Chapter 4

I pulled out my phone and dialed my director at corporate.

"Mr. Davis, is that transfer to the West Coast regional branch still open?"

His response came immediately: "How soon can you relocate?"

"As soon as humanly possible."

The very next morning, I boarded a cross-country flight with nothing but my essential documents and a carry-on bag.

Everything else, I left behind.

While my plane was taking off, Ethan was accompanying Chloe to her first ultrasound.

He glanced down at his phone. Still no calls, no messages from me.

We had fought before in the past.

During our worst argument, I was angry enough to check into a hotel for two days.

Yet on the second evening, I still couldn't resist texting him: Your stomach meds are on the second shelf in the study. Don't forget to take them after dinner.

This time, there was absolute silence.

Chloe noticed his distracted expression. "Are you worried about Serena?"

"No."

Ethan locked his phone screen. "A few days away to cool off will do her good."

"Once you and the baby are settled in a clinic, I'll go bring her home."

They had been married for three years. People didn't just throw away a marriage over a single mistake.

Besides, he had already agreed that Chloe wouldn't live with them permanently.

Once her anger passed, everything would go back to normal.

When they returned to the apartment, Chloe placed the ultrasound report on the coffee table.

She was in high spirits, eagerly reaching out to take Ethan's suit jacket. "Are you tired, Ethan? Let me give you a shoulder rub."

She stepped behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders.

Ethan's entire body seized up with an overwhelming sense of revulsion.

Serena used to do this all the time.

Whenever he returned from work exhausted, Serena loved wrapping her arms around his neck from behind.

He would complain out loud that she was carrying outside germs, yet he would stand perfectly still, letting her hold him until she had her fill, before gently nudging her toward the shower.

Chloe's hands began sliding toward the nape of his neck.

Ethan stood up abruptly, breaking away. "No thanks."

The apartment was filled with all the same furniture, but an unbearable irritation clawed at his chest. Nothing felt right.

That night, he went into the guest room looking for a file.

Pulling open the top drawer, his eyes landed on a massive unopened package of disposable underwear.

He remembered how Serena had stared blankly at that box when he brought it home a month ago.

In the end, she had smiled and comforted him instead. Now, seeing it sitting there felt like a slap in the face.

He paced back and forth across the room, unable to soothe the frantic restlessness in his chest.

Ethan finally admitted to himself: he missed Serena.

He missed her desperately. He needed to get her back.

Based on his past experience, no matter how furiously Serena yelled at him, no matter how deep her anger ran, Ethan was confident he could coax her back into his arms.

Because he believed, without a shadow of a doubt, that Serena still loved him.

He pulled out his phone to text her, the screen illuminating the smug, hopeful grin on his face in the dark room.

I've cleaned up the apartment.

He stared at it, then deleted it.

He typed out another line: Haven't you thrown your tantrum long enough? I'm coming to pick you up.

He deleted that, too.

He spent nearly an hour carefully choosing his words, writing a long, heartfelt paragraph, editing and polishing every sentence.

Reading over his sincere apology, he felt a wave of satisfaction.

Everything would return to how it was.

After all, his infidelity was just an accidental lapse in judgment.

He truly believed he was merely fulfilling an obligation to his savior. Compared to men who cheated out of sheer lust, his actions were far more forgivable.

He hit send.

A red exclamation point flashed instantly onto the screen: Message failed to deliver. You have been blocked.

The smile on Ethan's face froze. He tried sending it again.

Another red exclamation point.

Ethan stood up in pure disbelief. In his reality, this was simply impossible.