Chapter 1

The day I received the notice that my company wanted to transfer me overseas, I told my fiancé, Ethan Holloway.

I made sure he understood one thing: the job was across the Atlantic.

"Do you want me to go, Ethan?"

He sat on the couch without even looking up.

"Up to you."

I gave a bitter smile at how little he seemed to care.

I knew he'd say that.

Ethan never got involved in anything that had to do with me.

When a male coworker harassed me, I asked Ethan what he thought I should do.

"Up to you."

On our first anniversary, I asked if he wanted to celebrate.

"Up to you."

Even when I asked if he wanted to marry me, he'd only glanced at me.

"Up to you."

For the longest time, I thought that was just who he was.

Until the day I saw his messages with his ex-girlfriend, Sophie Wren.

Sophie told him she'd joined Hinge and was ready to start dating again.

His response?

"Don't. Don't start dating. Delete the app, please, Sophie. You know this is going to drive me insane."

Reading those words suddenly reminded me of something I'd once said to Ethan.

I'd told him that if he didn't treat me better, I'd break up with him and marry someone else.

His answer back then had been simple.

"Up to you."

That was the moment I finally understood.

He hadn't been respecting all my decisions.

He simply didn't care.

He didn't care who I was with. He didn't care if we ended up living on opposite sides of the world.

He didn't even care who I married.

So when he said "Up to you" again this time, I looked at him and nodded.

"Okay."

Fine. If everything was really "up to me," then I'd make the choice myself.

I'd accept the transfer. And I'd leave him for good.

...

I turned and walked into the bedroom, opened my laptop, and pulled up the relocation offer from our HR director, David Warren.

It had been sitting unanswered in my inbox because I'd originally planned to turn it down.

Not anymore.

I opened the email and typed two words.

I accept.

Then I hit send.

David replied almost immediately, clearly thrilled.

"That's great! The Paris office really needs someone with your experience to build out the team. I'll have the travel team start booking everything. Departure date is the fifteenth—two weeks from now. Does that work for you?"

The fifteenth.

My chest tightened when I saw the date.

That was the exact day Ethan and I were supposed to go to City Hall and get married.

Just last month, I'd happily looked up available City Hall appointments online, picked a date that didn't conflict with either of our work schedules, and sent Ethan a screenshot.

I'd asked if that day worked for him.

His response had been the same dismissive phrase.

"Up to you."

I'd even filed for our marriage license two weeks in advance.

Everything was ready.

All that was left was for the two of us to walk through those doors together.

Yes.

That was how he'd been all these years.

Whenever I faced a major decision in my life, he refused to be part of it.

No matter what it was, his answer was always the same.

"Up to you."

Once, a male coworker harassed me at a work dinner.

I'd hidden in the restroom and texted Ethan, asking if he could come pick me up.

"Up to you."

"You need me there, I'll come."

On our first anniversary, I'd asked if he wanted to celebrate together.

Again—

"Up to you."

He never got jealous of the men around me. Never interfered. Never got emotional.

My friends envied me.

They said I had all the freedom of being single while still having a boyfriend.

At first, I'd thought the same thing.

I thought he understood how to give me space. I thought his refusal to interfere with my choices meant he respected me.

But as time passed, I only felt more exhausted.

And whenever someone asked what was wrong, I couldn't explain it.

I even started wondering if I was too sensitive.

Then, little by little, I understood.

I was exhausted because, for someone who was supposed to love me, Ethan was always too calm.

So calm it bordered on indifference.

He didn't care if I got caught in the rain. He didn't care what men I spent time with.

He didn't even care whether I married him.

Because he didn't care, every "Up to you" came so easily.

As far as Ethan was concerned, whatever happened to me was my problem.

The person he truly cared about was his ex-girlfriend.

Sophie.

They'd started dating in high school.

They dated, broke up, got back together, then broke up again. The cycle lasted seven years.

Eventually, Sophie moved to London for grad school, and they slowly lost touch.

But now she was back in New York.

I remembered exactly how Ethan had reacted when Sophie told him she'd created a Hinge profile.

The man who was always impossibly indifferent toward me had completely lost control.

He'd even called her on the spot to confront her.

"Don't. Delete it. I'm serious."

He didn't want her anywhere near another man.

He interfered with every decision she made and cared about every tiny detail of her life.

But with me?

"Up to you."

Because he didn't care.

Nothing I did mattered to him.

Still, maybe "Up to you" wasn't such a bad answer after all.

At least now I didn't have to explain why I was going to Paris.

I took a deep breath and replied to David.

"The fifteenth works."

I put down my phone, opened the bedroom door, and went into the living room to get some water.

Ethan was holding his iPad, his brows drawn together as if he were dealing with something difficult.

I stood nearby with my glass.

"Busy with work?"

He didn't look up. His fingers flew across the screen.

"Not work. There's an issue with Sophie's new apartment. Her landlord won't deal with it, so I'm telling her what to do."

There was a trace of concern in his voice.

Almost too subtle to notice.

Sophie again.

And the worry and tenderness in his eyes were things I'd never once seen when he looked at me.

I took a sip of warm water and pushed down the hurt.

"Oh. Well, good luck with that."

Then I turned, went back into the bedroom, and shut the door behind me.

The sounds outside disappeared.