The fog lifted.


    Suddenly, everything became clear-clearer than it had ever been.


    Two hourster.


    Howard had been waiting outside the entire time, growing more anxious as the minutes ticked by and no one emerged. Just as he finally decided to push open the door, it swung inward from the other side.


    M staggered out, her face ashen and her eyes vacant, on the verge of copse. Howard rushed forward, catching her before she could fall.


    "Ms. Suthend? Ms. Suthend?"


    The sound of her name seemed to reach M through a haze. She tried to answer, but the world spun, darkness closing in, and she crumpled in his arms.


    "Ms. Suthend! Ms. Suthend!"


    Panic flickered across Howard''s face as he gathered her up and hurried outside. The doctorter said she''d fainted from sitting too long,bined with emotional shock. On the drive to the hospital, M regained consciousness halfway there.


    She insisted the driver turn the car around and head back to Bamboo Grove.


    "I''m fine just a little low blood sugar," she exined, managing a faint smile. "I just need to rest. No need for the hospital."


    After reassuring Forrest over the phone, M hesitated for a long moment before finally broaching what was really on her mind.


    "Forrest, could you... y the piano for me tonight?"


    There was a long silence on the other end, then Forrest''s gentle voice came through. "If you want to hear it, of course I''d y. But tonight might not be possible. Maybe another time, all right?"


    But M knew the truth. It wasn''t just tonight—not ever again.


    Her heart clenched as she remembered the photos: Forrest''s hands, fingers broken and covered in scars. She bit her lip, afraid her voice would betray her, and simply murmured an agreement before hastily hanging up.


    The car pulled up to Bamboo Grove.


    M retreated to her room, asking Howard to keep an eye on the child, and locked herself in the bathroom. She didn''te out until evening.


    By the time she reappeared, her face was calm again, betraying nothing.


    She said nothing about what had happened. She tucked the child into bed as usual, woke them gently when sleepwalking threatened in the night, and theny beside them until they both drifted off again.


    Everything was exactly as it had always been-unremarkable, routine.


    But the next day, M quietly asked Howard to remove all the security personnel from the vi grounds. Then, without a word to anyone, she crossed the street to Lillian''s Manor.


    She went alone.


    On the second floor, M pulled the cloth cover from a dressmaker''s mannequin and revealed a tailored ck suit-traditional, elegant, unmistakably masculine.


    She had designed and sewn it herself for Lysander, long ago.


    At one point, she''d thought about destroying the suit when their divorce proceedings began. But after three grueling months of work, she couldn''t bring herself to do it, and instead nned to give it away someday.


    Now, there was no need.


    She carried the mannequin downstairs, set it by the table, then gathered a few other keepsakes: a cheap wedding band abandoned in the bedroom, a small robotic toy Lysander had given her on their wedding night, and a stack of documents and photographs.


    Piece by piece, she arranged them on the table and sat down, staring at them in silence.


    This was all she had left from her marriage-so little it was almostughable, just like the marriage itself.


    It was nothing but a cruel joke.


    M let out a sudden, hollowugh. Shaking her head, she stood up, went to the kitchte, and fetched a kitchen knife, setting it carefully on the table. Then she sent a message to Lysander, including the address.


    "I''m here waiting for you. There are things I need to say. Come alone."


    It was time to end things with Lysander-once and for all.


    April 4th-Palm Sunday.


    The trees lining the street were bursting with new green buds, the world washed clean by a gentle spring rain that filled the air with the scent of fresh earth.


    Archie Fontaine was behind the wheel of a ck SUV, grumbling as he drove toward Crimson Gardens.


    The university was closed for the holiday, and Archie had nned to hit up the bar with his friends. Instead, his father had called and ordered him to visit his cousin, insisting he needed to "learn some life lessons."


    He''d only agreed because he thought he might finally catch his cousin, Lysander, in apromising situation-maybe snap a few scandalous photos. But when nothing interesting happened, Archie lost all motivation. Still, he was too afraid of his father''s wrath to skip out entirely. If his dad really flew in from overseas to drag him there, it''d be game over.


    So here he was.


    "Ugh. What a pain," he muttered, rolling his eyes.


    Just then, Archie spotted Lysander''s car speeding out of Crimson Gardens, his


    cousin''s face set in grim determination.


    Where was he rushing off to? Meeting a lover, maybe?


    Why else would he be driving himself, looking so urgent?


    Archie''s curiosity was piqued. He waited a minute, then tailed after him.


    The rain intensified as they drove. Archie watched Lysander''s car turn into a gated neighborhood called Bamboo Grove.


    Not wanting to get caught, Archie parked in a secluded spot, then dashed after him through the rain, camera at the ready.


    This time, he''d get undeniable proof of his cousin''s affair enough to shove in his parents'' faces and finally be rid of these ridiculous “life lessons” for good.