Chapter 3

I wandered the streets for two hours.

My phone buzzed repeatedly with messages from Tyler.

"When are you coming home?"

"Amber's already here. You're not home, and she's asking where you went."

"Maya, stop playing games. That's enough."

The last one was a voice note.

I tapped to listen. His voice carried an arrogant chuckle.

"Alright, alright, my bad for pissing you off. Just come home. I saved you some food."

It was past nine when I finally walked back into the apartment.

The moment I pushed the door open, a wave of noise washed over me.

The TV was blaring a late-night talk show, the audience howling with laughter.

Takeout containers and empty boba cups cluttered the coffee table.

Tyler and Amber were sitting side by side on the sofa.

Amber had her bare feet kicked up on the coffee table, her toenails painted a bright, seductive red.

Tyler’s arm was draped casually across the back of the couch behind her.

From where I stood, it looked entirely like he was wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

Hearing the door, Amber turned around first.

Seeing me, she flashed a sweet, innocent smile.

"Hey Maya! You're finally back!"

She wore an oversized white knit sweater, her hair spilling over her shoulders, her makeup flawless.

Tyler turned his head too, glanced at me, and pointed toward the mess on the table.

"Great, you're back. Clean this up, will you?"

I stood rooted to the spot.

I slipped off my shoes, set my bag on the console table, and walked into the living room.

Amber watched me with a warm, crescent-eyed smile.

"Maya, since you weren't home for dinner, Tyler ordered delivery. There was so much food, we couldn't finish it."

"Are you hungry? There are some leftovers."

I glanced at her, then turned my gaze to Tyler.

"I'm not hungry," I said. "Clean up your own trash."

The room instantly went dead silent.

The TV hosts were still cracking jokes, but their canned laughter sounded painfully grating in the quiet room.

Tyler’s face darkened completely.

"Maya, say that again."

"I said, clean up your own trash."

He slammed his palm down onto the coffee table.

"Are you out of your f*cking mind?"

He didn't yell, but every single word burned with fury.

"I invited Amber over for dinner tonight. You gave me attitude and walked out, and now you come back acting like a total bitch?"

"Maya, have I spoiled you so much that you think you can walk all over me?"

Amber reached out, gently tugging at his sleeve.

"Tyler, don't be mad. Maya probably just had a bad day."

Tyler took a deep breath, fighting down his temper.

"Fine. Maya, tell me right now—what is this tantrum about?"

His tone shifted from rage to an interrogation.

"Is it because I didn't come home last night?"

"Or are you pissed off because Amber is here? Say something!"

I looked at him. I looked at the man I had loved with all my heart for three whole years.

When he pursued me three years ago, he waited outside my dorm every single morning with breakfast.

When I had a fever, he skipped class to sit by my side in the clinic, holding my hand for three hours straight.

Was any of that real?

Or was it all just an act to win a stupid bet?

"Tyler," I whispered.

"I might be in a bad mood, but I am not cleaning this up."

His patience finally snapped.

He bolted to his feet, kicking the coffee table so hard it skidded across the hardwood floor.

Amber shrank back in fright, but didn't say a word. She just sat there quietly, watching us.

Tyler marched right up to me, towering over me.

"I am going to say this one last time," he growled through gritted teeth. "Clean this mess up, and then go pour me a glass of water."

I looked straight into his eyes. There was only anger and irritation in them. Not a single trace of affection.

"No."

*SLAP!*

He swung his right hand and struck me across the face.