Chapter 3

I stared at that post for a long time.

In the past, I would have sprinted to the drain with red-rimmed eyes.

Even if I had to dig through the grime with my bare hands, I would have retrieved that ring.

Because to me, it was proof of Julian's love.

Now, I simply locked my phone.

I walked back into the bedroom, pulled open the nightstand drawer, and took out the burgundy velvet box that once held the ring.

Back in the living room, right in front of Julian, I tossed the empty box into the trash can.

A sharp, hollow thud sounded.

Julian tore his eyes away from the TV screen, glancing toward the bin.

He froze for a second, then stood up and walked over to me.

Looking down, a flash of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by immense relief.

He slipped an arm around my waist, pulling me against his chest.

"Chloe, you really never cease to amaze me."

His deep voice rumbled above my head, tinged with a smile.

"If you lost that ring before, you would've stayed up all night crying. Nobody could talk you down."

"Now you finally understand that things are just things. As long as I'm beside you, none of that material stuff matters."

He leaned down and kissed the space between my brows.

"My Chloe really has grown up."

I looked into his affectionate eyes.

He was always like this—inflicting the cruelest wounds with the gentlest voice.

Julian thought he was helping me build security, when in reality, he was stripping away my very instinct to love him, piece by piece.

"Yeah. It doesn't matter anymore," I said quietly.

Over the next few days, I began packing up my belongings.

My clothes, books, and all the sentimental keepsakes I once hoarded like treasure.

I packed them into boxes in batches, shipping them to the apartment I had secretly rented in the neighboring city whenever Julian was out.

I even threw the anniversary roses he gave me straight into a garbage bag.

I had originally planned to dry and preserve them forever.

Now, there was no point.

When Julian noticed a few missing decorations around the house, he just smiled and praised me.

"Finally learning to declutter? You should have thrown out that old junk a long time ago. I'll take you shopping this weekend to get new ones."

I nodded. "Okay."

On Friday evening, Summer came over again.

Standing at the second-floor landing, I heard her talking to Julian downstairs.

"Julian, this is the ultimate final test."

Summer slapped a folder onto the coffee table.

"Here's a fake deed transferring the house to my name, and two fake international flight tickets."

"If she can stay calm knowing you gave me the house and are flying abroad with me, her separation anxiety will be cured once and for all."

Julian frowned slightly, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"Summer, isn't this going too far? This house means a lot to her."

"Come on, that's exactly why we have to test her!"

Summer grabbed his arm.

"It's about locking in the results. If she can survive this, you guys will never fight over her clingy insecurities ever again. Don't you want an independent, confident wife?"

Julian went silent for a moment.

Finally, he nodded.

"Fine. One last time."

I turned back to the bedroom, pulled open the bottom drawer, and retrieved the real divorce agreement—fully signed and notarized.