Chapter 3

She blinked.

"Because he thinks I don't matter." I smiled faintly. "But you're the same. Don't flatter yourself. You're just a mirror he uses to prove how important he is. And I know you're the anonymous obsessive fan account that's been harassing me every night."

The team's promo posts and Joe's personal Instagram featured training footage—and Natalie happened to be in the frame. Over time, people who didn't know any better started shipping them, convinced Joe and Natalie were a perfect match, meant to be together.

Somewhere along the way, my phone started getting strange messages. All of them pushing the Natalie-and-Joe ship.

The sender always showed off to me, dumping piles of photos of Joe and Natalie. Sometimes the two of them in a car. Sometimes Natalie clutching Joe's clothes on the sidelines, waiting for him. But barely anyone knew Joe and I were married. Content that pointed, that specific—who else could it be from but Natalie?

Natalie's face finally changed.

"You—"

"Save it. I'll give you two my blessing." I cut her off. "Don't come back. I'm not short on nutrition. I'm short on peace and quiet."

I shut the door before she could get another word out, ignoring the shouting from the other side.

That afternoon, Selena came to pick me up.

She parked two streets over. I loaded a cardboard box into the trunk—full of old photos of Joe and me, little keepsakes soaked in memories.

"Lawyer says three weeks, tops." Selena lowered her voice. "You sure you want to walk away with nothing?"

"I don't want his money." I said. "I just want it over fast."

Selena looked at me and sighed. "You didn't used to be like this. You used to cry when he lost a game."

"Yeah." I stared out the window. "I used to think he was my whole world. Now I'm tired. The world's got more than one man in it."

"He's the most valuable player in the country right now. Walk away from him—what are you gonna do?"

I didn't answer. Maybe everyone thought I couldn't survive without him. But I knew my own strength. Maybe leaving him was the best way to save myself.

Selena started the car. "Natalie show up again today?"

"Mm. Brought nutrition meals. And showed off her family travel clearance."

"Shameless." Selena sneered, spun the wheel sharp. "Vivian, good for you. Remember—just because someone else picks up what you threw away doesn't make it treasure. Trash is trash."

I laughed. It was the first real laugh I'd had in a while.

When I got home, Joe was already there.

He was on the couch, flipping through a folder I'd left under the coffee table.

My heart stopped. Had he found the divorce papers?

I rushed over. When I saw what was inside, I relaxed. Just old documents I'd sorted for the move. I went into the bedroom. The divorce agreement was still hidden in the closet, untouched. I let out a long breath.

"Insurance policies." I said. "I wanted to organize the household files."

Joe glanced at me. Didn't seem suspicious. He tossed the folder back on the table and pulled me down beside him.

"Vivian, I know I've been neglecting you lately." His voice was low. "After this season, I'll take you to Europe. We'll see Paris, London, Munich. You've always wanted to go, haven't you?"

More of those empty promises, meant to soothe but with no end date in sight. I looked at his face, so close, and suddenly it felt like a stranger's.

"Joe." I said. "Do you remember last Thanksgiving?"

He froze.

"Last Thanksgiving, you said the team had an important game. You couldn't come home."

His eyes went blank, like he couldn't place it at all.

But it was a memory I hated with every fiber of my being. Just recalling it made me tremble.

I miscarried on Thanksgiving—lost the baby we'd only had for a few weeks. The day of the surgery, no one answered the phone.

I was going to tell Joe I was pregnant when he came home. He never came home. Our baby was gone before I could.

After the procedure, I saw Natalie's Instagram post: Joe at the training facility cafeteria, two meals on the table, her sitting across from him. Caption: Overtime nutritionist and the quarterback. Thanks for the feed, Captain.

I swallowed every bit of it.

And not just that. The Christmas before. Joe said he was flying out for an away game. I drove him to the airport. Three days later, his fans photographed him at a Nashville restaurant, dining alone with Natalie. I asked him about it. He snapped that it was a team dinner.

And so many other times... Looking at his blank expression, I knew. He didn't remember.

I pulled my hand from his. "Joe, I believed every promise you made." But what I didn't say was: And you never kept a single one.

Not wanting a blowout fight before I left, I stood up quietly, walked into the bedroom, and shut the door.

Long silence outside. I leaned against the door and heard him make a call.

"Natalie, where are you? I need to see you. I have questions."