Beyond the Frozen Vows

My daughter was diagnosed with leukemia. To get my husband to match for her bone marrow transplant, I agreed to sign over my entire equity stake to him. Yet the moment he got the money, he turned around and gave it to his first love, Vivienne, as a grand gift. On the day of my daughter's funeral, debt collectors swarmed the funeral home, blocking every exit. At my lowest, most desperate moment, my childhood friend Ethan appeared. He paid off all my debts and proposed to me in front of everyone. I thought my misery had finally come to an end. Until today. While getting a birthday gift ready for him, I dug up an old voice recorder from the bottom of a storage box. "That bone marrow match... you tampered with it, didn't you?" Ethan's voice was chillingly calm. "What if I did?" "Vivienne's kid... his condition wasn't even that critical! Do you have any idea that Lemon's daughter could have—" "Critical or not doesn't matter," he interrupted softly. "Vivienne was crying her eyes out. How could I not help her?" After a brief silence, I heard the man who once swore to protect me for the rest of my life let out a quiet chuckle. "As for Lemon's daughter... she wouldn't have lived long anyway." I froze where I stood, feeling ice flood my veins. I hit the play button again, my fingertips freezing cold. The voice on the other end sighed, thick with guilt. "Lemon's daughter could have survived..." "Enough." Ethan's voice cut him off. It was the voice I had listened to for seven years, yet right now it sounded completely alien, muffled beneath a thick layer of frost. "Don't bring this up again. I'll compensate her." "Compensate? By giving her a baby?" A long stretch of silence followed. His voice turned low and raspy, yet it sliced through my flesh like a dull knife. "I will never let her carry my child." "Still, I'll take care of her," he scoffed. "She's like a stray cat. Giving her a warm meal is enough." The recording snapped off. So that was the truth. All this time, I thought something was wrong with my body. I had drunk endless supplements and endured round after round of IVF. The egg-retrieval needles had made me tremble in agony. Yet I had endured it all, thinking I just needed to give him a child of his own. Just this afternoon, when I picked up the ultrasound report from the OB-GYN, the sheer joy in my chest had almost burst out— Only for it to turn out to be a cruel joke. My phone began buzzing right then. "Lemon." His voice carried that familiar, intoxicating gentleness. "Something came up at the last minute. Don't wait up for me, okay?" "Are you still at the office?" I asked, my voice flat and distant, sounding like a stranger's even to myself. "Yeah, working overtime." He chuckled softly. In the background, I could faintly hear a woman's sweet, breathy voice humming a birthday song. "Be good. Go to sleep early." Just as he went to hang up, that same voice came through crystal clear: "Ethan, my foot hurts so bad, can you take a look for me..." The call abruptly disconnected. I stood in the dining room, staring at the cold dishes on the table—everything he loved to eat. Suddenly, I wanted to laugh. Seven years. Every time an important date came around, an emergency suddenly pulled him away. Now, finally, I saw it clearly. He was simply spending those nights with someone else. I ripped the ultrasound report into pieces. That faint little dot on the scan fluttered into the trash can alongside the shredded paper. The phone buzzed once more. A text popped up from Ethan: Go to sleep first, sweetie. Love you. I stared at those words, but my mind drifted back to the pale, fragile smile on my daughter's face near the end. "Mommy, I'm going to get better, right?" Three days later, Ethan had stood before me with bloodshot eyes, saying, "Lemon, I'm so sorry. I did everything I could." When I collapsed onto the floor, he pulled me tight into his arms, repeating over and over, "Let me take care of you from now on. Let me love you in her place." A year later, he married me. At the wedding, everyone whispered how lucky I was. Yeah, so lucky. Lucky enough to have been secretly fed birth control pills by him for seven years. Lucky enough to drown in agonizing self-blame day after day. Lucky enough that, when I finally got pregnant, he was in bed with another woman. Lying on this mattress I had shared with him for seven years, I deleted that last text message. Dawn was breaking outside. It was time to wake up from this nightmare.At seven in the morning, Ethan walked through the front door, bringing in a rush of cold air along with a sickeningly sweet perfume that didn't belong to him. "Meetings ran until the crack of dawn." Bloodshot veins lined his eyes as he reached out to pull me into his arms, his tone soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry I left my Lemon alone all night." I stepped aside, dodging his touch. His fingers froze in midair, a flash of surprise crossing his face. Yet almost instantly, that surprise melted into overwhelming affection. "Still mad at me?" He ruffled my