Chapter 2

When I returned home after two days in the hospital, Wallace was already back from the trip.

He handed me an elegantly wrapped box, his voice taking on that familiar, coaxing softness.

"Taking Emma on that trip was just my way of making up for the past. I never really gave her anything when we were together, so I wanted to make up for it. Besides, I brought you a local specialty as a souvenir."

He opened the box, releasing the sweet aroma of freshly baked lavender shortbread. Then he picked up a piece and held it to my lips.

"I kept the trip from you because I knew you'd overthink things, and I didn't want you to get upset. You have to trust me, honey. You're the only one I love. I swear I'll cut Emma out of my life from now on."

His expression was as tender as ever, but looking at that familiar face made nausea churn in my stomach. I was severely allergic to lavender, so it was obvious who he'd really bought the shortbread for.

I felt utterly disappointed, unwilling to deal with him anymore.

"I believe you," I said flatly. "I'm not hungry right now. Put it away."

Wallace didn't seem to notice anything wrong. Instead, he visibly relaxed, apparently relieved that I'd accepted his explanation.

A second later, his phone rang, and I caught a glimpse of the screen.

The caller ID was listed as Emmy.

That was intimate and ironic. My own contact was saved under my full name, as if I were just another business acquaintance.

Wallace glanced at me before hastily offering an excuse. "I've already made everything clear to Emma. She must be calling because something urgent came up."

But as soon as he answered, his expression changed.

The longer he listened, the darker his face grew. Then he switched on the speakerphone and held it out toward me.

Emma's tearful voice filled the room.

"Miley, I'm sorry, but those photos were the last memories I had left. How could you tear them all to pieces?"

"What photos?" I blurted out, genuinely confused.

"Weren't you the one who picked up that package?" Wallace demanded, narrowing his eyes. "I handed it straight to Emma without even opening it."

I let out a cold laugh.

Whenever I collected packages for Wallace, I was simply doing him a favor. I never bothered to check what he'd ordered, much less what was inside.

"So, you just decided it had to be me?" I asked. "Why couldn't Emma have staged the whole thing herself? Do you really think I'm that vindictive?"

Wallace didn't answer, but the accusation in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. The whole situation was so absurd that I almost wanted to laugh.

"So, what now?" I asked bitterly. "How are you going to make it up to Emma this time?"

He avoided my gaze, his answer cold and matter-of-fact.

"If you damage someone else's belongings, you have to make it right. Don't you have that little silver pendant? Emma just got back from the Alps, and she's still exhausted.

"She hasn't been sleeping well, either. Let her borrow it for a few days. Maybe having it with her will help her feel secure and sleep better."

The words cut deeper than I could have imagined.

When I was little, I'd been sick so often that my father had made a long journey up a mountain to pray for my health at a small church. He'd returned with a silver pendant he'd brought back especially for me.

He told me that wearing it would protect me, keeping me healthy and safe throughout my life. If I ever lost it, misfortune would follow.

When Wallace first heard the story, he'd laughed.

"I didn't realize your family was so superstitious."

Yet when it came to Emma, he was suddenly willing to believe in anything that might bring her comfort.

"No way." I clutched the pendant protectively.

Wallace reached for my hand and snatched it away before I could react. He was much stronger than I was, and I couldn't stop him.

"Hey, give it back!" I cried. "You know how much this means to me!"

Hearing my protest over the phone, Emma immediately broke into a tearful, trembling voice. "If Miley doesn't want to lend it to me, then forget it. It's my fault for asking. What's not meant for me will never be mine."

"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" Wallace snapped at me. "She's only borrowing it for a few days, but you're acting as though she's trying to steal it.

"Emma's kind enough to let this go, but I can't just ignore the fact that you destroyed her photos. You need to learn that the world doesn't revolve around you."

Before I could respond, he dropped the pendant to the floor and brought his heel down on it.

The sharp crack of breaking metal pierced the silence. Tears streamed down my face, but Wallace merely turned away, looking irritated.

"Why are you crying? You're the one who did something wrong. Honestly, I'm exhausted by these tantrums of yours."

I stared at him in disbelief. He had just destroyed the most precious thing I owned, yet somehow, I was still the one at fault.

"Since you've made such a mess of things, I'll find my own way to make it up to Emma," he added.

Then he walked out without a backward glance, leaving me standing there, numb and motionless.

I'd always been quick to cry.

In the past, whenever tears spilled down my cheeks, Wallace would panic and fumble for a tissue, wiping them away as though he couldn't bear to see me hurt.

He would pull me into his arms and whisper, "Every time you cry, I'll be right here to comfort you."

Now I raised my hand and wiped my tears away myself.

If my tears no longer meant anything to him, then there was no point in shedding them for him anymore.

Just then, my phone chimed with a notification. It was the confirmation of my flight to Montana, departing at dawn tomorrow.

From now on, I would never wait for Wallace again.