She Was Hope, Then She Became My Greatest Regret

Her drunken eyes shimmered with pain.

“Why are you standing by the door?” she asked, voice soft and slightly slurred.

“It’s nothing,” I replied gently. “I brought you some hangover soup but ended up spilling it by accident.”

She frowned slightly. “You should’ve let the nanny handle that. You’ve been exhausted lately. Get some rest, or I’ll feel even worse.”

Then she leaned in and kissed me on the lips.

The gesture was as tender and familiar as always.

But I couldn’t feel her warmth anymore.

It’s true—one person really can give up everything for another.

I closed my eyes, and a tear slipped silently down my cheek.

Wordlessly, I helped her to bed and tucked her in. The alcohol worked fast—within minutes, she was fast asleep.

I sat by the bedside and quietly reached for her phone.

The passcode?

Karl’s birthday.

Of course.

Once entered, the screen unlocked—not to her usual apps, but to a hidden interface. The layout was clean. Only one folder sat on the screen: Album.

Inside was a chilling archive.

A thousand photos—each one related to the Crow Family murder case from five years ago.

Every image meticulously labeled.

And every single one pointed to Karl.

His motives. Forensics. Witness statements. Surveillance screenshots.

Even a blurry but unmistakable video of him standing outside the Crow Family villa that night.

Every detail preserved—vivid, damning, undeniable.

But at the end of the album, she labeled it: Unsolved Case.

Caroline hadn’t filed the evidence at the station. Afraid of raising suspicion among her colleagues, she brought it home instead.

Only this hidden archive remained—tucked away on her phone, seen by no one but her.

Her preference and protection were obvious.

And it broke my heart.

She used to be guided by principles, unwavering in her sense of justice.

That was the very reason I fell in love with her.

But I never imagined she’d abandon all of it—for Karl.

There was another album. A private one.

I tapped it open.

Every photo was of Karl.

His smiling face.

Thousands of candid shots—group pictures, selfies, public appearances—meticulously saved.

A five-year visual record of his life after marriage.

As the Baker Family’s second son-in-law, he had appeared at countless events.

Caroline saved them all.

And in every family photo, without fail—my face had been cut out.

The message couldn’t have been clearer.

I chuckled bitterly and stopped scrolling.

That night, I backed up everything from her phone onto mine.

Then, I booked a one-way ticket abroad—three days from now.

I submitted a request to cancel all my IDs and documents.

I didn’t sleep a wink.

At dawn, I got up to wash. Just as the cold water hit my face, my phone rang.

It was her.

"Victor?" Her voice held a trace of confusion. "Why did you cancel your documents?"

I quickly pulled the phone away and forced a calm tone.

"Ah, nothing. They were expiring. I just scheduled a renewal."

"You don’t have training today?" she asked softly. "Go on, get busy."

Then she wrapped her arms around me, her voice full of affection.

"Are you planning a surprise for me?"

I froze.

She giggled and reached up to tap my nose.

"I saw the new necklace you bought!"

"You’re always trying to hide things, but you forget—I can see right through you. You’re like glass to me, you know that?"

She leaned in again, her voice turning gentle.

"It’s almost your parents’ death anniversary. Let’s go burn paper together. Tell them the good news about our marriage, alright? We’ll hold a family dinner. Doreen hasn’t come home in so long."

I smiled faintly but said nothing.

She twirled in my arms, laughing.

For the past five years, she had been arranging these so-called reunions—telling me they were to help mend things between me and Doreen.

I used to believe it was love.

Now I know better.

It was all a cover.

An excuse to see Karl again.

This five-year deception—it ends now.

As soon as she stepped out, I left home.