The Decoration

A week before the handover of our marital home, the evening breeze carried the warmth of early summer, brushing softly against my face. I took a day off from work, carrying the braised duck Finn Collins loves, walking briskly towards the renovation site. In seven days, this two-bedroom apartment will be completely finished—our marital home, the place I'd pictured in my mind countless nights. I had even planned that on moving day, I'd put a fiddle-leaf fig by the entrance and place a photo of the two of us on the living room coffee table. As I approached the renovation site's door, I noticed the sliding door wasn't fully shut, leaving a gap. Inside, I heard the electric drill stop, immediately followed by a voice I knew all too well — Finn Collins's voice. My hand, which had been reaching to push the door open, froze in midair. "You should have seen how excited Flora Lynn was when she first talked about wanting a starry sky ceiling." Finn's tone was thick with undisguised contempt, as if he was talking about something utterly ridiculous: "Her eyes were shining like crazy. Did she really think I'd go along with what she wanted?" "Finn, aren't you afraid Flora Lynn will find out you secretly changed the design plan?" The one speaking was David Carter, Finn's childhood friend, who had previously helped pick out the renovation materials. My heart sank suddenly, and my fingers unconsciously clenched the bag of braised duck so tightly the plastic crinkled—I didn't even notice. "So what if she finds out?" Finn scoffed, his tone dripping with confidence, "She can't live without me." "You know perfectly well—after her leg injury, she quit her job and now depends completely on me." After a pause, Finn Collins's tone suddenly softened, becoming so gentle it seemed to drip with warmth, completely different from the scornful attitude he'd just shown: "Besides, the house's style has to suit Whitney's taste." Whitney had mentioned before that she liked light apricot-colored walls paired with white sheer curtains—that way, the sunlight shining through feels just right. Whitney — Whitney Scott, Finn's ex-girlfriend. My ears were buzzing, like a swarm of bees flying inside them. I remembered how excited I was when I told Finn I wanted a starry sky ceiling. I was holding the design plan and pointing to the ceiling spot, saying, "Look, when the lights come on at night, it's like lying under a starry sky. So romantic!" Back then, Finn laughed and ruffled my hair, saying, "Alright, we'll do it your way—for our marital home, it has to be exactly what you like." So all that tenderness was just a lie. "Does Flora Lynn know she's only a stand-in?" David asked again, his tone tinged with a bit of amusement, like he was watching a show. "She doesn't need to know." Finn's voice turned cold. "As long as she stays obediently by my side, that's all that matters." Once the house is finished, Whitney will definitely be happy to come back. "By then, it'll be the right time for me to lay everything out to Flora Lynn." Every single word felt like a sharp knife, piercing deep into my heart. I froze at the doorstep, my hands and feet going cold, and even breathing became difficult. It turned out that the marital home I'd dreamed of day and night was never meant for me from the start; The love I had carefully guarded was just a bargaining chip Finn used to get Whitney to come back; I realized that in Finn's heart, I was never Flora Lynn — just a replacement for Whitney. The voices inside kept going, but I couldn't hear what David was saying anymore. I suddenly felt my vision darken, tears welling up uncontrollably and streaming down my cheeks, dropping onto the back of my hand, cold as ice. I didn't push the door open to confront him, nor did I call out. I quietly took a step back, turned around, and walked away, one step at a time. The ground beneath my feet felt like it was filled with lead; every step was so heavy I could barely breathe. The braised duck in my hand was still warm, but my heart felt as cold as ice.