Chapter 1

1.

I recognized the deep blue silk scarf in my husband's car instantly.

It was Lily's. His so-called "childhood friend."

Damian glanced at it and said casually, "Lily's blood sugar was low. I gave her a ride back to her apartment, and she must have left it."

I folded the scarf, placed it back on the seat, and gave him a perfect smile.

"It's fine."

I knew all of his friends. Only Lily would wear such a flashy designer brand.

I had screamed and fought with Damian over her countless times.

He finally promised me in a hospital hallway that he would never see her alone again―the day I lost our baby.

Seeing me so calm now, Damian was taken aback, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Elena, you don't care at all?"

Care?

Of course, I used to care.

I cared so much that I lost my child and almost died on the operating table.

But now? I truly didn't.

…

"Elena!"

Damian's voice was laced with offended anger. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight I thought my bones would shatter.

"What is this attitude?"

What attitude?

The attitude a survivor has toward the person who nearly destroyed her.

I calmly looked at the wrist he was crushing, then up at his tense face. The face I had been obsessed with for ten years. Now, it just seemed foreign and absurd.

"I'm tired. I want to rest," I said flatly, not struggling.

My compliance seemed to infuriate him more than any resistance would have. Fire ignited in his eyes―the same irritation he always got right before I was about to have a meltdown.

"Tired? This again?" He sneered, shoving my hand away. "Every time there's a problem, you run away! Elena, can you grow up? Lily is just my friend. What's wrong with me taking her home?"

"Nothing's wrong," I replied quickly, my tone as mild as if I were discussing the weather. "I overreacted."

I even took a step back and pretended to brush a piece of non-existent lint from his suit jacket.

"You―"

The lecture Damian had prepared died in his throat. He stared at me, his eyes searching, scrutinizing, even suspicious.

He didn't get it. He thought this was the start of another cold war. But he didn't know that the war had already ended, along with all the blood I had lost.

My peace was the silence of his battlefield.

It left him completely lost.

"What the hell do you want?" he finally asked, his voice weak with defeat.

What did I want?

I wanted him to go to hell. I wanted Lily to feel every ounce of pain I had ever felt.

But I would never say that. Saying it meant I still cared.

And I had no expectations left.

"Damian, let's get a divorce."

The air froze.

The shock on his face was more genuine this time, as if he'd just heard the funniest joke of the year.

"A divorce?" He scoffed, stepping toward me, his tall frame casting a shadow over me. "Elena, what new game are you playing? A divorce over a scarf? Can't you be more creative?"

He reached out to grab my chin, his old move to force me to look at him. I turned my head just before he could touch me. It was a small movement, but it was like an invisible wall between us.

His hand froze in mid-air. The mockery on his face faded, replaced by a dark, heavy disbelief.

"I'm not kidding." I walked to the entryway and pulled out the suitcase I had packed long ago. It only contained a few outfits and an old photo album.

"The divorce papers are on the desk in the study. I've already signed them. You can sign whenever you're ready."

With that, I pulled the suitcase and opened the door without a second thought. The evening wind swept in, carrying the distinct chill of a New York autumn.

Behind me, there was a deathly silence.

I didn't look back. I just walked out.

The moment the door clicked shut, I heard a loud crash from inside―the sound of an expensive crystal vase shattering. It was followed by Damian's roar, thick with suppressed fury.

"Elena, if you walk out that door, you will never come back!"

Never come back?

Perfect.

I stepped into the elevator with my suitcase, watching that door shrink until it disappeared from view.

I smiled. A silent, genuine smile that came from deep within. As I smiled, tears streamed down my face.

Not for Damian. For me. For the Elena who once loved him so much she had lost herself.

That version of me was dead.