hair and turned toward the kitchen. "I'll make you some breakfast." My phone screen lit up repeatedly. Vivienne had posted a new update on Instagram. In the photo, the diamond ring on her ring finger flashed blindingly bright. Her story refreshed right after. A grid of photos, the last one showing a thoroughly wrecked hotel bed, with scraps of black lace lingerie scattered across the sheets. The comment section was buzzing. "Whoa! That looks intense!" "Vivi, aren't you worried Ethan's wife might find out?" "I blocked her ages ago." "Even if she sees it, so what? A woman who couldn't even keep her daughter alive and can't bear him a kid—how is she supposed to hold onto a man?" "Exactly. Ethan's gonna kick her to the curb sooner or later. He's just pitying her right now." My fingertips turned numb, blood rushing loudly in my ears. I lifted my head. Ethan was carrying a steaming bowl of seafood chowder from the kitchen, his eyes full of warmth as he looked at me. "Your favorite. I made sure to toss in extra shrimp and scallops." He scooped up a spoonful, blew on it gently, and held it to my lips. Through the rising steam, several brownish mushroom slices floated clearly on top. I was deathly allergic to mushrooms. Once, a single accidental bite had sent me straight to the ICU. Back then, he had stayed up all night outside the emergency room, his eyes swollen and red, clutching my hand while trembling uncontrollably: Lemon, you can't leave me. You have to make it. "I'll eat it myself." I took the bowl from him, my fingers shaking slightly. He picked up his phone, typing away at lightning speed, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his lips. The scorching ceramic burned my palms, but it was nothing compared to the bone-chilling frost creeping over my heart. I lowered my head. Fat tears fell into the soup, mixing with the broth as I forced down every spoonful, mushrooms and all. The bowl finally emptied, leaving only a few mushroom remnants resting against the bottom. Ethan looked up just in time. His gaze casually swept over the empty bowl, and he suddenly stiffened, all the color draining from his face. "Lemon, I—" he stammered, scrambling to explain. I dabbed my mouth with a napkin, cut him off, and stood up. "I'm going to wash my face." The bathroom door clicked shut behind me. I cranked on the tap, splashing freezing water against my cheeks to numb the burning, itchy rash flaring under my skin, but nothing could stop the flood of hot tears. The woman in the mirror was covered in angry red hives, her eyes puffy and bloodshot, looking utterly pathetic. Just as I gripped the edges of the sink, my shoulders shaking violently, the door flew open. Ethan burst in, breathless and frantic. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his hot breath brushing against my neck, his voice trembling with remorse. "I'm sorry, Lemon. I've been so overwhelmed with work lately that it slipped my mind... Please forgive me, okay? Once this busy stretch is over, I promise I'll make it up to you..." Before he could finish, his phone went off. A custom ringtone—bouncy, playful, and sweet. His entire frame went rigid. I lifted my dripping face, catching the reflection of his screen in the mirror. Two words flashed across it: Vivi. He slammed the power button as if he had touched live wire. "It's... just the company's vice president," he said, turning around to pull me close again, forcing a steady tone. "A crisis on a project." I didn't call him out. I simply stared at him through the mirror in silence. He reflexively dodged my eyes, leaning down to press a guilty, placating kiss to my cheek. "Be good, okay? Something came up at work, so I have to go deal with it." He paused, softening his voice even more. "I'll come home early tonight. Just the two of us." His footsteps faded down the hall. A second later, a violent wave of nausea tore through my stomach. I threw myself over the sink, dry-heaving until tears streamed down my face, practically turning my insides out. I splashed more cold water onto my face. The woman in the mirror looked as pale as a corpse, her eyes dead and hollow. After drying my hands, I pulled a dusty old burner phone from the bottom of my drawer. "Professor, I want to take that spot in your lab abroad. As soon as possible." After ending the call, I dialed a second number. "Julian, I need you to draft a divorce settlement for me. And while you're at it, look into something else—" I paused for a second, my voice barely above a whisper. "Find out what really happened with the bone marrow match for my daughter back then."Ethan didn't come home that night either. He only sent a short text late into the night: Project is a mess, pulling an all-nighter. Don't wait up, get some rest. I stared at the screen until the backlight died, leaving only the reflection of my emotionless face. Better this way. I started packing my belongings. In this place we called "home," there were barely any traces of me left. I gathered every gift I had given him over the years and piled them up in a remote corner of