Let My Death Be the End of Our Story

Hunter followed Evelyn's gaze and when his eyes landed on the bright mark, his face turned pale with panic. “Goodness, that clumsy Holly. She did it again,” he stammered, forcing an awkward laugh. “I asked her to iron this shirt and somehow, she got lipstick on it. She should’ve told me if she accidentally stained it. Now, of course, you're misunderstanding this.”

Holly Ingram was Hunter’s personal assistant, a meticulous woman in her forties known for her impeccable professionalism. She had worked with Hunter for years, managing everything from his packed schedule to his wardrobe without a single complaint. Holly was always careful, almost to a fault and the idea that she would “carelessly” leave a lipstick stain was as unlikely as it was absurd.

Hunter’s rushed explanation might have worked on anyone else, but not on Evelyn. She wasn’t naive, nor was she unaware of the games Jennifer liked to play. The lipstick stain was no accident; it was a deliberate provocation and Evelyn knew it.

“It’s okay,” Evelyn said, her tone calm, her expression unreadable. “Just tell her to be more careful next time.”

Hearing her response, Hunter visibly relaxed, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

“Honey,” he said, a smile spreading across his face, “I want to take you somewhere.”

Evelyn glanced at him, noticing the excitement in his eyes. She wasn’t particularly in the mood for surprises and her fatigue from a lingering cold wasn’t helping. She opened her mouth to decline, but before she could say anything, Hunter scooped her into his arms.

“I know you’re not feeling great and probably don’t want to move,” he said, his tone light and playful. “Don’t worry. I’ll carry you. You won’t feel the slightest discomfort—I promise.”

Evelyn didn’t protest, though her heart was far from moved.

The car ride was quiet, with Hunter occasionally glancing at her as if gauging her mood. When they finally arrived, Hunter parked the car and gestured toward the grand theater standing majestically before them.

Evelyn’s brows furrowed. “Why are we here?”

Hunter’s smile widened. “You told me you wanted to see this play a while ago,” he said warmly. “I’ve been so busy that I never got the chance to take you. So here we are! And me keeping that promise.”

Evelyn stared at the theater’s glowing marquee. Yes, she had mentioned her love for this play and she had indeed asked him to join her. But instead of making time for her, he had brushed her off with excuses about work, only for her to later discover that his “work” had been a dinner date with Jennifer.

If she didn’t know the truth, she might’ve been touched by his sincerity tonight.

Inside the theater, the performance was breathtaking. Evelyn’s attention was fully captured by the actors on stage, their emotions raw and palpable.

Hunter, however, barely glanced at the play. His eyes were glued to Evelyn, his gaze soft and indulgent.

To anyone watching, they would’ve looked like the perfect couple.

But the illusion shattered when a familiar voice called out from behind them.

“Mr. Fairchild.”

Evelyn turned her head to see Jennifer standing just a few feet away, her figure wrapped in a sleek, daringly short dress that accentuated her curves. Her lips curled into a smug smile.

“I thought I might’ve been mistaken,” Jennifer said, her tone syrupy sweet. “But it really is you… and Mrs. Fairchild. I just want to say hi.” After a brief pause, Jennifer added, “Well, I should leave now. Don’t want interrupt your little date.”

With that, she sauntered off, her heels clicking against the polished floor, leaving a trail of her signature perfume in her wake.

Hunter stiffened beside Evelyn, his earlier ease vanishing. Moments later, his phone buzzed, the screen lighting up repeatedly. He glanced at it nervously, his leg bouncing slightly as his restlessness grew.

Leaning close to Evelyn, he whispered, “Honey, something came up with work. I need to step out and make a quick call.”

Evelyn gave him a small nod. “Go ahead.”

The moment she finished speaking, Hunter bolted from his seat, disappearing into the hallway.

Evelyn sat alone, her gaze fixed on the stage. After Jennifer appearance, the play had lost its charm. Then her phone buzzed, breaking her concentration. When she checked the screen, her heart sank.

It was a message from Jennifer.

Attached were screenshots of her conversation with Hunter:

[Jennifer: Mr. Fairchild, I wore this dress just for you. If you don’t come out, I might just have to find another man.]

[Hunter: Wait for me outside. You won’t be walking straight by morning.]

The words blurred in Evelyn’s vision as her grip tightened on the phone.

The Hunter she knew had always been reserved, considerate and self-controlled. Even in their most intimate moments, he had put her comfort above all else, making her believe his restraint was born of deep love and respect.

But seeing the way he lost all control for Jennifer, Evelyn realized how naive she had been.

After the play ended, Evelyn returned home alone. The house was quiet, the staff discreetly going about their tasks. Without hesitation, she instructed the housekeeper to remove all the wedding photos from the master bedroom.

The housekeeper was startled with the request.

“Madam, why would you want to get rid of such beautiful pictures?”

“I don’t like them anymore,” Evelyn replied coldly.

Her tone left no room for argument. The staff quickly got to work, removing the photos one by one.

Midway through the task, the front door burst open.

Hunter stormed in, his tie loose, his hair slightly disheveled—a rare sight for the usually immaculate man. His eyes darted around the room until they landed on Evelyn.

“Where are our wedding photos? Why are they gone?” he demanded, his voice trembling with panic.

Evelyn stood there silently, her gaze steady as she watched the man she had once believed she knew.