Chapter 2

I watched the trees stream backward outside the window, replaying every moment of our years together.

It wasn't until the driver gently asked, "Need a tissue?" that I realized my face was already soaked with tears.

I wiped them away with the back of my hand.

"Thanks. I'm fine."

Back at the apartment, every movement ran on autopilot.

I opened the suitcase and started packing, piece by piece.

When I got to the dark green slip dress, I stopped.

That was what I'd been wearing earlier today.

Before we left, I'd twirled three times in front of the full-length mirror and asked him: "Do I look good?"

He didn't even look up. "It's fine."

I'd picked out earrings and jewelry to match the dress, done my makeup.

After all that effort, he frowned just as we were about to leave:

"That dress doesn't really suit you. Change."

I'd thought he genuinely meant it didn't suit me.

It wasn't until we arrived that I understood — his first love was wearing the same one.

That dress had been my birthday present last year. He'd had it custom-made by an independent designer, just for me.

I thought it was one of a kind.

Turns out it was just one of two.

I pulled the dress back out of the suitcase and hung it in the closet.

I didn't want to take it with me.

I'd lived here for five years, and traces of me were everywhere.

But the things that were truly mine? They fit in a single suitcase.

The moment the zipper closed, the room felt like it had lost half of itself.

I sat on the edge of the bed and texted my parents:

[Mom, Dad — the wedding's off.]

[There's an urgent project at work. I have to leave tomorrow.]

Mom's call came through instantly. I didn't pick up. I was afraid the crack in my voice would give me away.

I typed back instead: [It's a work thing. I can handle it.]

She was quiet for a moment, then replied: [Your life, your call. Your dad and I will deal with the relatives. Don't worry about that.]

I stared at the screen, the tip of my nose stinging.

Typed back: [Thanks, Mom.]

After a moment's thought, I sent a voice message to my business partner, Henry:

[Henry — that impossible client we've been chasing. What city is he in now? Send me the file, I'm flying out.]

Henry's reply was instant:

[Have you lost your mind? We've been emailing that guy for six months with zero response. You think you can just show up and get a meeting?]

If I couldn't get a meeting, at least I could see the scenery.

I just needed a destination far enough away that I couldn't turn back.

I tossed my phone into my bag, stood up, and took one last look around the place I'd called home for years.

I was just about to walk out when I heard the keypad on the front door.

I instinctively stepped back.

A voice drifted in — "It's fine, she can crash here for one night. She won't mind" —

Then I saw Aiden with a tipsy Selene leaning on his arm.