Chapter 3

He froze, his eyes darting away, unable to hold my gaze.

After a long pause, he forced a strained smile.

"Chloe, you know I'm not ready for marriage right now. The company just went public, there's so much to handle..."

The answer had always been obvious. Why did I have to humiliate myself?

I masked the cold ache in my chest with a dry chuckle.

"I know. Just kidding," I cut him off, not wanting to hear the same tired excuses.

It wasn't that he didn't want to get married. He just didn't want to marry "me".

The realization carved through my heart like a dull blade, sawing back and forth.

I should have seen it long ago.

From how he always dodged taking photos with me, to how he never introduced me to his family, to how he forever introduced me as his secretary.

The signs were always there. I had just chosen to be blind.

"So, what do you actually want?"

He looked visibly relieved, asking eagerly, "Shares? A cash bonus? Name anything."

I shook my head. "We'll talk when you get back."

Turning back to the bedroom, I started packing luggage.

His, and mine.

A barrage of texts buzzed on my phone, predictably from Rachel.

[Chloe, Ethan’s leaving tomorrow. Make sure you pack the new shirts I bought him today.]

[My taste is pretty great, right? Ethan looks so much younger in them.]

[Chloe, leave buying his clothes to me from now on. You're not as indispensable as everyone says—at least, you couldn't keep your man.]

I had bought almost every piece of clothing Ethan owned.

Yet looking into the closet now, there were indeed several new designer outfits.

In the pocket of one jacket, there were even a few unopened condoms.

I knew Rachel had deliberately left them there for me to find, marking her territory.

I didn't react. I just blocked her number.

I went back to packing my things.

After seven years, what belonged to me was pathetically little. It barely filled a single suitcase.

Just like my place in Ethan's life—easily emptied at a moment's notice.

When I reached the few evening gowns he had bought me, my hand hesitated.

He had bought those before the annual gala last year, personally taking me shopping for once.

"Chloe, you look stunning in this," he had said with a smile, fixing my collar with his own hands.

Looking back, that was nothing more than an executive rewarding a high-performing employee.

It had nothing to do with the tenderness I had imagined.

Just as I zipped up my suitcase, I heard him taking a call in the home office.

"Ethan, are you seriously proposing to Rachel tomorrow? What about Chloe? Can you really just let her go?"

"Of course I can't. That's why you guys need to keep your mouths shut. Don't let her find out."

"Man, you really have it all. The dream girl and the devoted partner, holding onto both."

"Devoted partner? Please, she doesn't hold a candle to Rachel. She's just the one who can't live without me."

...

I stood frozen in the hallway, nailed to the floor.

Listening to the man I had loved for ten years dismiss my devotion so casually.

No affection. Only thinly veiled contempt.

However long he talked, that was how long I stood there listening.

Every single word cut into me like a dull saw until the pain turned completely numb.

An old college photo slipped out from a book on the shelf.

In the picture, I was standing next to Ethan, smiling like an idiot.

And Ethan was looking past the camera lens, as if searching the crowd for someone else.

Now I knew. He was looking for Rachel.

Even when Rachel was studying abroad, even when I stayed by his side through every agonizing, rock-bottom moment...

His heart had never, for a single second, belonged to me.

I tossed the photo straight into the trash can.

Right alongside seven years of my youth and love.

The next morning, when I woke up, Ethan was already gone.

Only a sticky note was left on the counter: "Chloe, wait for me to come back."

I picked up the note, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it in the trash.

Pulling my suitcase to the front door, I took one last look around the home we had shared for years.

From the rented studio to this purchased house, I thought we were building a home brick by brick.

Only now did I realize it was nothing more than my own private fantasy.

My phone rang with a text from Ethan.

[Chloe, I forgot the client's gift at home. Find it for me and have it delivered to this address.]

I didn't need to ask. I knew it was the ring.

Still, I called a local courier to pick it up and deliver it, then flagged down a cab to the airport.

On the way, I sent Ethan one final text:

[Ethan, we're over.]