Chapter 3

I didn't look at her stomach.

My gaze fell on her right wrist.

A bracelet.

The one my grandmother passed down to me. I thought Ethan had sold it for treatment money.

Now it rested securely around another woman's wrist.

Luna followed my gaze and unhurriedly touched the bracelet.

"Oh, this? Ethan gave it to me. He said it's an antique and told me to be careful with it."

I stared at the bracelet for three seconds.

"He's right. It is an antique. Be careful not to break it."

I turned and left.

I rented a small apartment and moved out of what used to be my home that very night.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I opened my phone's photo album.

I touched his smiling face on the screen with my thumb, then placed the phone face-down on the bed.

Something cracked open in my chest.

I pressed my hand against it, not letting any sound escape my throat.

On the third day, Ethan asked me to meet at a coffee shop.

When he walked in, I was already sitting in the corner, the Americano in front of me untouched.

He sat down and pushed a document toward me.

"Sign it. You get five hundred thousand. That's enough."

I laughed coldly.

"I sold my family heirlooms and gave you $600,000 total. You're dismissing me with five hundred thousand."

He frowned.

"Those old things of yours were appraised and aren't worth that much..."

"Grandma's bracelet—you had Luna wear it on her wrist. And my mother's ring too."

His fingers tapped the table twice. For a moment he avoided my eyes.

He glanced out the window, then quickly looked back.

"The past is past. Sign. I'm not shortchanging you."

I didn't sign.

As I stood to leave, I left the untouched Americano behind.

"I'll think about it some more."

He called out behind me.

"Melody Harper, are you reluctant to let go of this marriage, or just your pride? People already know you're singing at nightclubs. Your students' parents will hear about it sooner or later. When that happens, you won't even be able to teach. Have you thought about the consequences?"

I stopped, my back to him.

"Are you threatening me?"

Two seconds of silence. He didn't answer.

I pushed the door open and left.

That night Fiona booked five rooms.

By the third room my voice was already hoarse. I sipped some honey water and continued.

Fiona leaned against the backstage doorframe watching me.

"If you don't rest that voice, you won't even be able to speak clearly, let alone sing."

"Fiona, how many more rooms today?"

The fourth room was full of Ethan's friends.

Someone recognized me. They raised their glass halfway, then stopped, whispering to the person next to them.

Then came a knowing laugh.

I gripped the microphone tighter and finished the entire song.

As I left the room, my knees buckled. I braced myself against the hallway wall.

Fiona caught up and squeezed the bulging veins on the back of my hand.

"When was the last time you ate a proper meal?"

"I ate at lunch."

"You only had two pieces of toast."

She handed me a sandwich.

When I got back to the apartment in the early morning, there was a takeout bag by the door.

Inside was a burger and mushroom soup, still warm.

This was from the place Ethan always ordered from.

I picked up the mushroom soup and took a sip.

The warm liquid rolled into my stomach, wrapping the hollow space with a layer of warmth.

My eyes suddenly stung unbearably.

I set the bowl down abruptly and pressed the back of my hand hard against my eyes, holding it there for over ten seconds.

The heat subsided.

I picked up the bowl again and finished it sip by sip.

This was his cruelest trait.

When he hurt me, he was decisive and cold. But then he'd casually offer a little warmth, leaving me unable to tell which version was really him.