Chapter 2

Leah's POV

Ethan's brow creased slightly. Like he was only just remembering.

A flicker of guilt passed through his eyes. He reached out to pull me into his arms.

"Sorry, Leah. Everything happened so fast. Let me make it up to you tomorrow. Whatever you want. That townhouse on the Upper East Side? Or that yacht you were looking at?"

In his eyes, my hurt feelings could always be settled with money.

I used to think it was his way of showing affection. Domineering, maybe, but still love.

Now I could see it for what it actually was. A way of brushing me off.

I stepped out of reach.

Ethan's arm stiffened mid-air. His expression darkened. "Leah, don't do this."

"I'm not doing anything." I took another step back, meeting his eyes directly. "Ethan. Clara's back, isn't she?"

The air went still.

Ethan's gaze turned sharp and cold. The pressure in the room dropped.

"Who told you?"

"It was all over the news. Did I really need someone to tell me?" I set my phone down on the coffee table. "And the necklace. She's wearing the same one, isn't she? Ethan, for three years you watched me wear this around my neck. Whose face were you actually seeing?"

Ethan stared at me. His jaw tightened. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice flat and cold. "It's just a necklace. If you want more, I'll have ten different ones sent over tomorrow. Clara just got back to New York, she ran into some trouble, and I went to pick her up. That's all. Stop making a scene."

Making a scene.

I closed my eyes and swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat.

When I opened them again, my expression had gone quiet. Empty.

"Alright," I said. "I understand."

I turned and walked toward the stairs. My steps were steady. Unhesitating.

The next morning, I was woken up by my phone buzzing.

Ethan was already gone. The other side of the bed was cold. He hadn't slept in our room at all.

I picked up the phone. It was an email from one of Milan's most prestigious design institutes.

"Dear Ms. Leah, regarding the enrollment position you previously applied for, we would like to reconfirm your intentions. If you have changed your mind and wish to proceed, please respond and complete the enrollment process within fifteen days."

There was only one spot like this in the entire world.

Three months ago, I had received the acceptance letter. But at the time, Ethan had been hospitalized with a severe stomach condition, and I'd been too worried to leave.

I had stayed by his bedside day and night, and without a second thought, I had turned down this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I thought Ethan was my whole world.

Looking back now, that felt almost funny.

I leaned against the headboard and stared at the email for a long time, my finger hovering over the screen.

Then I typed out a reply:

"I accept. I will arrive on the first day of enrollment, fifteen days from now."

I hit send.

I watched the confirmation appear on the screen and let out a long, slow breath. Like I was finally releasing three years of swallowed grief and quiet resentment all at once.

Fifteen days.

In fifteen days, I would leave this place. This place that had never really been mine. For good.

I came downstairs to find Ethan already sitting in the dining room with his coffee.

He glanced up when he saw me and gestured to the seat across from him. "Have breakfast. We're going somewhere after."

I pulled out the chair and sat down without asking where. I just quietly drank my milk.

Ethan looked at me. His brow furrowed slightly.

I knew what he was thinking. Usually I'd be chattering away over breakfast, telling him something funny that happened at work, or asking about his schedule for the day.

Today I was unusually quiet. Still in a way that didn't feel normal.

"Are you still upset about last night?" Ethan set down his coffee cup, softening his tone a little.

"Clara just got back to New York and she's not familiar with how things work here yet. It's natural for a friend to help out. You're my wife, Leah. Try to be a little more understanding."

Friend.

My wife.

I laughed at that. Inwardly, where it didn't show.

"I know," I said, not looking up.

Ethan didn't seem satisfied with my response, but he let it go.