled an apple. His hands were slow and deliberate as he fed Regina slice after slice.

"Laura must've been furious when she was forced to donate blood for me." Regina giggled, her tone light and teasing. "Did it take you long to calm her down?"

Dexter looked unbothered as he peeled another slice of apple. "She won't blame me. She understands—it's the dissociative identity disorder."

Smiling smugly, Regina wrapped her arms around his neck. "Good thing you came up with that excuse. We don't have to hide our relationship anymore."

She leaned in, her honeyed voice against his ear. "Promise me you'll never tell her the truth. I want to stay by your side forever."

Dexter didn't reply. He simply cut the apple into smaller pieces and gently fed them to her.

However, Regina was still persistent. Slowly undoing the top buttons of her hospital gown, she pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat. "I'll always satisfy you. Whatever you're into, I'll make sure you're never bored in bed."

Her hand slipped beneath his shirt, her fingers grazing his skin. "You can love her, but I'll sleep with you. Isn't that for the best?"

Still, Dexter said nothing.

However, a second later, his hand gripped the back of her head, and he kissed her hard.

The dynamics flipped in a flash. Pushing Regina down against the mattress, Dexter pressed his body into hers with unrestrained hunger.

…

Outside the room, Laura stood frozen.

It felt like someone had cracked open her chest and left it bleeding in the hallway.

She turned to leave, stumbling back blindly—only to crash into a nurse passing by.

The metal tray hit the ground with a sharp clang, shocking Dexter and Regina inside the room.

"Who's there?" Dexter's voice barked from inside, sharp and commanding.

…

The door flung open. He stood there, shirt half undone, breath unsteady.

The moment he saw Laura, his face paled. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Chapter 4

Wrapped in the blanket, Regina leaned into Dexter's chest, her voice soft and calculated. "Laura probably just walked by, saw us being close, and got upset."

She glanced at Laura, her eyes gleaming with provocation. "Dexter's in his nighttime personality now. The one that loves me. So, stop showing up at night begging for his attention—it's pathetic."

Dexter quickly caught on and tightened his arm around Regina's waist. His voice was cold. "You should go. Don't interrupt us again."

Laura stared at him, her eyes locked on the raw desire still lingering in his gaze. It was laughable.

"Don't worry. I won't ruin your moment," she replied, turning away.

"Wait!" Regina suddenly called after her as she was about to leave. She pouted, tugging Dexter's arm like a spoiled child. "Are we just letting her leave like that? Since she likes spying on us so much, let's show it to her. Let her see just how much you love me."

Dexter didn't hesitate to decline Regina's suggestion. He said flatly, "I only care about you. I don't want others to witness us doing something that private."

"Others?"

Laura's nails dug into her palm. That word hit her like a slap—sharp, humiliating, and final. She was his legal wife, yet he called that. It was as if she were nothing more than that.

"That's not enough," Regina whined. "She already saw everything. Shouldn't she be punished?"

Dexter sighed. "What do you want to do?"

"Lock her in the morgue." She sounded sweet, but her eyes gleamed with cruelty. "That is to keep her from sneaking around again."

Laura's head snapped up. She looked at Dexter in stunned disbelief.

Dexter stayed quiet for a moment. Then, he faintly waved over two bodyguards waiting by the door. "Take her to the resting room."

"The morgue," Regina corrected with a syrupy tone.

Glancing at her, he finally compromised.

Dexter glanced at her, then finally gave in with an indulgent compromise. "...Alright. The morgue."

…

The morgue was freezing.

Laura curled up in the corner, her body trembling uncontrollably. The air felt sharp, like it was slicing through her skin.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated.

It was a message from Regina.

It was a video of her and Dexter in bed.

The sheets were a mess, their bodies tangled together, and Dexter's low, breathless moans filled the room.

"I set the temperature to the lowest. Enjoy it, castoff."

Laura stared at the screen until her vision blurred. Her chest tightened with an ache so deep it felt beyond pain. It was more like numbness.

The cold seeped deeper, stealing her breath. Her mind drifted into a haze, and before long, she fell into unconscious dreams.

…

In her dream, it was the 17-year-old Dexter standing under a blooming cherry tree, looking at her with bright eyes. He promised, "Laur, I'll treat you well for the rest of my life."

Then, it was Dexter at 25 years old, down on one knee with a ring in his hand. "Laura, will you marry me?"

