Chapter 2

Matthew walked over and tried to pull Shirley into his arms, but she jerked his hand away as if she had been burned.

"I told you I got hit by a car. What, can I only skip your ex's wedding if I'm dead?"

Matthew's chest rose and fell, his jaw tight as he fought to stay calm.

"Can you be reasonable for once? Today is Tony's wedding! Do you really have to drag up the past and make everyone uncomfortable?"

Shirley's eyes locked on his, refusing to let tears fall.

"Oh, now you care about looking bad? Where was that energy two days ago when you were laughing it up with Astrid in that coffee shop, sneaking around behind your brother's back?"

Matthew froze. Then, slowly, his body relaxed, as if all the air had been knocked out of him.

He looked at Shirley's trembling lips, her whole body holding back tears, and something in his chest twisted hard.

She wasn't the type to throw tantrums. Usually, when she cried, it was soft, almost playful.

But this was real pain—and he couldn't even stay angry anymore.

With a heavy sigh, he sank back onto the couch.

"So that's it. You're jealous. You should've just said you saw us. It wasn't a big deal. We ran into each other by accident. We talked for less than ten minutes and said goodbye. That's all. I'm sorry, okay? It won't happen again. I won't see her alone anymore."

Normally, that was all it took. He'd say a few gentle words, and she'd give in, like she always had.

Smiling, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small box. Inside was a pair of diamond earrings that sparkled in the light, obviously expensive.

"This was supposed to be your birthday present," he said softly. "But I think you need it now."

Usually, gifts from him lit her up with joy.

But when Shirley saw those earrings, her tears finally spilled over. She buried her face in her arm, her whole body shaking. It felt as if someone had just shoved the last straw onto her back, crushing her completely.

She couldn't stop crying. She felt pathetic, stupid, and cheap.

Of course, she recognized them. Those earrings matched Astrid's necklace—the one Shirley had seen her wearing in the café. Astrid didn't even have pierced ears. Which meant Matthew had handed Shirley the leftovers, as if she were an afterthought.

It was humiliating, as if she were stripped naked and thrown under the blazing sun for everyone to laugh at.

Matthew tried to rub her back, his hand moving gently, but it only made the fury in her chest burn hotter.

Suddenly, she snatched the earrings and hurled them at the floor. They hit the ground and skittered across the floor. She grabbed a glass, smashed it, then started throwing anything within reach.

As though breaking things could smash the shame into dust.

Matthew's face darkened, and he shot to his feet.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Wiping her tears away, Shirley looked at him with hollow, steady eyes.

"Get out."

Her body trembled, pain searing from the wound in her leg, but all it did was feed the fire in her chest.

Matthew sucked in a sharp breath and turned as if he was about to leave. But that was when he noticed she was still in her slippers. The floor was littered with glass shards, and he didn't want her to get hurt.

His jaw clenched as he crouched down and started picking them up.

"Can you stop throwing things every time you're angry? Do you know how much this stuff costs?"

Shirley's lips curled into a bitter smile.

"Is it expensive? I bet it's not as expensive as the necklace. Don't worry. I can afford to replace it."

Matthew smirked, though he didn't stop cleaning.

"Wow. Look at you, little rich girl. Guess that explains the attitude."

Her laugh was sharp, bitter.

"Still not richer than you. At least you don't blink when you're spoiling your ex. But me? I'm supposed to fall at your feet just because you buy me something small, as if I should be grateful you even remembered me? How do you even live with yourself, getting all tangled up with Astrid while pretending to be a loyal brother to Tony? Does he know what kind of man you really are?"

Matthew froze, the glass biting into his palm as he tightened his grip. His eyes turned icy.

"Are you done yet?" His voice was flat, sharp as a blade.

The room went silent. Only their breathing filled the space, heavy and rough.

Finally, he asked, "Are you angry because I saw her, or because you think I don't spend enough on you? I tried. You never wanted it."

Shirley let out a laugh that wasn't really a laugh.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare take it. Every time I spent a dime of yours, your family looked at me as if I were some gold digger, as if I were stealing from them. If I ate one extra bite at dinner, they acted as if I'd never seen real food before. So, I didn't take your money, and now you spend it on her instead?

"Matthew, why don't you just marry your sister-in-law? You'd be the simp of simps. You probably wish you were her hoodie so you could be wrapped around her all the time, or her shadow so you could follow her everywhere."

Matthew's fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. He was shaking and barely holding it together, his chest heaving as if he might explode.

Every word between them felt like walking across a minefield—one wrong step, and everything would blow.

Outside, the breeze was gentle, but inside, the air was thick with gunpowder.

After letting out a long stream of curses, Shirley felt a wave of relief. She looked at Matthew, her eyes growing colder and more detached.

"By the way, you still owe me 7,200 bucks. Don't think I forgot."

It was clear that she was drawing a line between the two of them.

Right now, all she wanted was to sort out everything from the past and be hostile toward him, to make him feel the same hurt and humiliation she had gone through.

The air between them froze in silence. Outside, a soft breeze rustled through the trees, shaking a few leaves loose.

Seconds dragged by, one after another.

She waited for him to explode, perhaps yell back, argue, or accuse her of being unfair. Even a fight would've been fine.

At least then she'd have a reason to tell him to get the hell out of her life for good.

In some strange way, she almost looked forward to it.

But nothing happened.

After a long pause, Matthew just lowered his head, tossed the trash in his hand into the bin, and quietly cleaned up the mess on the floor until everything was spotless.

He walked past her and said in a quiet voice, "The wedding's not over. I need to go and help out. If you're not feeling well, stay home."

He then headed for the door.

"Stop right there! Pay me back!"

Her voice cracked like a whip. The thought of him going to Astrid's wedding, of all places, only poured gasoline on her rage.

She was determined to get what she wanted.

At the doorway, he froze. His friend's words came back to him from some drunken night. "When a woman starts fighting you over money, that's when she's getting ready to leave."

Leave? Not a chance!

Matthew's jaw locked. He turned his head just slightly, his voice low and sharp with ice.

"I'm not paying you back! Not now, not ever!"

The door slammed shut behind him with a thunderous bang.

Their two worlds were split clean apart.

The room was heavy with silence; it was so still that it felt lifeless, as if even the last trace of vitality had been drained away.

Shirley's hands shook where they hung at her sides. Tears slid silently down her cheeks as all the strength drained out of her body.

Four years. Could four years really change someone so much?

Matthew's time in college belonged to Astrid. Shirley had no part in that fearless, unforgettable period they had gone through. She had only been an outsider.

Was this marriage she fought so hard for ever real happiness?

No. Not even close.

Tony Ray and Astrid Dittman's wedding was the event of the year, the kind of thing everyone talked about. Meanwhile, Shirley and Matthew hadn't even had a wedding of their own. They had nothing to show for it.

She used to convince herself that weddings didn't matter, that childhood love was all she needed. Back then, she loved him so deeply she poured every dollar she had into proving it.

Now, she had nothing to show for it. No savings, no love—just the hollow feeling of having lost on both ends.