The Storm Begins with a Whisper

Emma kept her head down, refusing to make eye contact. "Isn't Sandra moving in? I'm just cleaning up my things, so she doesn't get upset when she sees them."

Wesley grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms. "Are you still mad at me?"

She muttered, "No."

He remarked, "You're a terrible liar, Emma."

He tilted her chin up, making her look him in the eyes. "How many times do I have to say it? It was all an act. If I really wanted to marry her, I would have made it happen years ago."

Emma looked into his eyes and suddenly laughed. Her voice was soft, but her words were crystal clear. "You know exactly who you want to marry."

The sudden ring of a phone drowned out her words.

Wesley took one look at who was calling and picked it up right away. He quickly wrapped up the call and mentioned that something had come up at work before rushing off.

Watching him leave like that, she suddenly realized that confronting him didn't even matter anymore.

After all, some relationships were like expired candy. It looked fine on the surface, but it was rotten underneath. Trying to eat it would only leave a nasty aftertaste.

Wesley had just walked out when Emma's phone buzzed. She received a message from Sandra.

In the photo, Wesley was down on one knee, holding Sandra's ankle carefully in his hands as he focused on tying an anklet.

Emma suddenly remembered dragging Wesley to the metaphysical store in the past. She had crouched inside the store forever, trying to pick an anklet. When she turned around, she saw him standing a few steps back, checking his watch with an annoyed look.

He had said, "I can't believe you buy into these silly superstitions."

Just as Emma was lost in thought, Sandra's message came through. "All I did was mention I wasn't feeling well, and Wesley immediately went to the metaphysical store to get me the lucky anklet. Did he ever go out of his way like that for you? Wake up, Emma. He never loved you."

Emma clenched her phone. The screen's harsh glow lit up her face, illuminating her icy expression.

That was true. He never loved her, and she was done hoping he ever would.

…

Wesley didn't come home for the next two days. Emma didn't run into him again until Sandra's farewell gathering on the third day.

Dressed in a sharp black suit, he slowly pushed the wheelchair through the crowd. Sandra sat in it with a blanket over her legs, looking so fragile and delicate.

All Sandra did was tilt her chin up slightly, and Wesley immediately bent down to ask her what was wrong. Seeing this, Emma smirked in disdain.

He kept saying he was just putting on a show with Sandra. But the look in his eyes when he glanced her way was full of love, like he did four years ago.

Soon, the farewell gathering began. With tears in his eyes, Adam told everyone about Sandra's illness and said, "Sandra is unlucky, but she is also blessed. She doesn't have much time left, but she has a family who loves her deeply and a devoted partner who stays by her side."

The big screen lit up, showing a slideshow of photos of Sandra growing up.

On her first birthday, Adam and Jamie threw a grand birthday party for her.

When she was ten, Adam taught her how to play the piano, guiding her hands himself. At 18, her family was there at her graduation, beaming and holding each other.

In all the photos, Emma faded into the background, witnessing the happiness that was never hers.

The scene changed, and now the photos showed Wesley with Sandra. One captured him congratulating her with a bouquet after she took first place.

Another showed him sitting quietly as her model while she painted. In their wedding photos, they held each other tight.

They grew from kids in school uniforms to adults in formal attire, but the devotion in his eyes never faded.

Just as everyone was lost in the heartfelt moment, the photos on the screen suddenly vanished, switching to crimson text on a black background.

"Go to hell, Sandra! You took my man. Just like your mother, you're nothing but a husband-stealing whore. I hope you never rest. Even in death, you'll suffer forever in the darkest pits of hell."

The air in the room went dead. Then, the place erupted.