Chapter 2

At four that afternoon, a delivery driver brought me a bouquet.

It was from Beatrice.

There was a card tucked inside.

"Elisa, I never meant to stay. Please don't let me be the reason you hurt yourself."

I read it, slipped it back into the flowers, and left the whole bouquet outside the door.

That night, our old college group chat suddenly came back to life.

Beatrice sent two messages first.

"Stop asking. Elisa's been having a rough time, and it's all my fault."

"I'll find another place as soon as I can. I'll stay out of their lives from now on."

Then she deleted them.

The others immediately started trying to talk me down.

"Just clear the air. Don't actually break up over this."

"Beatrice already feels terrible. Elisa, say something too. Don't make this uglier than it needs to be."

"If Beatrice really wanted to pull something shady, would she have asked for those favors in front of everyone?"

That was when I finally got it.

Nobody cared what those seven days had done to me.

They just cared that the situation didn't get too awkward for everyone else.

I left the group chat.

Half an hour later, Owen came home.

Beatrice was right behind him.

Several suitcases sat at their feet.

"Her lease is up, and her new apartment won't be ready for three days. Her luggage can stay in our study for now. She'll sleep in the hospital staff housing for the next few nights."

Owen didn't ask me.

He told me.

I pointed at my own suitcases against the wall.

"My things are still in the study."

Beatrice immediately grabbed her suitcase handle.

"Then I won't leave them here. I'll get a hotel. Owen, quit making things harder for Elisa."

She lowered her head and started dragging the suitcase toward the door.

Owen grabbed the handle.

"Do you have any idea what three nights in a Manhattan hotel costs? Elisa's moving out Sunday. The study will be empty anyway. What's the big deal about leaving a few boxes there?"

I didn't try to stop them again.

Beatrice knew this apartment too well.

The moment she stepped inside, she casually picked up the jacket Owen had tossed on the couch.

"You're still such a slob. Elisa's probably the only person who can put up with you."

She laughed and patted his arm.

It looked completely natural.

And suddenly, I remembered something.

For the past eight years, every time we got together, Beatrice was always the first to notice when Owen changed his hair, dropped a few pounds, or had darker circles under his eyes after a night shift.

I'd always chalked it up to her being observant.

Beatrice rolled her suitcase into the study.

When she opened a drawer, she found our marriage paperwork.

Our New York State marriage license application.

Copies of our IDs.

The appointment confirmation.

It was all there.

She came out holding the papers and waved them in the air.

"ou two are finally going to the City Clerk's office? When? Should I start getting ready to be maid of honor?"

Her suitcase wasn't fully closed.

A picture frame was sticking out.

My eyes went to it without thinking.

Owen was wearing the light blue shirt I'd picked out for him.

Beatrice was leaning against his shoulder.

The sunset glowed over the river behind them.

It was one of the photos they'd taken to remember the week.

Beatrice caught me looking and quickly shoved the frame back into the suitcase.

"I just wanted one picture to remember it by. If it bothers you, I won't display it."

On the side of another box, I saw Owen's handwriting.

"Collectibles—Fragile."

He'd gone to Beatrice's old apartment to help her pack.

He'd spent the whole day there.

I'd texted him three times.

Every reply came hours late.

Now the boxes he'd personally packed and sealed were being carried into our home.

I looked up at Owen.

He snatched the marriage paperwork out of Beatrice's hand and shoved it back into the drawer.

"We'll talk about the wedding once she calms down."