Amanda lies on the rug, her back flat against the floor, legs bent, one foot resting lazily over the other. The late afternoon sun filters in through the sheer curtains, laying soft stripes of gold across her face, her arms, the open laptop by her side. Her phone is face-down near her head, and a sketchpad is somewhere beneath her left hip.The cats are curled up by the window—Juniper snoring, Pudding twitching in a dream. The scent in the air today is warm vanilla and fig. One of her new blends. Grace said it smells like summer in the countryside. Amanda liked that.She lifts her hand, letting it hover in the sunlight, then slowly drops it back on her stomach. Something shifts in her chest. Restless. She pulls the laptop onto her stomach and types something into the search bar.“Italy painting residency.”Then deletes it.Types: “Italy work visa for artis
The idea sends a jolt through him. He straightens abruptly, the chair rolling back with a screech. Before logic can intervene, he fires off a message to his assistant:“Monitor Amanda’s apartment. If it goes on the market, buy it immediately. No questions. No delays.”Riley stares at the sent text, thumb hovering over the screen. The weight of the request settles over him—equal parts possessive and pathetic. But the alternative—letting some stranger walk through HER rooms, touch HER walls—is unthinkable. If she is gone, he’ll at least keep the ghost of her close.---Grace kicks off her heels by the front door and drops her keys into the ceramic bowl on the shelf. The familiar clink echoes in the quiet hallway, but tonight it feels warmer than usual. The scent hits her first. Cedarwood. A soft, smoky note wrapped in something light&mda
Riley exhales, slow and heavy. The kind of breath that makes his chest feel hollow. His fingers tap against the folder, slow and steady, like a clock ticking down.Even though the others are capable, he always feels something is off. It’s the little things. Yesterday, someone scheduled a lunch meeting at the sushi place downtown. Amanda knew he only went there with clients he disliked. It was his way of keeping those meetings short. He ended up sitting across from a board member he actually respected, eating half-stale salmon, trying not to look pissed.It’s stupid. Small stuff. But it piles up. Now, everything feels out of place. His day-to-day rhythm is off. Meetings go longer. Emails pile up. He forgets things he never used to.He used to think it was just stress. Or maybe grief. But now he knows. Amanda’s leaving didn’t just take her away—it took a part of him with her.He rubs a hand over his face. His palm feels rough against his skin. Like he’s been tired for weeks, maybe month
Looking back now, I must have fallen for Amanda long before throwing away that brooch. How could I have been so blind? All the signs were there—the way Riley’s pulse quickened when Amanda laughed, the hours he spent replaying our conversations in his head, the irrational jealousy that simmered beneath his skin whenever someone else caught her attention. Yet he’d dismissed it all, stubbornly oblivious to what now seemed painfully obvious. God, what a fool I’ve been. Which of us endures the crueler marriage—Mother or me? Riley has lost someone who loved him—not for his status, his wealth, or any of the trappings that came with them, but for the man beneath it all. His mother, however, had fallen for a man with nothing to offer but a handsome face—a hollow charmer devoid of talent, dripping with false sincerity, who married her solely for her name and social standing.H
It was years ago. Back when he was in grad school. Amanda was still an undergrad. Same campus. Different lives. They were both helping with a student council project—a short promo video for the school. Riley had only agreed to join because one of his professors asked him. Amanda seemed to be there for her friends. Her friendships multiplied like wildfire, igniting connections across social boundaries with effortless charm.So of course Amanda fit right in. Everyone liked her. She was laughing with a group near the camera setup, her face bright, her voice clear in the open space. People leaned in when she spoke. They smiled wider when she looked at them.Riley stood off to the side, arms crossed, pretending to check something on his phone. He wasn’t sure why, but his chest felt tight. He watched her from a distance, his eyes following the way she moved, the way people listened to her.He already knew Amanda wa
Amanda had been so happy that day. She laughed and joked and asked to take pictures. Just a few, she said. Just for memories. Riley refused to be in them. He had a call. A meeting. Some battle with his father was boiling over again. So instead, he hired a photographer. Someone to come over and take proper pictures. For Amanda. She didn’t complain. Didn’t sulk. She smiled, nodded, and posed for the camera.Riley never asked where the photos went. But now, here it is. One of them. Saved in his phone. He doesn’t remember doing it. Doesn’t remember when. She must’ve sent it to him.But as he looks at it longer, something doesn’t sit right. He zooms in. Studies her eyes. There’s a tightness there. A glint of something behind the joy. Was it disappointment? He scrolls down. No other photos. Just that one.Riley stares at it for a long time. Then his mind starts connecting things. That