Then, he was 28 years old, holding her frail, feverish body through the night. His eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion as he murmured, "You can't leave me… You have to be okay."

However, in the blink of an eye, those memories twisted.

Dexter's arms were suddenly around Regina. His voice, once full of love, turned cold and mechanical. "Draw her blood."

And then—without a flicker of hesitation—he was the one ordering her to be locked in the morgue.

"Why…" she whispered in her sleep, the words breaking into soft sobs. "Why did you lie to me…"

Her body shivered uncontrollably as she drifted deeper into the dark.

Somewhere in the haze, a voice echoed—distant at first, then desperate, calling her name again and again.

"Laura!"

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Dexter's panicked face leaning over her.

"Laura!" He clutched her hand tightly, his voice shaky. "Did you just say… I lied to you?"

Chapter 5

Laura's heart skipped a beat, but she quickly steadied herself. "I must've been having a nightmare. I didn't know what I was saying," she said calmly.

Dexter stared at her for a moment. His tense expression softened as he reached out to feel her forehead. "Are you still feeling ill?"

Laura instinctively turned away, avoiding his hand.

His fingers froze mid-air. "What's wrong?"

"You smell like perfume. It's strong. I don't like it," she replied coldly.

Dexter looked momentarily confused. Lowering his head, he sniffed the collar of his shirt, his brow furrowing. "Must've rubbed off when the alternate personality… interacted with Regina."

He stood up. "I'm sorry. I'll wash it off right now and come back."

"No need."

"What?"

"I said, don't bother." Laura looked up at him, her eyes cold and unreadable.

However, Dexter misunderstood her. He stepped closer, his tone soft but firm. "I have to. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

He softened. "The version of me standing here only loves you. I don't want you to feel even the slightest discomfort."

Laura's lips curved into a bitter smile as her eyes dropped to his neck. "You can wash off her perfume. Can you wash off her bite marks, though?"

Dexter froze. Following Laura's gaze, he turned to look in the mirror. That was when he saw it—a red mark, bright and shameless, blooming on the side of his neck.

His expression darkened. "That wasn't me. That was him. I didn't… I couldn't stop him," he said quickly.

Reaching for her hand, he pleaded, "Laura, just give me a little more time. I swear I'll find a way to get rid of him. I'll come back to you completely—just me."

But Laura pulled her hand away in the silence. There was nothing else left to say.

She was done waiting, and there was no going back.

…

After Laura was discharged, perhaps sensing the heaviness in her heart, Dexter insisted on throwing her an extravagant birthday celebration.

"I don't want to go." Laura refused the invitation outright.

"That's not an option," he insisted, his voice firm. "You haven't smiled in so long. I want to give you something that makes you happy."

He personally chose her gown and jewelry. He brought in a top-tier glam team and dressed her like a star. Then, he drove her to the hotel himself.

Dexter stayed by her side the entire afternoon. He guided her with greeting the guests and unveiled one surprise after another—a massive garden of roses, a custom-built starlight projection above the ballroom, and a live performance by her favorite band.

Yet, Laura remained detached.

All these things—once enough to move her—now felt hollow, even ridiculous.

…

As the evening drew to a close and the guests started to leave, Regina arrived. She walked in wearing a crimson gown and high heels that clicked confidently across the marble floor.

Every pair of eyes in the room turned to her.

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"Why is she here?"

"She totally did this on purpose. Showing up now? She's clearly trying to ruin Laura's night."

"Mr. Gardner's shift to the alternate personality usually happens around this time… She's here to stake her claim."

Laura didn't want to get dragged into the drama. She turned on her heel, ready to leave, but Regina stepped in and grabbed her wrist.

"Happy birthday, Laura!" Regina beamed sweetly, holding out a perfectly wrapped gift box. "I picked this just for you."

Before Laura could respond, Regina was already gliding toward the grand piano in the corner. "I heard you like piano music. Let me play something special for you."

She sat down gracefully, fingers poised over the keys. Just as the clock struck 6:00 pm, her fingers brushed the first note…

"Ah!" Regina screamed.

She clutched her hand and doubled over. Tears welled in her eyes. "It hurts…"

Dexter rushed over immediately. "Rena! What happened?"

