My deep affection binds me like a long night

Emily returned to the apartment they had once shared.

The landlord still recognized her, greeting her warmly. "Emily! No boyfriend with you this time?"

Her mind was a jumble. "He's planning a wedding," she murmured. "Getting married soon."

"I knew you two would make it down the aisle! The whole building's been waiting to celebrate," the landlord said, her face lighting up with a mix of envy and genuine delight. "I've kept the place for you. That cherry tree he planted has been bearing fruit for years now. The blossoms every spring—just beautiful."

The words settled like shards of glass in Emily's chest, a sharp, diffuse ache. She offered a vague reply and fumbled with the key.

Inside, everything remained exactly as they'd left it. On the shelf, a framed photo caught the light: she was beaming at the camera, while Jerry, in his military uniform, held her close, his chin resting on her shoulder as he gazed at her with utter devotion.

Memories flooded in, unstoppable.

The rose-patterned blanket he’d painstakingly crocheted for her—a burst of color that felt like holding a whole bouquet.

Her birthday at the pottery studio. He’d made an adorably lopsided rabbit mug, grinning as he said, "Now you’ll think of me every time you take a sip."

New Year’s Eve, the city sky alive with fireworks while they curled on the couch, playing Tower Defense games until dawn.

Their wedding day. He’d solemnly placed his epaulettes and service medals in her hands, then clasped her fingers as he vowed before the officiant, "Ten years, twenty years… when your hair is silver, I’ll still be right here beside you. I will love you forever."

She just hadn’t realized his "forever" would expire so soon.

Hadn’t realized these memories would end up trapping only her.

Her hands trembled slightly as she began clearing the space. Sentimental items went into the trash. Anything of value was listed for sale online.

She looked at the pale indentation on her ring finger. The Oppenheimer Blue Star Diamond. A one-of-a-kind piece, commissioned for ten billion from the world’s top designer—the ring he’d proposed with. She’d never taken it off, not even in the warzone, when death felt inches away.

The blue stone still glittered, cold and perfect. Everything else had changed.

A bitter smile touched her lips as she finally slid the ring off and placed it in its velvet box.

Staring at the half-empty suitcase, it hit her: apart from some clothes and daily necessities, she had nothing left.

*Ding.*

A notification chimed from her phone. A new post from Judith on her social feed.

**[So happy~ Picking out wedding dresses with my hubby!]**

The man in the photo had a cool, detached elegance. The pure black suit accentuated his tall, straight frame, and his deep-set eyes were captivating. Under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, he was focused on fastening the intricate back of Judith’s gown, his long fingers resting at her waist. His usually stern expression was softened, almost tender.

Emily found Jerry’s chat, still pinned to the top of her list. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. *You look good in a suit…* she typed, then deleted it. Finally, she settled on: **I’m leaving. I wish you both happiness.**

She hit send. The message immediately turned red, marked with an exclamation point. *Message delivered but blocked by recipient.*

She stared blankly for a moment, then turned off the screen.

As she approached the villa, Judith’s cheerful laughter carried from far away.

There she was, nestled against Jerry on the couch, a tablet in hand as they played some co-op game. Jerry was peeling grapes, feeding them to her with a natural ease.

Emily averted her eyes. "I’m back."

Jerry’s gaze flicked to the bare indentation on her ring finger. A slight frown creased his brow, but before he could speak, Judith wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him sweetly.

"Jerry, I haven’t had much appetite lately," she said, her voice a soft plea. "I heard Emily makes an amazing angelica and red date soup. Could she make some for me?"

Jerry’s eyes shifted coolly to Emily. "Making some tonic soup for Judith isn’t too much to ask, is it?"

An invisible fist closed around Emily’s heart, squeezing the air from her lungs.

The angelica and red date soup. Back when Jerry had lost his memory, she had consulted with a master herbalist, practicing for three grueling months just to perfect it. *Angelica*—the name itself meant "should return." It was her silent, desperate hope that he would return to her, that his memories would.

He had never taken a single sip. Every time, he’d poured it down the drain right in front of her, calling it disgusting.

And now he wanted her to make it for another woman.

No words came. She walked into the kitchen without responding, washed the angelica root and dates, added water and the other ingredients, and set it to simmer over a low flame.

An hour later, she carried the steaming pot into the living room, only to find Jerry’s parents had arrived.

His mother was holding Judith’s hand, her voice full of gentle concern. "If you feel any discomfort during the pregnancy, you must tell us. You’re the first daughter-in-law of the family now. We’ll make sure you want for nothing."

She was busily arranging an array of prenatal supplements she’d brought, along with piles of baby items—a crib, a high chair, bottles, tiny clothes…

"And this," she said, placing documents and a jade pendant in Judith’s hands, "is 30% of the family’s corporate shares, and our ancestral jade heirloom. It has been passed down from the first lady of the family for generations. It belongs to you now."

Power. Wealth. Love and blessing.

None of which Emily had ever received when she married Jerry.

She withdrew her gaze, her expression flat. It didn’t matter anymore. None of it did.