Chapter 2

I walked out of the Registrar's Office and took a cab back to my apartment building.

The elevator ascended to the seventeenth floor. I stood at my door and pressed my thumb to the fingerprint scanner.

The screen flashed red: "Fingerprint not recognized."

I tried again, red letters again.

I typed in the code, my birthday — a six-digit number I'd used for ten years.

"Incorrect password."

I tried his birthday.

"Incorrect password. Two attempts remaining."

I pulled my finger back.

He'd missed our wedding registration, but he remembered to change the lock code.

The hallway was silent, the lock's blue indicator light blinking.

I leaned against the wall, a cold dread creeping up my back, vertebra by vertebra.

The elevator chimed.

Ethan stepped out, Chloe walking half a step behind him.

Her left index finger had a pink Hello Kitty band-aid, but her manicure was perfectly intact.

"Where have you been?" Ethan's first words weren't an apology when he saw me.

"I called you six times. You didn't answer a single one."

He frowned. "Do you know how worried I was?"

Chloe peeked out from behind him, her voice light and soft.

"Ethan, is Summer mad... It's all my fault, I shouldn't have asked you for help..."

The finger with the band-aid fluttered in front of his eyes.

Ethan immediately turned back. "It's not your fault, Chloe."

He turned to me, his tone softening.

"She's so clumsy, she scratched her finger with a broken nail. I just helped put a band-aid on it. It's just a small thing."

I didn't respond. I sidestepped between him and Chloe, walking straight to the lock.

"What's the code?"

"...352716."

The door opened. I walked straight to the liquor cabinet.

On the top shelf, a bottle of whiskey, its label yellowed and curling at the edges.

He'd bought it ten years ago, saying we'd open it on our wedding day.

I took it down.

"What are you doing with that?" Ethan followed me into the living room.

"You said we'd drink it on our wedding day."

"Right, so put it back," he said.

I inverted the bottle.

The amber liquid splattered onto the carpet, soaking in fast, leaving a large, dark stain.

The entire living room filled with the dull, sour smell of fermentation, clinging to my nostrils.

"Summer!" He rushed over to snatch the bottle, but it was already empty.

The last few drops fell from the neck, landing on his shoe.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Ethan, this is the third time we've scheduled to get married."

"I explained, Chloe hurt her hand."

"We won't make it to that day."

I placed the empty bottle on the coffee table.

His face flushed, a vein pulsed at his temple.

"Unbelievable." He spat out the words and turned toward the entryway.

Chloe stood there, unmoving, her fingers tugging at her sleeve, her gaze flickering toward me.

"Chloe, go inside and rest. Don't mind her."

He put an arm around Chloe's shoulder, and they both went into the master bedroom.

The door closed, leaving only the wine stain and the sour smell in the living room.

I went to the study and pulled open the drawer. My driver's license, passport, copies of the apartment deed.

I took each item out, one by one, and put them into a canvas tote bag.

My phone vibrated.

Chloe's new post on Instagram.

A photo of the master bedroom's king-sized bed, with a dark gray suit sleeve draped over a chair in the top right corner of the frame.

It was captioned with a sun emoji and a smile.

Posted three minutes ago.

I opened my contacts.

Ethan.

Swiped left. Delete.

Opened our chat, then blocked him completely.

The screen jumped back to my contacts list, his profile picture gone.

I zipped up my canvas tote bag and placed my phone face down on the desk.

The drawer was empty.

The liquor cabinet was empty.

My contacts list, empty too.