She turned her palm toward Dexter. A thin streak of blood glistened at her fingertip. "There were razor blades under the keys…"

Tears welled in Regina's eyes as she looked at Laura, voice trembling with hurt and confusion. "Laura, why would you put a blade in the piano? Were you trying to destroy my hand on purpose?"

Chapter 6

Laura stood frozen. "What did you just say?"

"You must have done something!" Regina sobbed, voice trembling. "Only you touched the piano during the tuning."

"It wasn't me," Laura commented coldly. "I never had the piano tuned, nor did anyone force you to play."

Regina clutched Dexter's sleeve, her eyes glistening with tears. "Dexter, are you just going to stand there and let her bully me like this?"

Dexter frowned. "It's Laura's birthday today. It's just a cut, so let's not make a scene."

"No!" Regina's voice suddenly rose, sharp and piercing. "You're in your alternate personality now! You said I'm the one you love most!"

She pointed at Laura, her voice sharp and venomous. "I want her to know what it feels like to have her hand sliced open."

Dexter hesitated, but after a brief silence, he gave in. "...Hold her down."

Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, grabbing Laura's arms and forcing her toward the piano.

"Dexter! Are you insane?" Laura struggled violently, her voice shaking with disbelief.

The blade inside the piano key shimmered under the lights as the guards forced her hand downward.

A searing pain shot through her entire body as Laura's fingertips were sliced open, skin torn and bleeding. Crimson streaks spilled across the black and white piano keys.

Dexter turned to Regina. "Are you satisfied now?"

Regina pouted, then shook her head. "Not even close."

She looked around with disdain. "I want this whole birthday party ruined! Watching you celebrate with another woman—do you know how jealous I was?"

He closed his eyes for a second. Then, without a word, he gave the signal.

The bodyguards moved instantly. The champagne tower crashed to the floor. Cake splattered across the carpet. The photos were torn, and the decorations were ripped down.

In minutes, the once-luxurious ballroom was reduced to a wreck.

Only then did Regina smile, linking her arm through Dexter's. "Let's go. I need to get my hand bandaged at the hospital."

Dexter paused just long enough to glance at Laura, but he said nothing. Then, he turned and walked out with Regina.

Laura stood there, her hands covered in blood, the pain burning through her nerves.

Around her, murmurs of pity and outrage grew louder. "Poor girl…"

"Mr. Gardner went too far."

"This isn't some dissociative identity disorder… He just fell for someone else…"

Laura stared at the wreckage of what was supposed to be her birthday party. Then, she let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

Of course, he had fallen out of love.

The vows Dexter had made at 17 years old, the promises he had whispered during sleepless nights when she was ill—none of them mattered now.

He had forgotten all of it.

…

Laura went to the hospital alone to treat her wounds.

The doctor frowned while bandaging her hand. "How did this happen?"

Laura felt a sharp stab in her chest, but she stayed calm. "I cut myself by accident."

…

When she got home, she began packing her things.

One by one, she pulled out Dexter's button-down shirts, the silk ties in the drawer, the little teddy bear he once gave her for Valentine's Day. Every piece of him she could find, she tossed into the trash.

Then, a voice came from behind her. "Laura? What are you doing?"

Dexter was standing at the door.

Laura didn't even glance back as she kept packing. "You don't live here anymore. These things are taking up space, so I'm throwing them out."

He strode toward her, grabbing her wrist. "I told you—I'll be cured one day. Just wait for me a little longer."

She pulled her hand free and turned to leave, but he called out toward the hallway. "Bring them in."

A group of bodyguards filed in, carrying box after box—one hundred in total. They stacked them from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Each box was delicately and pristinely wrapped with care.

Dexter said softly, "Laura, these are your birthday gifts. One for every year of your life."

He opened one of the boxes. Inside was a rare vinyl record—something she had casually mentioned wanting back when she was eighteen. Another box held an antique brooch she had once paused to admire in a magazine.

"Why did you prepare all this? Is it out of guilt?" she asked calmly.

Dexter froze. That wasn't the reaction he had expected.

"I know you've been through a lot lately…" he explained, reaching for her face. However, Laura flinched away before he could touch her.

"But none of it was your fault or mine. We were forced into this, weren't we? I want you to know, the person I love has always been you. The one I want to grow old with—it's always been you."

Laura stared at the man who once made her heart race, but now, she felt empty.

He was no longer the same man.

All those promises of forever—meant to last a lifetime—had long since disappeared, carried away like dust in the wind.