Chapter 2

Three days. Three days of silence, then his predictable move. A bouquet of roses arrived at my temporary hotel room, the generic kind he always sent. Red. I hated red roses. Sunflowers were my favorite, a fact he’d forgotten or never cared to remember. The card just said, "Sorry. M." Later, he called. His voice was casual, like we’d had a small spat, nothing more. "Hey," he said. "Feeling better?" I didn't answer. "Look, Chloe's throwing a little thank you dinner for me tonight. At The Gilded Spoon. 8 PM. She really wants you to be there." A thank you dinner. For him. Hosted by her. And I was invited as an afterthought. "I'm not going, Mark." "Sarah, come on. Don't make this a bigger deal than it is. Chloe feels terrible you were upset." She felt terrible? Or she enjoyed the drama? "I already told you, Mark. We're done." A sigh on his end. "We can talk tonight. Just come to the dinner." He didn't get it. He never got it. But a small, foolish part of me, the part that still remembered why I’d fallen for him, wanted to see if there was any flicker of understanding. So, I went. A mistake.

The Gilded Spoon was trendy, loud. Chloe was already there, seated next to Mark in a cozy booth. She wore a soft, pale blue dress, looking delicate. A small, almost invisible bandage was on her ankle. "Sarah! I'm so glad you came!" she chirped, her smile wide. Mark stood up, a little awkwardly. "Hey." I sat opposite them. "I wanted to explain," Chloe began, her voice earnest. "About the other day. I'd sprained my ankle earlier that morning, a silly fall. When the explosion happened, I just panicked. Mark knew I wouldn't be able to get down the stairs quickly on my own." A sprained ankle. That was his excuse. Mark was already ordering for her. "She'll have the lavender spritzer, and the pan-seared scallops." He didn't ask her. He didn't ask me what I wanted. He fussed over Chloe, making sure her chair was comfortable, that she had enough water. I felt like I was watching them through a glass wall. Chloe then turned to me, her expression full of concern. "Mark, you should apologize to Sarah properly. She was very scared." He looked at me, a practiced expression of remorse. "Sarah, I am sorry. I should have checked on you. It was chaotic." It sounded rehearsed. Empty. "It's fine," I said, pushing my water glass around. There was no point.