the backyard. When the flames caught, the fire crackled violently. The heat scorched my skin, yet a deep, biting chill seemed to seep out from the marrow of my bones. Two days later, he returned, smelling of a woman's perfume that wasn't mine. "Lemon, come with me to a charity gala tonight." He wrapped an arm around my waist, his fingertips brushing my cheek. "It's been a long time since I got you a proper gift. Whatever catches your eye tonight, I'll win it for you." His eyes darted around, shining with an almost desperate eagerness to please. I nodded. "Okay." The banquet hall was dripping in gold and crystal. Suddenly, the spotlights flared— "Please welcome our charity ambassador for the evening, Miss Vivienne Vance!" She glided into the hall on the arm of a prominent business mogul, a blinding diamond necklace glittering around her throat. I recognized that piece. It had been the crown jewel of last month's spring auction. Ethan had told me he was outbid at the last second. Ethan's wine glass wavered slightly in his hand. He glanced sideways at me, speaking in a hurried rush: "The brand loaned her that piece. Don't read into it." I said nothing. He took my hand, his thumb rubbing over the bare skin at the base of my ring finger, his motion faltering for a beat. "Tonight," he added under his breath, "I'll get you something far better." The final item went up on the auction block. Resting quietly on a velvet tray was a sapphire necklace. In an instant, the blood in my veins turned to ice. It was the only heirloom my late mother had left behind. After our family fell on hard times, it had been sold off and lost, and I had spent the past eight years searching for it. Ethan knew everything about it. He had spent weekends hunting through antique markets by my side, listening to me talk about how much it meant to me. "This is 'The Ocean's Tear,' with an opening bid of five million!" Sitting in the front row, Vivienne glanced back, flashed Ethan a radiant smile, and raised her paddle. Ethan immediately matched her bid. The price skyrocketed, the entire room's attention bouncing between the two of them, filled with knowing amusement. Finally, the gavel struck down. "Sold to Mr. Ethan Miller for twenty million! A magnificent new owner for a stunning piece!" Thunderous applause broke out. Vivienne stood up, shook his hand, and gracefully walked away. Ethan returned to my side and draped an arm over my shoulder. "We got it," he murmured, his voice laced with gentle relief. "Your mother's necklace is finally coming home." I stared at him. The glare of the crystal chandeliers danced in his eyes, so bright that for a split second, I almost believed him. I almost believed he bought it for me. "I'm going to the restroom," I said quietly. Rounding the corner of the corridor, near the emergency exit, I stopped dead in my tracks. In the dim shadows of the stairwell, Ethan stood with his back to me. Vivienne stood before him, tilting her chin up. That very sapphire necklace was already clasped around her neck. "Is it really mine?" Vivienne purred, her voice dripping with playful sweetness. "Aren't you worried your little wife at home might..." "It was meant for you all along," Ethan cut in, his tone coaxing. "She doesn't deserve something this exquisite." "Then why were you holding her like that just now..." "Just keeping up appearances." He chuckled softly, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. "Be good. Keep it on." Vivienne stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He let her, his hand resting casually against her hip. I stood in the shadows, watching the necklace I had searched eight years for resting right below her collarbone. It was as deep as the ocean, and just as freezing cold.I turned and walked out toward the open-air balcony, the night breeze cutting through my skin. I lost track of how long I stood there, waiting until the raging ache in my chest went completely numb. When I finally walked back, I bumped into Vivienne near the corner, freshly touched up. "Mrs. Miller," she cooed, fingering the sapphire pendant with a sly smile. "What a coincidence." "This necklace... seemed like something you really wanted, didn't it?" She stepped closer, her grin dripping with malice. "Too bad Ethan said... you're not worthy of it." "Take it off," my voice shook violently. She laughed, as if hearing the funniest joke in the world. "Why should I? Ethan gave this to me as a token of his love." "That belongs to my mother." Every word felt like it was being dragged through crushed glass. "So what?" Her red lips curved into a venomous smile. "Your daughter was unlucky and died. This little trinket from your dead mother only has value now that it's around my neck." She took half a step forward, dropping her voice to a harsh, private hiss that pierced straight into my ears: "Lemon, you couldn't keep your daughter alive, you couldn't hold onto your man, and you couldn't even protect a piece of your mother's junk." "From start to finish, you're just a loser who loses everything." The grief and sheer rage