Her First Love Killed Me, but I Owe an Apology?

Joanne supported Steven all the way to a private residence.

Steven grabbed her arm and asked softly, "Jo, if Charles finds out you brought me here, he's going to be mad at you again."

Joanne's heart ached at how considerate Steven was toward her. Her voice trembled as she said, "Steven, I promised you I'd give us a home. I paid for this place myself. It has nothing to do with him.

"Besides, so what if he finds out? He doesn't even have the right to be angry. Even if we slept together in front of him, he wouldn't dare protest. The moment I mention getting a divorce, he would beg me for forgiveness!"

I never imagined that in front of Steven, Joanne would speak of me with such contempt.

Steven put on a look of relief. But the greed hidden in his gaze deepened as he looked at the house, and the smile on his face grew brighter. "That's good, then."

I looked at the house as well and felt a deep sense of desolation settle in my chest. I had scrimped on food and clothing, giving Joanne the best I could afford, taking on the mortgage payments alone.

Yet behind my back, she had bought a private residence outright.

She carefully helped Steven into the master bedroom and even offered to cook for him.

I had never seen her this attentive before. At home, she always waited for me to come back from work. No matter how exhausted I was, I still forced myself to cook for her.

On the rare occasions when I was sick, I had to beg her before she would step into the kitchen, and even then, all she made was a plate of overcooked instant pasta.

I used to think she simply didn't know how to cook. I never pushed her; instead, I kept making excuses for her.

Only now did I know that she had always known how to cook—she just never wanted to do it for me.

Joanne didn't find it troublesome at all as she set a table laden with dishes.

Whatever Steven wanted to eat, she immediately scooped up a spoonful and fed it to him.

She felt nothing wrong about it. In fact, she was secretly pleased.

After the meal, Joanne even offered to bathe him.

Steven put on an act again, saying, "Jo, you're Charles' wife. How could I let you bathe me?"

Joanne frowned at once. "If it weren't for circumstances forcing my hand, I wouldn't have married a piece of trash like him. Being around him every day makes me want to throw up. Steven, you know the one I love is you. Don't turn me down, okay?"

Steven responded with a soft hum.

Joanne couldn't hide her delight. Smiling, she led him into the bathroom, helped him undress, and bathed him.

I didn't follow them, but even without seeing it, I knew exactly what would happen inside. I had always been in the way before. Now that I was dead, they could finally be alone.

In the stillness of the night, desire had free rein. There was no better moment to betray me.

Sure enough, not long after, ambiguous sounds drifted out from inside.

I shut my eyes and wanted to hide on the balcony for some peace, but I couldn't move too far away from Joanne. I was forced to listen to those obscene sounds.

The pain in my chest dulled into numbness.

It wasn't until midnight that the two of them finally came out.

Steven looked clean and proper. If not for the flush on his face and the satisfied look in his eyes, no one would've guessed what he had done.

Joanne, on the other hand, looked disheveled. Her lips were swollen, she walked with difficulty, and there was a heavy, unmistakable scent about her.

I had never seen her like this.

If it were before, I would've been overwhelmed with excitement.

But now, thinking about what they had just done and how she had catered to Steven, I only felt sick.