More than a week had passed, and the issue concerning Joy’s masterpiece had increasingly become an enigma. Mary desperately needed an explanation from Andrew at this point. She was genuinely too afraid to contemplate, let alone believe he might be involved.
His address turned out to be false, and Mary felt helpless. Her fingers fidgeted with her phone, pacing back and forth. She yearned to see Andrew once more to ask him directly.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed with a new notification on her Facebook account. Lethargically, she opened it to see Agnes boasting about a delightful dish she had just cooked in her home apartment. A thought sparked inside her, and she wondered how long Agnes had been back without her knowing. But the more puzzling question was, how could Agnes have remained ignorant of the turmoil unfolding in Mary’s family?
Scrolling through her contacts, she dialed Agnes’s number. The phone rang, but there was no answer. It dawned on her that Agnes was her last resort.
Without another thought, Mary singlehandedly drove to Agnes’s apartment, hoping she could provide the leads to track Andrew down, be it an address or a phone number.
Agnes’s apartment was on the tenth floor of a wealthy and amenity-filled residential area. The inhabitants were economically well off, but Agnes was just a reporter with a humble background. She had managed to secure a scholarship abroad after much struggle and, in a short span, had acquired a luxury apartment.
On her last homecoming, Agnes invited Mary to her housewarming, where she introduced Andrew. When Mary questioned her about investing so much in an apartment while living abroad, Agnes casually responded, “After that, I’ll live in it.”
Linking the events, Mary realized that Agnes must know something about the situation. With no more hesitation, Mary drove straight to find Agnes.
After waiting a few minutes for the elevator, she stepped inside and unhesitatingly pressed the number for the required floor.
Touching her finger over the doorbell, she hesitated for a moment. From inside, she could hear a woman’s laughter and the simple teasing of a man. The voices sounded eerily familiar, causing Mary to regret coming instantly. However, burdened with her father’s bitter death and a heart of unresolved issues, she forcefully pushed open the unlocked door.
On the sprawling, plush white and green sofa, a man and a woman lay entangled, whispering words that would embarrass any listener. Mary froze on the spot, watching from the corner as they reveled in happiness that came at the cost of her agony. Her fiery eyes wished to unleash a wrathful blow upon these two shameless individuals.
The door closed gently, creating a sound neither loud nor soft, just enough for Andrew to detect the presence of a stranger in his home. He startled, his head whipping back to the direction of the sound, causing Agnes to stifle her laughter. Seeing Mary standing rooted to the spot, he exhibited no remorse or intentions to explain himself.
He calmly moved away from his chair, picked up his shirt from the floor, and dressed as if nothing unusual had occurred. Agnes, too, clothed herself, her expression disdainful.
Mary, devoid of any further thoughts, marched towards Agnes, her hand poised to grab the woman’s hair, with the intent of ripping it all out so she would no longer have the audacity to look anyone in the eye. But before she could execute her plan, Andrew intervened. He pulled her arm away forcefully, bellowing at her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Who do you think you are, creating havoc here? What right do you have to hit her?”
Mary froze, amazed by the words of her soon-to-be husband. It felt like a massive explosion had occurred right next to her ear. She tilted her head to look him straight and spoke loudly.
“As your bride, don’t I have the right to punish the woman seducing my husband?”
He threw his head back, letting out a hearty laugh, tearing Mary’s heart.
“Your husband? Do you still consider yourself a noble lady? Do you believe you have what it takes to win my heart? Let me tell you, without your competent father and his enormous wealth, you are but a piece of rag worthy of being discarded.”
Tears streamed down the beautiful face of Mary. She hated her vulnerability and how she couldn’t cry, even though she knew she was humiliated and abandoned. She slowly composed herself, mustered all her courage, and approached him to confirm one last time.
“If you knew I was so worthless from the start, why did you say you loved me?”
This question seemed superfluous to Andrew. Internally, he thought, ‘How can someone be so foolish?’
“You think I pursued you because I didn’t know about your wealth? You’re sorely mistaken. I was after your money, and now that you’ve lost it all, why should I stick around?”
Each word from his mouth was like a knife stabbing Mary’s heart, causing it to bleed and draining her strength. She glanced at the woman beside her husband, her best friend, feeling utterly disgusted. They indeed complemented each other perfectly.
Agnes watched Mary with a gloating smile. After all these years, she finally saw the high and mighty Mary suffer a disgraceful defeat at her hands. She shot a contemptuous look at her defeated adversary, her face full of self-satisfaction.
Since she had known Mary, she had never stopped being jealous of her because Mary’s reality was her dream. Despite walking side by side for years, she had never come to terms with the fact that while one was born with a golden spoon, she had to struggle and still couldn’t rise to the top. Everything came quickly to Mary; she felt she was reaching for the stars she could never touch.
“Mary, do you think I was happy and content to have a wealthy, naïve, and kind friend like you? Never. Whenever I was with you, I felt disgusted by your pathetic naivety. I felt like nothing more than your maid. And you generously handed me the things you no longer needed as if you were bestowing charity on the poor.”
To Agnes, every help from Mary felt like pity, like charity. She never acknowledged the sincerity of her closest friend. Therefore, as long as Mary was happy, there was a thorn in Agnes’s side.
Mary was numb all over. She never thought she and her best friend could conspire against her, leading to such ruin.
“Agnes, his betrayal hurts less than hearing these words from you. I never pitied or looked down on you.”
“Mary, I wasn’t wrong in calling you naive. What you’re doing right now is hurting others,” Andrew mercilessly rubbed salt in her wound.
“Get out! Get out of here now. We don’t want to see you anymore.”
Andrew forcefully pushed Mary out the door, slamming it shut behind her. He had achieved his goal. His long-exerted efforts had been well-spent.