snapped the last tether of my sanity, sending every drop of blood straight to my head. Right then, Ethan's hurried footsteps echoed from the end of the hall. The venom on Vivienne's face vanished instantly, replaced by sheer panic and fragile vulnerability. With a sharp gasp, she stumbled backward and slammed hard against the marble floor. "Vivi!" Ethan rushed forward, the raw panic and distress in his voice practically spilling over. Without even glancing in my direction, he shoved me violently aside. "What the hell are you doing?!" Caught completely off guard, I stumbled backward, my head slamming into a stone pillar. A burst of white light exploded behind my eyes. He dropped to his knees, gently helping her up. "Where are you hurt? Does it hurt bad?" Vivienne nestled into his chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Ethan, my ankle... I don't know why she shoved me like that..." Only then did Ethan look up at me. The moment he saw the trickle of blood running down my temple, his pupils constricted violently. "Lemon, you..." Before he could finish, several photographers came bursting around the corner with cameras raised. "Mr. Miller, what happened here?!" "Mrs. Miller, did you attack Miss Vance out of jealousy?!" Vivienne cowered deeper into Ethan's arms, sobbing harder. "Don't blame Lemon... it's my fault. I shouldn't have worn this necklace..." Ethan wrapped an arm tightly around her, glaring at me. His gaze flickered with anger and hesitation. Before finally hardening into absolute, icy cruelty. "Lemon," he said, each word ruthlessly slicing away the very last shred of hope in my heart, "apologize to Vivienne." I stared at the man I had loved for seven whole years. And suddenly, a laugh broke from my throat. "Ethan," I whispered, keeping my voice low so only the two of us could hear, "on your birthday... were you really in a meeting?" His face went stark white in an instant. "The bone marrow match... was it really intercepted by someone else?" I locked eyes with him. "Or did you hand it over to her with your own two hands?" "Lemon!" He snapped, his voice spiking as if I had stomped on an open nerve. "It's just a necklace! Haven't you caused enough of a scene?!" More reporters swarmed in, microphones and lenses practically shoved into my face. "Mrs. Miller, please give us a statement!" "Have you harbored hostility toward Miss Vance for a long time?" Shouts, shoves, and shutter clicks dissolved into a dizzying roar. Trapped in the center of the crowd, I was like a battered boat on the verge of capsizing. In the chaos, someone shoved me hard from behind. I fell forward, my lower abdomen slamming violently against the sharp edge of a display pedestal. A wave of warm liquid rushed down the inside of my thighs. The light before my eyes warped, fading fast. Before the darkness swallowed me whole, the last thing I saw... Was Ethan's face, twisted in sheer panic and shock. ... When I woke up, the sharp scent of antiseptic burned my nose. The doctor stood beside the bed, his expression filled with sympathy. "Ma'am, you've had a miscarriage. You were eight weeks along. There was already a heartbeat." I rested a trembling hand over my flat stomach. There had been a tiny life growing inside me. A miracle I had endured bitter medicine, endless injections, and excruciating egg retrievals to finally hold. Over the past two weeks, I had even started quietly browsing baby clothes online, picturing the exact words I would use to tell him. Ethan, we're going to be parents. Now, there was only an eerie, deafening void. My phone buzzed on the bedside table, a news alert popping up on the screen: Charity Gala Drama! Miller Group CEO Caught in Passionate Midnight Kiss with Vivienne Vance! Are Wedding Bells Looming? In the photo, his arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, lost in a deep kiss. The backdrop was a disheveled hotel bed, the balcony curtains wide open. The sapphire necklace glittered around her neck, gleaming like a cruel mockery of every ounce of devotion I had ever poured into him. I slowly sat up, my fingers cold yet remarkably steady. I opened my email. Sitting in the drafts was an already signed divorce petition. Attached to it was an airtight paper trail documenting how my daughter's donor match had been diverted all those years ago. Dates, locations, medical staff names, and Ethan's personal signature. Recipient: Ethan Miller. When the airport intercom announced boarding, I took one last look at the city skyline. My phone buzzed with a final text from Ethan: Lemon, pick up! We need to talk! I know I messed up! I stared down at the words. I remembered years ago, when he forgot our anniversary and I cried, he had panicked and apologized just like this. Back then, my heart softened immediately, truly believing he cared. A faint smile touched my lips, and before I knew it, warm tears rolled quietly down my cheeks. As the final boarding call echoed through the terminal, I powered off the phone, popped out the SIM card, and dropped it into a nearby trash bin. The flight took off.