REVENGE ON MY UNFAITHFUL HUSBAND

My Killer is Right Here

The moment I realized it, my chest filled with rage.

They say the dead turn into vengeful ghosts to seek justice, but that's just a myth. It feels like I'm trapped under an invisible barrier. Even with my enemy right in front of me, I can't do anything.

All I can do is watch her take credit for the work I poured my heart and soul into, effortlessly earning everyone's praise. Those paintings weren't meant for acclaim; they were meant to heal me.

These past two years, because of Zoey, I've been spiraling. I even saw a therapist who diagnosed me with severe depression. Medication only numbs it; it doesn't fix anything. The doctor suggested I either stay away from the source of my depression or learn to heal. I knew the root was Zoey and Micah, but I was too caught up in my obsession and sunk deeper into darkness.

Back when I was still at the Gomez's, I'd hide in the basement studio, painting over and over—each time hurt, each time healed. I never thought Zoey Gomez would come after my work too.

Someone suddenly noticed the signature on the paintings, like they'd discovered a hidden treasure. When I was in middle school, I entered a design competition under the pseudonym "S" and became an overnight sensation. My parents had high hopes for me and didn't want me to waste time on art, so I didn't even show up to accept the award.

I secretly opened a social media account, and it quickly gained followers who eagerly awaited my next piece. I posted one artwork a year, and even Micah didn't know about it. Two years ago, I accidentally posted from my main account, and the new piece went viral overnight. I didn't care about fame, so I let people speculate.

There was a heated debate online—some said I was S, others accused me of clout-chasing. I never cleared things up, and in less than a month, everyone forgot.

Now, two years later, Zoey unearthed those unreleased paintings of mine. I habitually hid my signature within the art, and some long-time fans instantly recognized my style, mistaking Zoey as the artist.

The incident of my account mix-up resurfaced. Some people trashed me, others rushed to praise her. Zoey basked in the "genius girl" spotlight, earning praise for her supposed kind and beautiful soul.

News from the scene spread online fast, and soon, everyone was accusing me of impersonating S. Even the charity work I did under S's name was credited to Zoey.

Micah watched everything unfold, a complicated expression in his eyes. Even though he didn't know I was S, he was familiar with my style. "Did you really paint these, Zoey?" he asked.

Zoey's eyes welled up with tears. "Who else could it be if not me? Didn't you always compliment my art?"

"It's just... the style feels different from your usual work."

"Who sticks to one style? I can do many things, Micky. You'll see." As she spoke, her fingers trailed slowly down Micah's chest. She was getting more brazen by the day.

Micah didn't want to be seen, so he quickly shook her off. "The auction's starting. Let's go."

I was forced to follow them into the auction hall, packed with art enthusiasts and collectors. Many had come specifically after hearing the buzz about S online. The room was swarming with people.

Micah wove through the crowd and brushed past a man.

"Sorry," the man muttered in a voice raspy like it had been scorched by smoke. He was hunched over, his face hidden from view.

Then he looked up, and I locked eyes with a pair of bloodshot, sinister eyes.

Boom!

It was like a sledgehammer hit my heart.

It's him! The one who killed me. He's right here!