Chapter 2

He spun around so fast that his arm jerked away from Valerie's waist like an electric shock.

The bouquet in Valerie's hands trembled, sending several petals scattering onto the pavement.

"Chloe? What are you doing here? Weren't you supposed to be at work?"

His voice was laced with irritation, as if my very presence were an offense.

I didn't answer. I just stared at the crushed petals on the ground.

Then I looked up at the flowers in Valerie's arms.

"I thought you hated romantic nonsense?"

"So what is this?"

Derek’s face froze for a second before slipping back into the calm, practical mask I had known for six years.

"I was just holding these for Valerie. Don't overthink it."

When he said that, his eyes darted to the right.

"And your hand around her waist?"

"She tripped. I was just catching her."

"Do you always kiss someone on the forehead when you catch them?"

Derek went dead silent for a beat. Then, he took a step forward, trying to grab my hand.

I took a step back.

His hand hovered awkwardly in the air before he pulled it back.

"Chloe, let me explain. It’s really not what you think."

Valerie finally spoke up from the side.

"Chloe, seriously, it’s nothing. We just bumped into each other, and he was helping me hold the flowers."

When she called me Chloe, her voice was soft and gentle, just like it had always been.

In the past, hearing her call my name warmed my heart.

Now, it made bile rise in my throat.

"Valerie, I saw the whole thing with my own eyes."

I stared straight into her face.

"He walked out of his office with his arm around your waist. He kissed your forehead and gave you the flowers. You two walked down the entire block clinging to each other."

"You call that 'nothing'?"

The color drained from Valerie's face.

She instinctively glanced at Derek.

That single, terrified look was more honest than any excuse they could ever make.

Derek was still scrambling for control.

"Chloe, calm down. We’re in public. Stop making a scene."

Stop making a scene.

For six years, I never made a scene.

When he gave me nothing on Valentine’s Day, I didn't make a scene.

When there was no cake on my birthday, I didn't make a scene.

When he proposed with a lazy, half-assed sentence, I didn't make a scene.

He was so used to my quiet compliance that he thought I would swallow this, too.

"I'm not making a scene."

I held out the gift bag in front of him.

"Here. Happy sixth anniversary."

He looked down at it, refusing to take it.

"There are matching rings inside. I bought them because you couldn't even be bothered to get one when you proposed."

"We were supposed to take our engagement photos this weekend. I just canceled the session."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away.

Derek called my name from behind.

I didn't look back.

When I got back to our rented apartment, it was four in the afternoon.

I sat on the couch without turning on the lights.

On the coffee table sat the matching mugs we bought together just last week.

Back then, I had found it sweet and cozy.

My phone buzzed relentlessly. Derek had sent over a dozen texts.

I didn't read any of them. I just flipped the phone face-down on the table.

I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts tangled into a knot.

Six years.

Derek and I had been together for six whole years.

We were college sweethearts, meeting during a campus club event in our sophomore year.

He wasn't much of a talker, and his looks were plain.

But he made me feel secure.

My parents had a terrible marriage. They fought constantly, screaming at each other every day of my childhood. Home was a never-ending warzone.

So when I grew up, I looked for only one quality in a man: steady, honest, reliable.

Derek seemed so honest.

He didn't smoke, didn't drink, never went out clubbing, and his social media was completely clean.

In six years, I had never seen him flirt with another woman.

At least, that was what I believed.

Valerie was my best friend. We had been in the same class since elementary school, and we went to high school and college in the same city.

Three years ago, on my birthday, I threw a dinner party with a table full of friends. I invited both Valerie and Derek.

That was the first time they officially met.

I remembered that during that dinner, Valerie and Derek barely exchanged a word.

It turned out that right after that dinner, they had hooked up.

Three years.

For three whole years, they had been sleeping together behind my back.

No wonder Valerie was always "too busy" on specific weekends.

No wonder Derek's business trips always aligned with Valerie's romantic dates.

No wonder every time Valerie described her boyfriend's extravagant surprises, I thought to myself that it sounded nothing like Derek.

Because Derek never acted like that with me.

He reserved all his romance exclusively for Valerie.

Sitting on this couch we had picked out together, I suddenly felt that every inch of this apartment was filthy.

The couch was filthy, the mugs were filthy, the bed was filthy.

The front door clicked open. Two people walked in.