Chapter 2

My phone rang, jolting me out of my daze. It was Mark, Ethan's best friend.

"Ava! You need to get over to The Black Rose. It's Ethan. He's a mess."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "What happened?"

"He's completely trashed. And... well, you should probably just come. Chloe's here."

Chloe. The name hit me like a physical blow. Of course. The white whale was back, and Ethan was celebrating.

I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to force the tremor out of my voice. "I'll be right there."

I grabbed my keys and purse, my movements stiff and robotic. On my way out the door, my eyes landed on a box sitting on the entryway table. It was filled with our wedding invitations, the ones I had spent weeks designing myself. The elegant script and custom watermark felt like a mockery now.

They were meant to be mailed out tomorrow.

Without a second thought, I picked up the box, walked into the kitchen, and emptied the entire contents into the trash can. I didn't look at them. I just let them fall, a cascade of broken promises.

It was a small act, but it felt like the first real decision I had made for myself in a long time. I was done.

The drive to The Black Rose was a blur. The bar was packed, loud music thumping through the walls. As I pushed through the door, I could hear snippets of conversation.

"Did you see Chloe Davis is back? She looks amazing."

"I heard she just got divorced. Ethan must be losing his mind."

The talk only confirmed the sick feeling in my stomach. I steeled myself, smoothed down my dress, and walked into the main room.

I walked with a calm I didn't feel. A mask of indifference was all I had left.

The moment I stepped into view, the noise level in the room dropped. Conversations faltered. Heads turned. It was like a scene from a movie. The record scratched and everything went silent.

And then I saw them.

Ethan was slumped in a corner booth, his arm draped possessively around a woman with fiery red hair. He was leaning in close, whispering something in her ear, his face buried in her neck. She was laughing, tilting her head back, a picture of effortless beauty.

It was her. The woman from the thousands of photos on his laptop. Chloe Davis.

The images I had seen just an hour ago were now a living, breathing reality right in front of me. The betrayal was no longer a digital ghost; it was flesh and blood.

Mark rushed over, his face a mask of panic. He tried to pull on Ethan's arm.

"Dude, what are you doing? Ava's here!"

Ethan was too drunk to care. He barely registered Mark's presence, his focus entirely on Chloe.

He swatted Mark's hand away like a pesky fly. "Leave me alone. Can't you see I'm busy?" His words were slurred, dripping with annoyance.

I watched him, a strange sense of detachment washing over me. I had seen Ethan drunk before, but never like this. This wasn't just drunk; this was self-destructive. It was a level of oblivion he had never shown around me.

Mark tried again, his voice desperate. "Ethan, your wedding is in three days! Get it together!"

A few of Ethan's other friends joined in, trying to pry him away from Chloe. It was a clumsy, awkward struggle. They were trying to separate two magnets that were stuck together.

They finally managed to pull him to his feet. He stumbled, his body heavy and uncooperative.

He lost his balance completely and crashed to the floor with a heavy thud, landing in a heap at Chloe's feet.

Mark ran a hand through his hair, looking utterly defeated. He turned to me, his expression full of apology. "Ava, I'm so sorry. This is Chloe. She and Ethan... they go way back."