Chapter 3

After showering, I sat blankly against the headboard in the main bedroom.

Rain poured down outside, a heavy, relentless storm.

At first, I instinctively thought about going to pick her up. I even changed clothes, but then it hit me—I was being ridiculous again.

I grabbed my phone, intending to call her, but her number appeared first.

“Carter, just go to bed. Don’t wait for me tonight,” Madelyn slurred before hanging up.

Her tone and the sudden disconnection confirmed it. I knew exactly where she was.

To punish myself, I called Carter Hayes on video.

He picked up instantly.

The screen was almost entirely dark, but the unmistakable sounds of labored breathing filtered through.

Carter chuckled softly, his voice laced with smugness. “Evan, I’m busy right now. Let’s talk later, okay?”

The call ended before I could say anything, and my hand froze, unable to redial.

Moments later, a breaking news alert popped up on my phone.

I opened it and saw headlines about Carter Hayes:

“Carter Hayes and Madelyn Grant’s Love Story Takes Center Stage!”

Photos of their kiss from the gala splashed across the screen, accompanied by paragraphs of glowing praise.

Comments flooded in, full of blessings for their “eternal happiness” and hopes for a “beautiful family.”

I laughed bitterly, staring at the images for an eternity.

At that moment, I could no longer lie to myself—Madelyn and Carter, indeed, were a perfect match.

She is the head of Grant Enterprises.

He is a rising star in Hollywood.

They are a stunning couple.

And me? Just a nobody.

Carter’s social media was filled with new posts—everyone cozy, intimate photos of Madelyn accompanied by flirtatious captions.

I felt like a clown, obsessively watching my wife flaunt her relationship with another man.

As dawn broke, a message from Madelyn appeared on my phone:

“Carter, I’m craving Eleanor’s Classic Chicken, Rice Soup, and Sammy’s Buttermilk Biscuits. Bring them to the office for me.”

This was her way of making peace.

Whenever we fought, and I couldn’t calm her down, she would do this—send me an order she knew I’d fulfill.

In the past, these small gestures would have thrilled me. I’d have stayed awake all night, excited to win her back.

But now? I hesitated for a long time before finally deciding to see her.