Chapter 2

The next morning, the real estate agent called.

"Ms. Lynn, your full payment has been received, and the contract process is complete. This apartment now officially belongs entirely to you."

"Great, thank you."

"And Mr. Green...?"

"You don't need to worry about him. The money came from me, the contract was signed by me. He has nothing to do with it."

After hanging up, Sarah handed me an iced Americano.

"Does Ethan know you have that much money?"

"No. He thinks I've spent all my salary on daily expenses these past few years."

"So that money..."

"I started taking on freelance design work right after college, pulling countless all-nighters to save it up. I planned to use it as startup capital for his business after we got married."

Sarah slammed her coffee cup onto the table. "Ashley, how much have you actually spent on him over these seven years?"

I opened my budgeting app on my phone and showed it to her.

The BMW he drove? His parents paid the down payment, and he thought the monthly car loan was only three hundred bucks.

It was actually six hundred. The other three hundred? I'd secretly transferred it to his account every month.

He loved gaming. That three-thousand-dollar Alienware computer? He thought he'd won it in a mall raffle.

Actually, I'd spent half a month's salary on it and even roped the store manager into a whole charade.

Last month, his mom was hospitalized, and they were short two thousand for the surgery. He was frantic. I gave him the money without a second thought.

Later, his mom held Chloe's hand and said, "Chloe is such a thoughtful girl, always coming to visit me at the hospital."

I stood outside the hospital room, carrying a pot of freshly made chicken soup, listening to their happy laughter inside. I turned around and dumped the soup in the trash.

And on my birthday, Ethan gave me a cheap phone case he'd picked up from a discount store, saying we were practically an old married couple already, and practicality was what mattered most.

Sarah's eyes grew redder the more she looked.

Taken individually, these might just be small disappointments.

But seven years of layered grievances had long since suffocated me.

At noon, Ethan sent a message.

"Ash, what do you want for lunch? I'll pick you up."

"I neglected you yesterday, so I'll spend the whole day with you today."

I replied: "No thanks, I'm out with Sarah."

He immediately replied: "What about tonight? I booked our favorite Thai restaurant."

My *favorite* Thai restaurant? The last time I went was three years ago.

But in those three years, he'd taken Chloe no less than five times.

I'd even seen check-in photos of that restaurant on Chloe's social media, with the man I bought the shirt for sitting across from her.

"Busy tonight too. I have plans."

Two minutes later, his call came through.

"Ash, are you still mad?" His voice had a hint of helpless amusement, like he was coaxing an unreasonable child.

"No. I really have plans."

"What could be more important than having dinner with me?" he asked back, laughing, his voice full of certainty.

He was so sure I couldn't live without him, so sure I'd always be waiting for him.

I looked at the text message that had just arrived from the property company on my phone screen and calmly said, "I'm finalizing the apartment title."