Chapter 2

The next day, I was woken by noise from the kitchen.

I opened the bedroom door and saw Chloe standing at the stove, wearing Ethan's oversized gray loungewear, frying eggs.

She pressed down on the yolk with the spatula, tilted her head, and asked Ethan:

"You like them sunny-side up, right?"

Ethan was leaning against the cabinet next to the stove, looking down at her:

"Sunny-side up. Good memory."

"Of course." Chloe shot him a coy look. "I remember everything about you."

I walked over and sat down at the table. It was already set.

Ethan came over carrying two cups, set one in front of Chloe and pushed the other toward me.

I glanced down. Iced Americano. No sugar, no milk.

But I liked mine sweet. I didn't drink black coffee.

The one who drank unsweetened black coffee was Chloe.

At the table, Chloe spoke up.

"Nora, I just broke up with someone, and it's too depressing to be home. Mind if I stay here a few more days?"

"You guys have plenty of space. I'll just tuck into a corner, I won't be in the way."

Before I could open my mouth, Ethan answered:

"Stay as long as you want. You and Nora are best friends. Better here than out at some hotel—I'd feel more at ease."

So Chloe moved in.

That night, Ethan said he had a work dinner.

He left with Chloe, the two of them laughing on their way downstairs. I stood on the balcony and watched them walk away.

The last thing I saw was Ethan reaching up to smooth her wind-blown hair back into place.

I turned my phone face-down on the balcony railing and closed my eyes for a moment.

Around ten that night, the lock clicked.

I was sitting on the couch.

Chloe came in first, makeup still on, laughing as she stepped inside:

"Nora, you're still up?"

The first thing I noticed was the necklace on her throat.

Tiffany. Heart-shaped pendant. Rose gold chain.

Catching my gaze, she smiled:

"Ethan said this style suits me. You don't mind, do you?"

I didn't say anything.

Late that night, lying in bed, I couldn't hold it in anymore. I nudged Ethan beside me.

He put his phone down. "What?"

"That necklace," I said. "It's the Valentine's Day limited edition, isn't it?"

He paused. "It's just the regular one."

"I looked it up," I said, looking at him.

He was silent for a beat, then let out a sigh, set his glass on the nightstand, and gave me that all-too-familiar expression.

Not guilt. Impatience.

"Nora, just say what you want to say."

"Chloe is living in our home, wearing my clothes, using my things."

I laid it out one line at a time.

"She's rearranged our décor, she's wearing the limited-edition necklace you gave her for Valentine's. Do you think this is normal?"

"She just went through a breakup." He frowned. "And isn't she your best friend? What's wrong with me looking out for her a bit more?"

"Looking out for her?" I repeated. "Is that what this is called? I'm your girlfriend!"

"Can you not blow this out of proportion?"

He waved his hand, like he was brushing off an annoyance.

"Chloe is a friend. I'm just being a little more attentive to her, and you have to make that face. Do you have any idea how ugly you look right now?"

"She's the one who broke up. You've got nothing wrong with your life, what are you being so petty about?"

Just then, the bedroom door opened. Chloe walked in, looked at the two of us, and pulled on a pained expression:

"Is this because of me… Nora, I'll go stay at a hotel. I don't want you two to fight over—"

"No need," Ethan said, turning around, his tone instantly softening.

"Don't overthink it. Nora's just a little tired, she's always like this. Don't take it to heart."

Chloe glanced at me.

The glance lasted a second, but I saw it clearly.

Not apology. Satisfaction.

"You're overreacting," Ethan said finally. "You're being so immature."

I didn't say another word.

I got up, went to the study, sat down at the desk, and read through the program materials from Paris again.

Out in the living room, Chloe was comforting Ethan:

"Nora's probably just been under a lot of stress lately. Don't take it to heart."

He said, "I know. Don't feel bad."

I closed the calendar.

Half a month left.