Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Grant and I had been together ten years. We made it official the day our final exams ended senior year. I still remember that night at the graduation dinner―he'd had too much to drink, his eyes hazy but shining. He gripped my hand like he'd never let go and asked me:

"Jenna, will you be my girlfriend? We applied to the same schools. I'm never letting you go."

In school, Grant had the kind of face that stopped traffic―a walking scenic view wherever he went. A teenage girl can't hide her feelings. I nodded, sealing three years of secret crushing with one word.

That night Grant was over the moon. He grabbed my hand and showed me off to the entire class.

"Everyone, look! Jenna said yes! She's my girlfriend now!"

Blessings and cheering rang in my ears. All I remember is that my face burned red from beginning to end.

I thought we'd stay that good forever. He was attentive to every little detail, and his eyes held no one but me. Back then, I thought that was simply what love looked like.

After college, Grant went abroad, and that's where he met Rosie. I could feel him going lukewarm on me. Mutual friends started sending me photos―Grant and Rosie walking hand in hand down a street in Paris, kissing like no one else in the world existed.

Grant skipped classes for Rosie. Grant got into fistfights for Rosie. Rosie would flush from wine and lean her head on his shoulder, their fingers laced together. She'd throw tantrums whenever he so much as texted me. The two of them turned the wide Paris highways into their own private soap opera.

And I was the punchline of the whole show.

When Grant came home, Rosie followed. His parents naturally despised her. While Grant was overseas, his mother had been hospitalized with a serious illness. It was me―me―who had cared for her day and night. His parents saw all of it, and long ago they'd accepted me as their daughter-in-law in their hearts.

Later, Grant was forced to break up with Rosie. And I became the villain who tore apart two star-crossed lovers. He never stopped holding it over me. But he forgot one thing―I was the one who'd been there first. Even when I found out he was cheating, I couldn't bring myself to leave.

I loved Grant. I lowered every bottom line for him. I loved him on my knees, and I couldn't imagine life without him―and he knew every bit of it. That's exactly why he could hurt me again and again and again.

This time, I was done for good.

That night when I got home, Mom noticed my gloom right away. Dad just looked at me with a face like a storm cloud.

"I told you to leave that boy early on. You wouldn't listen. You had to crash and burn first!"

His words were harsh, but I could hear the ache underneath them.

That's right. Why did I have to crash and burn first?

Mom hurried to shut him up, throwing him look after look. But Dad pressed on anyway, frustrated beyond words.

"Once this blows over, you're going abroad to run our branch office!"

I was the only child, the heir to the family business. Dad had wanted me overseas for training for years, but I'd always refused―because I couldn't let go of Grant.

This time, I said yes without blinking.

My parents stared at me like I'd grown a second head. Maybe it had only been angry talk on Dad's part. Or maybe they'd assumed that, once again, I'd defy them for Grant.

See? Even my parents knew I loved Grant beyond all reason. And Grant just trampled that love underfoot.

The irony was almost funny.

That night, Grant showed up under my building. But before he arrived, I'd already seen Rosie's new post.

The photo was taken from above: Grant crouched down, tying her shoelaces. Her caption read:

"After all these years, someone still treats me like his little girl."

I kept scrolling. Post after post about how Grant doted on her, adored her, spoiled her. And every single date stamp fell on a day he and I had gotten engaged―the days one phone call from her dragged him away from me.

So when Grant appeared under my building, I wasn't the least bit surprised. This was his apology routine. Every single time.

Rain was pouring outside, and Grant stood right in it, the very picture of a repentant sinner.

Mom hovered by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching me with complicated eyes. I knew she didn't want me going down there―but she couldn't bear to see me hurt either.

Dad slammed his water glass down hard enough to rattle the room, terrified that the moment Grant appeared, I'd cancel my trip.

I gave Mom a small nod and walked straight into the rain.

Rain hammered against the umbrella as I held it over Grant's head. When he saw me, there was no surprise on his face―only the smug look of a man who had predicted it all.

"Jen, I know you're angry. But it was a genuine emergency. Rosie might really have gone through with it. I wasn't going to gamble with a life."

The same half-hearted excuse as always. And I used to swallow it every single time. Those years, I was like a woman possessed, incapable of letting go.

But now, hearing the same script, looking at the same face, I couldn't stir up even one ripple in my chest.

I pressed the umbrella handle into his hand and smiled faintly.

"Whether she'd really go through with it―don't you know the answer better than anyone? Funny how she picks our engagement dates. Every single time."