Chapter 3

She froze. Her eyes darted away, unable to meet mine.

After a long pause, she forced an awkward smile:

"Ethan, you know I'm not ready for marriage right now. The company just went public, there's so much on my plate..."

The answer had been obvious all along. Why did I have to humiliate myself?

I masked the chill in my heart with a self-deprecating smile.

"I know. Just a joke," I cut her off, not wanting to hear the same worn-out excuses.

It wasn't that she didn't want to get married; she just didn't want to marry me.

The realization carved into my chest like a dull blade, slicing over and over.

I should have seen it long ago.

The way she refused to take photos together. The way she never introduced me to her family. The way she always referred to me as her executive assistant to the outside world.

The signs were always there. I had simply chosen to be blind.

"So what do you actually want?"

She seemed visibly relieved, her tone turning eager. "More stock options? A bonus? Just name it."

I shook my head. "We'll talk when you get back."

Turning on my heel, I walked into the bedroom and started packing.

Her suitcase, and mine.

My phone vibrated repeatedly. Predictably, it was Julian.

*“Ethan, Clara's leaving on a trip tomorrow. Make sure you pack the new outfits I bought her today.”*

*“I’ve got great taste, right? Clara looks so much younger in them.”*

*“You can leave styling your boss to me from now on. You're not as capable as they say anyway—at least, you couldn't keep your woman.”*

I had bought almost all of Clara’s clothes over the years.

Sure enough, there were several new designer pieces hanging in the closet.

Tucked inside one of the coat pockets was a pack of unopened condoms.

I knew Julian left them there on purpose, a pathetic display of dominance.

I didn't bother responding. I simply blocked his number.

I went back to packing my things.

After seven years, my personal belongings were pitifully sparse. Everything fit into a single carry-on.

Just like my place in Clara’s life—easily cleared out without leaving a trace.

When my hands touched the few suits she had bought for me, I paused.

Before last year's annual gala, she had actually taken the time to go shopping with me.

"Ethan, you look incredible in this," she had said with a warm smile, personally adjusting my tie.

Now I realized that was just a boss handing out a treat to a high-performing employee.

It had nothing to do with love.

As I zipped up my suitcase, her voice drifted in from the study down the hall.

"Clara, are you really proposing to Julian tomorrow? What about Ethan? Can you really just let him go?"

"Of course I can't let him go. That's why you all need to keep your mouths shut. Don't let him find out."

"Look at you, Ms. Vance, having your cake and eating it too. Holding onto your first love while keeping your safety net."

"Safety net? He doesn't even compare to Julian. Besides, he's the one who can't live without me."

...

I stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed.

Listening to the woman I had loved for a decade dismiss my devotion so casually.

There was no affection in her tone. Only condescension.

I stood there and listened to every single word.

Each syllable felt like a dull knife sawing through my heart until everything went completely numb.

An old college photo slipped out from between the pages of a book on my nightstand.

In the picture, I was standing beside Clara, smiling like an idiot.

Her eyes, however, were gazing past the lens, searching for someone in the distance.

Now I knew. She had been looking for Julian.

Even back when Julian was studying abroad, even when I was the one pulling her through every crisis...

Her heart had never belonged to me for a single second.

I tossed the photo into the trash bin.

Along with seven years of my youth, and my love.

The next morning, when I woke up, Clara was already gone.

A yellow sticky note sat on the kitchen counter: *Ethan, wait for me to come back.*

I picked it up, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it away.

Dragging my suitcase to the front door, I took one last look at the penthouse we had shared for years.

From the cramped rental apartment to this multi-million-dollar home, I thought we were building a life together brick by brick.

Only now did I realize it was all just a solitary daydream.

My phone pinged. A text from Clara.

*“Ethan, I left the gift for the client at home. Find it for me and have it delivered to this address.”*

I didn't need to ask. I knew it was the engagement ring.

I called an on-demand courier to deliver the ring, then walked out and hailed an Uber to the airport.

On the highway, I sent Clara one final message:

*“Clara, let’s end this. We’re over.”*

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