Chapter 2

Nicole watched me pack my single suitcase, her face a mixture of relief and worry.

"Are you sure about this, Maria? Marrying a guy you haven't seen in ten years based on a phone call?"

"He's not a stranger, Nic. He's Andrew."

"I know, but... people change. The rumors back home... they say that rodeo injury made him cold. That he's a tough man to be around. That's why he's still single."

I just shrugged, folding a t-shirt and placing it in the bag. "I need tough. I'm tired of weak."

Before Nicole could argue further, the apartment door burst open.

Ethan' s mother, Eleanor, stood in the doorway, her face pinched with disapproval. She took in my suitcase with a contemptuous sneer.

"What is this? Running away from your responsibilities?"

I didn't answer. I just kept packing.

"I can't believe you," she continued, her voice rising. "Ethan is on the verge of a breakthrough. His brand is finally taking off, and you choose now to be selfish. You should be working harder, finding more clients, not packing your bags like a child."

Nicole stepped forward, her arms crossed. "Are you serious? Your son spent every last cent of Maria's savings to go on a romantic getaway with some yoga bimbo, and you're blaming her?"

Eleanor scoffed, a sound like grinding glass.

"That woman, Sabrina, is an inspiration. She's a visionary, just like my Ethan. I'm proud he's finally found someone on his level, someone who understands his spiritual journey, instead of a little graphic designer who can barely pay the rent."

Her words hit me, but not with pain. It was a cold, clarifying slap.

I stopped packing and turned to face her. I looked her straight in the eye.

"You're right," I said, my voice calm. "I'm not on his level."

I picked up the silver belt buckle from my nightstand and held it up. "So I'm leaving. You and Ethan can have his spiritual journey. I'm going home to Montana."

Eleanor's eyes widened at the sight of the buckle, a flicker of something unreadable in them. But she recovered quickly.

"Fine. Go. He doesn't need you anyway. He has Sabrina now."

She turned and slammed the door behind her.

I stood there for a long moment, the weight of the last five years pressing down on me. I had given everything. I had worked myself to the bone, believed every lie, and endured every criticism from his mother.

For nothing.

It was never about my devotion. It was about my bank account. And when a better-funded opportunity came along, I was discarded.

The realization didn't bring tears. It brought a strange, hollow peace. The fight was over. I had lost, but in losing, I was finally free.