Chapter 2

"Vanessa's welcome-back dinner is tonight. You're coming with me."

Brandon stood at the bedroom door fastening his cufflinks, his tone leaving no room for debate.

I was busy tweaking a design layout and didn't even look up.

"I have drafts to finish tonight."

"How would it look if you didn't show up?"

He strode over and shut my laptop.

"What am I supposed to tell everyone if they ask?"

"Tell them I’m working overtime."

He frowned. "Chloe, can you stop making a scene?"

"The ring thing is in the past. You're my fiancée. You have to be there for occasions like this."

I looked at him, suddenly finding the whole thing pathetic.

"Fine. I’ll go."

When we arrived at the restaurant, seven or eight people were already seated in the private dining room, including Jason.

Vanessa was sitting right beside the head of the table, wearing a white dress.

The moment she saw us walk in, she stood up immediately.

"Brandon, Chloe, you made it!"

Brandon pulled out a chair for her to sit, then pulled out another for me—three seats away from Vanessa.

When the waiter handed over the menu, I flipped through and ordered a seafood chowder, my go-to dish whenever I came here.

Vanessa leaned over to look at the menu, then suddenly covered her mouth.

"What's wrong?"

Brandon tensed up instantly.

Vanessa blinked, looking utterly contrite.

"My skin has been breaking out badly lately. The doctor told me to stay away from seafood. I'm so sorry, I'm being such a burden."

She glanced at me.

"Chloe, please don't mind me. I didn't mean to ruin it."

Brandon’s face darkened immediately. He turned to the waiter.

"Cancel the seafood chowder."

I looked up. "I ordered that."

"Vanessa is allergic. How is she supposed to eat with seafood on the table?"

His tone was clipped and impatient. "Order something else."

"If she's allergic, she doesn't have to eat that dish. There are a dozen plates on this table; it's not all seafood."

Brandon slammed his fork onto the table, snapping in front of everyone,

"Can't you show a little consideration for someone else? Vanessa came all this way back from abroad. Do you have to be so petty?"

The room fell dead silent.

Jason cleared his throat twice to smooth things over.

"Alright, alright, just swap it for another dish. Chloe, just be the bigger person."

I looked at Jason, then at Brandon’s furious expression.

"Fine. Change it."

The seafood chowder was taken away. Vanessa lowered her head, murmuring, "Thank you, Brandon," a faint, barely perceptible smirk playing on her lips.

As the night went on, the mood picked up. After a few drinks, Jason started hyping up the room.

"Brandon, Vanessa’s been overseas for three years, and you two haven't seen each other once. Since this is her welcome dinner, you two have to do an arm-locked toast, right?"

Vanessa waved her hands frantically. "No, no, Chloe is right here. That would be so awkward."

Jason grinned. "Chloe doesn't mind, right? We're all friends here."

Everyone turned their eyes on me.

I held my glass of iced tea and said nothing.

Brandon hesitated for two seconds, then raised his glass, hooked his arm through Vanessa’s, and downed the drink.

Vanessa blushed, looking down with a radiant smile.

The room erupted into cheers and applause.

I took a sip of my tea. It had gone cold, tasting bitter and flat.

Something inside me completely burned out at that moment.

No anger. No tears. Just the hollow calm of dust finally settling.

When the dinner ended and we walked out of the restaurant, Vanessa grabbed Brandon’s sleeve.

"Brandon, thank you so much for tonight. Let me take you out to lunch sometime."

Brandon patted the back of her hand. "Don't mention it. Call me whenever you need anything."

I stood three paces away, waiting quietly for them to finish.

On the drive home, Brandon kept his eyes on the road. After a long silence, he spoke up.

"What was with that attitude tonight? You sat there with a stone-cold face the entire time. What are my friends supposed to think?"

"My face wasn't stone-cold."

"Jason told me you barely acknowledged him when he talked to you. You made my fiancée look completely uncultured."

I leaned against the window, watching the streetlights streak backward into the dark.

"It won't happen again."

Assuming I was backing down, Brandon’s tone softened.

"That's better. The wedding is next week. There will be bigger events in the future. You need to learn how to carry yourself."

I didn't argue, nor did I answer.

When the car pulled into our building's driveway, I stepped out first and walked ahead.

Brandon called out behind me, "Wait up."

I didn't stop. I walked straight into the elevator.

When he caught up, he chuckled, remarking that my temper was getting worse by the day.

I looked at my reflection in the elevator doors, completely expressionless.

I will never embarrass you again, Brandon.

Because you will never see me at one of those dinners again.