Chapter 2

The hospital discharged me into a world that felt gray and muted. The first call from Liam came that afternoon. I let it ring until it went to voicemail. The second call came an hour later. I answered, just to make it stop.

"Chloe, are you home?" His voice was clipped, impatient.

"Yes."

"Good. I'm busy, I have a meeting with Sarah soon. Just wanted to make sure you were settled."

I could hear her voice in the background, a light, musical laugh. He didn't even bother to hide it. He was with her, right then, while calling to check on the woman he'd put in the hospital.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice flat.

"Okay. Talk later." He hung up before I could say another word.

The next day, a notification popped up on my phone. A wire transfer from Liam. The amount was $1,015. October 15th. Our first anniversary. Five years ago, he' d given me a cheap silver locket on that day, promising it was just a placeholder until he could afford diamonds. Now he was sending me cash, a number that was once sacred to us, now just a hollow, insulting gesture.

I didn't hesitate. I opened my banking app and hit "Decline Transfer." I sent the money right back to him with a one-word message: "No."

Then I looked at his contact photo. It was a new one. A picture of him and Sarah, standing on a beach, smiling. The same picture Sarah had posted. He had made her his public face. I had only ever been a shadow. I held my finger down on his name and pressed "Block Contact."

That afternoon, I started cleaning. I went through my apartment, a place we had once called our home, and began to systematically remove him from it. I pulled his clothes from the closet, his toothbrush from the bathroom, the books he' d left on the nightstand. I packed everything into two large garbage bags.

I sent him a single, unblocked text from my work phone, which I still had. "Your things are outside my apartment door. Come get them."

He replied almost instantly. "What the hell are you doing, Chloe?"

Then he called. I didn't answer. He called again. And again. Finally, I picked up.

"Who gave you the right to touch my things?" he demanded, his voice laced with an ugly possessiveness.

"They were in my apartment, Liam. They're not anymore. Come get them or I'm throwing them in the dumpster."

"You're being crazy. You're emotional because of the accident."

"No," I said, my voice calm and steady. "I'm being clear. Our relationship is over. Get your stuff."

I hung up and threw the bags outside my door. An hour later, I looked through the peephole and saw him. He didn't look sad or nostalgic. He looked annoyed. He picked up the two bags, walked them down the hall to the trash chute, and shoved them inside. He didn't even look in them. All those years, all those shared memories, tossed away like garbage without a second thought. I felt a pang of sadness, not for him, but for the woman I used to be, the one who thought those things mattered.

He insisted we meet for dinner a few days later, "to talk things through like adults." I agreed, mostly out of a morbid curiosity to see what else he could possibly say. We met at a restaurant we used to frequent.

He ordered for both of us without asking. He got the cilantro-lime shrimp, a dish he knew I hated. I am one of those people for whom cilantro tastes like soap, a fact I had reminded him of dozens of times over the years. He' d either forgotten or he just didn't care. At this point, it didn't matter which.

"So," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Your uncle called my father. Something about an arranged marriage?"

"Yes," I said, pushing the shrimp around my plate.

He scoffed. "Chloe, don't be dramatic. You're just trying to make me jealous. It's not going to work. We can figure this out."

"There's nothing to figure out, Liam."

Just as I said it, a shadow fell over our table.

"Liam, darling! I was hoping I'd find you here."

It was Sarah. She was wearing a dress that was almost identical to one I owned, but hers was a vibrant, confident red. She slid into the booth next to Liam, wrapping her arm around his possessively. She looked directly at me, her eyes glittering with triumph.

"I'm Sarah," she said, extending a hand she had no intention of me shaking. "Liam's girlfriend."