Chapter 3

3

Professor Thompson sent me the application right away.

I had just finished filling it out when Mark came home.

He had a huge bouquet of roses and an expensive necklace.

I recognized the brand.

It was a new collection.

I just glanced at it and tossed it in a drawer.

Mark looked awkward.

"Amy, are you still mad?"

"Tell me what I can do to make you feel better."

"Whatever it is, I'll do it."

I looked away and picked up our cat, a silver chinchilla.

We had gotten her a couple of months ago.

I love cats, but Mark wasn't a fan.

So we'd never had one.

The day he brought her home, I was feeling down about not getting pregnant.

Seeing that cat just made all the bad feelings go away.

Mark treated the cat like it was good luck.

He took care of feeding her and cleaning the litter box.

"Amy, how about we take a trip? You've been wanting to see the ocean, right?"

"We can go on a cruise."

"We can sit on the deck at night and look at the stars."

"I know it's hard to forget what happened yesterday."

"But I'll try."

"Amy, I'll always be the Mark you love."

"I swear."

I looked at the man kneeling on the floor, swearing to God.

I felt empty.

I nodded.

Mark got so happy.

His face lit up.

He couldn't wait to book tickets and plan everything.

Maybe because I seemed to be brushing things off, Brittany got even bolder.

She sent me a picture of a Corgi.

"Honey, this is a gift from Mark to keep me happy."

"I love dogs, so I won't be giving him up anytime soon."

"Oh, by the way, how's the cat doing?"

"I'm allergic to cats, so I can't keep her."

"But Mark gave her to me, so I didn't want to just throw her away."

"He said you liked cats, so he told me to give her to you."

"Honey, who do you think would win in a fight, the cat or the dog?"

My blood ran cold.

My mind went blank.

So Mark hadn't gotten the cat just for me.

Brittany didn't want it and he just brought it home.

The cat meowed sadly and jumped to the floor.

I looked down and saw a couple of cat hairs in my hand.

Mark booked the tickets.

He reserved a fancy room with a king-sized bed.

I checked the date.

July third.

Seven days away.

If my application went through, July third would also be the day I left for France.

That night, Mark poured me a glass of milk.

He looked at me with lust in his eyes.

Suddenly, I felt sick to my stomach.

I knocked the milk over.

The white liquid stained the sheets.

Mark just worried about whether I was hurt.

"Amy, are you okay? Did you get burned?"

My eyes were red and my throat felt tight.

"I'm fine," I croaked out.

Mark sighed in relief and carefully cleaned up the mess.

As I watched him moving around, I felt like I was in a dream.

Mark.

Mark.

Who are you, really?