I Died in the Garden He Made for His Lover

William was already at the dining table eating breakfast when I walked back into the villa.

He looked up at me in the doorway, frowned slightly, rose, and came over to tuck my hair back from my face—proprietary, automatic, the way he'd done it for decades. "What happened? Where were you last night? You didn't answer your phone. I was worried about you, Junie." He cupped my face in both hands, gentle as ever, warm as ever. "Something going on? Need me to help? Hm? We don't keep secrets from each other, Junie."

But this face—the same face I'd looked at for all those years—now all it gave me was nausea. I tilted my head and pulled his hands off me.

The rejection displeased him, though he didn't let it show much.

"I missed my parents," I said. "I went to visit their graves."

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and murmured, "After all these years, still the same as before? Junie, when are you going to let yourself stop missing them?" His composure was flawless, as though last night's conversation had never happened.

Then he said, abruptly, "Oh, there's something I need to tell you."

I glanced at him, instantly on guard. "What?"

"You probably won't be able to go to the International Floral Expo. I had my secretary bring your checkup results to the doctor yesterday. Flying could put too much strain on your heart. I can't let you take that risk, Junie."

The words from last night crashed back. I cut him off, my voice sharp. "I know my own body. You know this has been my parents' dream and my dream for years! William!"

I'd already decided to leave. There was no point in tearing things apart, so I didn't want to bring up what I'd overheard.

"Junie, I don't want you gambling with your health. Just listen to me, okay? Growing those flowers—that's what you actually care about, isn't it? I know you. The recognition never mattered to you."

I forced myself steady. "I'm asking you one more time. Is this really about me, or is it something else? Tell me the truth, William." I had so little left—just this. Just hoping he'd give me one honest word. If he did, I would have ended it cleanly. If he wanted to be with whoever he actually loved, I would have let him go. A clean divorce, everyone's dignity kept. I'd already worked out every last piece of how to let him go gracefully.

He looked at me with perfect bewilderment. "Junie, what are you talking about? Of course it's for you. What could possibly matter more to me than you?"

Something inside me shattered.

Decades. That was how long it had taken to build.

I'd never been this tired in my life.

Why—why wasn't there even a flicker of guilt? Why could he say it that naturally? How could anyone do this?

And the ease of it made my own collapse feel laughable.

I steadied myself and said, "It doesn't matter. Even if something goes wrong, I'm going to that competition. You know me—for my parents' wish, there's nothing I won't do."

The truth was, the competition had stopped mattering to me a long time ago. What I wanted to know was how far he would go. How much he was willing to hurt me for that woman after all these decades together.

I wanted to see what his plan was.

Would he actually kill me?

We're wretched like that—just desperate to see the cruelest possible answer with our own eyes.

When I said those words, I caught a flash of venom in William's eyes. It vanished almost instantly, but not before it cut through me.

He smiled and patted my shoulder. "Let's not talk about anything unpleasant right now. Eat first. Your health is already fragile enough without you skipping meals."

"I'm not hungry. You go ahead. I'm going to stay at Hillside Estate for a few days."