Chapter 2

Sophia had proposed a challenge before she left the diner that day.

"He says he loves me, but he feels guilty about you," she' d said with a smirk. "So let' s see. Let' s give him a month. No contact from you. Let' s see who he really chooses when you' re not around to cook his meals and pay his bills."

A part of me, the stupid, hopeful part, had clung to that.

For three years, Ethan had been my world. I remembered him holding me after a long shift, telling me, "Just a little longer, Scarlett. Once I' m back on my feet, I' ll give you the world." I believed him. I believed in the future he painted for us.

So I agreed. A whole month. I packed a small bag and went to stay with a friend, my phone a silent, heavy weight in my pocket.

The first week, I expected a call. A text. Anything.

Nothing.

The second week, the anxiety was a constant, sour taste in my mouth. Did he even notice I was gone?

The third week, I broke. I went to his mother' s house, pretending I was dropping something off for him. I saw him through the window. He was laughing with his family, looking happy and carefree. He held up his phone to show his younger brother, Owen, a picture.

"She' s so beautiful, isn' t she?" Ethan sighed, a dreamy look on his face.

I thought he meant me. My heart did a stupid little flip.

But then Owen snorted. "Yeah, Sophia Thorne is hot. You' re lucky she finally divorced that old man."

Ethan didn' t correct him. He just smiled, a private, satisfied smile. He wasn' t looking at a picture of me. He was looking at a picture of her.

He hadn' t forgotten our anniversaries or my favorite flower. He had never known them. The flowers he brought me were Sophia' s favorites. The restaurants he took me to on my birthday were places she loved. I wasn' t a person to him. I was a ghost he dressed in another woman' s memories.

I didn' t cry. I was too tired to cry. I just accepted it. A quiet, hollow acceptance.

The month was almost up. I was sitting in my friend' s apartment, watching the local news. They were broadcasting live from a tech gala.

And then I saw him. Ethan, on the red carpet, his arm wrapped tightly around Sophia' s waist. The reporter rushed over to them.

"Ethan, you' ve been out of the spotlight for so long! And now you' re back with the beautiful Sophia Thorne! Is this an official announcement?"

Ethan beamed at the camera, then at Sophia. "I' ve just been waiting for the right time. And for the right woman." He pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss, right there for the whole city to see.

My phone, which had been silent for weeks, suddenly buzzed. It was Ethan. He must have seen the broadcast and realized I would see it too. He was trying to do damage control.

I watched the phone buzz on the table, a bitter smile on my face. Too little, too late. He could spin his lies to the world, but I knew the truth now. The whole world knew the truth.

My boss, Brenda, called a few minutes later. "Scarlett, I' m so sorry. But I need you. The main photographer for the gala just called in sick. I need you to go cover it."

"Brenda, I can' t," I whispered.

"I know. But we have a contract. Please. Just get the shots and leave. You don' t even have to talk to anyone."

So I went. It was my job. I put on my professional face, grabbed my camera, and walked into the lion' s den.

The ballroom was a sea of glitter and champagne. I kept to the edges of the room, my camera a shield. I tried to focus on the stage, on the guest speakers, on anything but them.

But it was impossible. Sophia saw me first. She whispered something in Ethan' s ear, a cruel smile on her face. She walked towards me, a glass of champagne in her hand.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," she said, her voice loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "Still trying to cling to a life that isn' t yours? I told you to stay away."

She "tripped," and the entire glass of champagne went down the front of my simple black dress. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Laughter followed.

"Oh, I am so sorry," she said, her eyes wide with fake innocence. "This is a vintage dress. But I' m sure you' re used to messes."

I couldn' t speak. The humiliation was a physical thing, hot and suffocating. I turned and fled, pushing through the crowd, desperate for air. I ducked into a small, dark corridor behind the ballroom.

I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath, when I heard their voices from the terrace just around the corner.

"Was that really necessary, Soph?" It was Ethan.

"She needed to be reminded of her place, darling. She' s nobody."

Then, I saw it. I peeked around the corner and my heart stopped. He had her pressed against the railing, the city lights twinkling behind them. He looked at her with an intensity, a raw hunger I had never, ever seen from him. It was a look of pure adoration.

"You' re right," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He kissed her, not like the performative peck on the red carpet, but with a deep, consuming passion that stole my breath. It was the kiss of a man who had waited years for this moment.

In the middle of the kiss, he pulled back for a second. A flicker of something crossed his face. Guilt?

"I should call Scarlett," he mumbled against Sophia' s lips.

The thought was a small, pathetic crumb, and the old me would have grabbed it. But the new me, the one forged in humiliation and champagne, just felt a cold, final click in my soul.

That fleeting thought was nothing compared to the devotion in his kiss. I was an afterthought. A loose end to be tied up.

I had seen enough.