Chapter 2

That evening, I joined my coworkers for happy hour. In the past, I never would have gone.

Ethan hated me dining out.

His contamination anxiety was so intense that every time I came home from a restaurant, I had to immediately strip down, bag my clothes, and take a scalding antiseptic shower before I was allowed anywhere near him.

Now, there was no need.

When I stepped out of the bistro, I spotted Ethan's car idling at the curb.

"Did you drive out here just to pick me up?"

"Of course. Who else?" He clicked the door unlock.

A tiny flicker of warmth brushed my chest, but the very next second, I saw Chloe sitting in the passenger seat.

She was clutching Ethan's jacket in her lap, giving me a sweet, timid smile.

"Why is she here?"

Ethan answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "She had a follow-up appointment this evening."

"It was on the way, so we swung by to grab you."

On the way. Right.

Not long after we pulled into traffic, Chloe reached into the center console and pulled out a thermal travel mug.

"Ethan, time for your meds."

Ethan took it casually and swallowed his pills with a sip of water.

I stared fixedly at that mug. It was his strictly personal tumbler.

During our first year of marriage, I had taken a sip from it by mistake.

He threw the entire mug into the trash that very night.

I had cried myself to sleep over it, and he held me, explaining, "I don't think you're dirty, Serena. I just can't control my brain."

For the next three years, I never touched his cups again.

I leaned forward from the backseat and snatched the mug right out of his hand.

Ethan whipped his head around, looking completely bewildered. "What are you doing? Why are you touching my mug?"

The car fell dead quiet.

I stared at him. "She touched it too. Why didn't you snap at her?"

Chloe immediately pulled her hands back. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know no one was allowed to touch it..."

Ethan waved a hand dismissively. "It has nothing to do with you."

Then he turned an irritated glare toward me. "Her right arm is injured. It's completely normal for her to grab the wrong thing."

I turned my gaze onto Chloe. "Grab the wrong thing?"

"She pulled it right out of your private console, and she even knew the exact minute you needed to take your meds."

"You call that an accident?"

Ethan's face darkened. "What are you trying to say, Serena?"

"I'm asking: where did your germaphobia go?"

"Serena!"

Ethan slammed on the brakes. The sudden deceleration threw Chloe and me forward.

His arm shot out instantly—to shield Chloe.

My old wrist fracture banged against the front seat, sending a jolt of white-hot agony through my arm. I clenched my teeth, pressing my left hand hard against the swelling joint, refusing to utter a single sound.

Chloe's eyes welled with tears. "This is all my fault."

"Ethan, just drive Serena home. I can take an Uber to the hospital myself."

Ethan slammed his palms against the steering wheel, turning around to roar at me, "She's already in so much pain! Why do you have to pick a fight over every little damn thing?!"

I looked at Ethan, drew in a long, shaky breath to steady my trembling body, and pushed the door open.

"Take her to the hospital."

"I'll walk."

His expression turned ugly. "Serena, stop throwing a tantrum!"

I didn't turn around.

When I got home, I immediately gathered my toiletries from the master bathroom.

I hauled everything into the guest room. When I came back for my pillow, Ethan walked through the front door.

"What are you doing?"

"Sleeping in separate rooms."

"Over what happened tonight?"

"Yes."

His jaw clenched. "Serena, do you really have to blow everything completely out of proportion?"

Clutching my pillow to my chest, I looked at him. "Fine, I won't move."

"Kick Chloe out right now."

He fell silent, avoiding my gaze. After several long seconds, he reached out, took the pillow from my arms, and set it down on the guest bed.

"We both need a few days to cool off. It's better for everyone."

Ethan turned to leave, tossing over his shoulder, "If you would just stop targeting Chloe, we wouldn't be fighting at all."

I stood in the doorway, watching him in silence.

"Ethan."

"What if, from now on, I never interfere with you and her again?"

A visible wave of relief washed over his face. "Wouldn't that be for the best?"

I nodded slowly. "Okay."

The door clicked shut. I immediately pulled out my phone and messaged my lawyer.

"You can draw up the divorce papers now."

The attorney replied almost instantly: "Are you certain, Mrs. Miller?"

I looked around the sterile guest room that my husband had just made up for me with his own hands.

"I'm certain."