Chapter 2

Before, the mere mention of Lily's name from Ryan's lips was enough to make me lose control.

Like last year, when he took the birthday gift he'd bought for me and gave it to Lily instead.

I'd broken down on the spot, pointing at him and screaming: "All you see is Lily! If you love her so much, why don't you just make her your girlfriend?"

That day, the look he gave me was ice-cold.

In his eyes, I'd become some irrational, unhinged woman.

He said with open disgust: "Emma Miller, I have always seen Lily as a sister. Stop talking nonsense."

After that, whenever I made a scene, all he'd say was: "People with dirty minds see dirt in everything."

But he didn't understand.

I made scenes because I cared about him.

Now that I'd stopped—it wasn't because I'd gotten "reasonable."

It was because I'd stopped loving him.

"Oh, right." Ryan seemed to remember something. "Lily's going to her high school reunion tonight. Her old classmates always gang up on her, and she can't handle them alone. I need to go with her. Don't wait up for dinner."

He didn't wait for my response. He walked straight to the bedroom to shower and change.

The buyer texted me around the same time.

"Miss Emma, I've transferred you the money for the TV. Each time I pick something up, I'll send you a payment. Does that work?"

I replied: "That works."

By the time Ryan emerged dressed and ready, I was packing the throw pillows, blankets, and little stuffed animals from the couch into a large bag.

I said to him, "These are all Lily's things. Do you want them in your room, or should you bring them back to her?"

All of it—every last piece—Ryan had bought for her.

Once, while watching TV, Lily had offhandedly complained that the couch looked too bare and boring.

The very next day, Ryan bought her favorite throw pillows, a soft blanket, and plush toys.

He'd even arranged a spot on the couch that was exclusively hers.

If I accidentally sat there, he'd frown.

"The couch is huge—can't you sit somewhere else? Lily's a little OCD. She can't stand her stuff being messed up."

Then he'd make me move and carefully refold the blanket, repositioning each toy exactly where it had been.

Now, he looked at the bag in my hands, and his expression went cold.

"Emma, what are you doing now? Those things were perfectly fine on the couch. Why do you always have to stir up trouble?"

His voice was low, barely containing his anger.

I said, "I sold the couch. Someone's coming to pick it up tomorrow. Do whatever you want with this stuff."

I set the bag by his bedroom door. I didn't want to argue.

I was about to go change and head out for dinner when I heard Ryan's scornful laugh behind me.

"When you bought that couch, I told you it wasn't right. So you've finally come around to selling it and getting a new one?"

"Don't bother buying another one—I'll pick it out. Lily has a bad back. A stiff leather couch isn't good for her. I'll find something she can lie on without getting sore."

When I'd chosen that firm leather couch, it was because Ryan had said that style put less strain on the spine.

Every word he'd ever said to me—I'd held on to all of it.

But he'd apparently never held on to a single word of mine.

I pressed my lips together and said softly, "Do whatever you want."

It wouldn't matter much longer. I'd be gone soon.

Whatever he bought had nothing to do with me.

Shortly after Ryan left, I changed and went out too.

I found a restaurant with great reviews.

But the moment I walked in and followed the hostess to my table, I heard a burst of teasing laughter from the other side of the partition.