Bradley Lawrence tightened his grip on my wrist, his knuckles turning white, as if I were the last lifeline he had left.

"Honey, I'm begging you."

His voice was raw, unrecognizable. "I know I messed up. It was just a moment of madness—you’re the only one I’ve ever truly loved!"

I paused, cutting him off.

"Enough."

I pulled up that voice memo and cranked the volume to the max, holding the phone to his ear.

*"She’s not the other woman. She’s the person I love most."*

Bradley turned ashen. He ripped off his apron, the high-priced attorney now kneeling at my feet in his tailored suit, looking utterly pathetic.

"Honey, I can explain. That was just..."

"Just what?" I interrupted, my patience wearing thin. "Just holding her while you kissed? Just rubbing your hands all over her legs? Just declaring to the world that she’s the person you love most?"

"If she’s not the other woman, then what does that make me?"

He opened his mouth, his eyes bloodshot, and finally, the tears spilled over. The same Bradley Lawrence who never bowed his head for anyone, the man who would have jumped off a building without a second thought, was now kneeling before me, sobbing.

"Hit me. Curse me out," he said, letting go of my wrist to cup my face with both hands. "Do anything you want, just don’t leave. Honey, I can’t live without you."

I let him hold me, a hollow, frozen feeling spreading through my chest. I looked into his weeping eyes, watched his trembling lips, and saw every inch of the man I used to adore.

Then, I shoved him away with everything I had.

"Let go, Bradley. You’re just not used to living without me."

He froze, tears still hanging on his cheeks, his hands hovering in mid-air.

My mother stood to the side, wiping her eyes. "Madeline, maybe you should give him one more chance? You loved him so much, you were ready to risk your life for him. Can’t you find it in your heart to forgive him just this once?"

I turned to her. "Mom, do you know what my biggest regret is in this life?"

She blinked, stunned. I offered a bitter smile.

"It’s that when I first found out he was cheating, I didn't walk away immediately."

I pulled the door open. Bradley scrambled to follow me, but stopped short of the threshold.

"Honey!"

This time, I didn't look back.

"Don’t bother fixing that watch. Just let it rot."

When I reached the ground floor, a heavy coat was draped over my shoulders. Bradley stood there, gasping for air, his eyes still rimmed with red.

"Put it on. It’s cold out."

The coat was warm, but it was suffocatingly saturated with the scent of Lacey Rose’s perfume. I ripped it off and shoved it back into his arms.

"No. It’s filthy."

"Fine."

Bradley suddenly turned and bolted toward the riverbank. "Then I’ll wash it off! I’ll scrub myself clean!"

The river ahead was a jagged mess of slush. It was 14 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and a thin, treacherous layer of ice had formed over the water. He glanced back at me, a desperate, pathetic spark of hope in his eyes.

He was waiting for me to call him back.

I said nothing.

He gritted his teeth, kicked off his shoes, and stepped into the water. The thin ice shattered instantly, shards of frozen slush biting into his ankles, his shins, his knees. He shivered violently, his lips turning a bruised shade of purple, but he pushed forward, constantly looking back to see if I was watching.

I stood on the bank, unmoved.

His teeth chattered, his voice a broken, rhythmic trembling. "Honey, I’m clean now. Smell me... the scent is gone..."

The water climbed to his waist. He was shaking so hard he could barely stand, his face as pale as parchment, his lips a dark, sickly blue, but his eyes were still locked onto mine, red and pleading.

I watched him. I watched him plunge into the freezing river for my sake, watched him risk his life to prove his love.

But all I could see in my head were the other images.

Him holding Lacey, kissing her, his hands kneading her waist.

*“She’s the person I love most.”*

That Patek Philippe watch sliding against her leg.

In the end, amidst all the chaos and the betrayal, I was the one crying, screaming his name, while he sat there feeding her cake.

I turned to leave.

Behind me, there was a splash—he had scrambled back onto the bank, stumbling as he chased after me, grabbing my sleeve.

"Honey, don't go!"

He was drenched, water streaming from his hair, his lips blue, snot dripping from his nose, too desperate to even wipe it away. He looked up at me, so wretched, so pitiful.

How miserable. It was so pathetic that if I still had a shred of love left, my heart would have shattered.

"Bradley Lawrence."

He looked up, his eyes filled with a desperate, feverish hope.

"Even if you freeze to death in that river, I won't feel a thing."