Chapter 2

By the time I finished the revisions, I was the only person left in the office.

I opened my phone and saw the Instagram photo Chloe had just posted.

She and Nathan were sitting on the terrace of our wedding venue. He was holding a dessert spoon to her lips, feeding her a bite of cake.

It was the wedding cake tasting I had rescheduled twice to accommodate his schedule.

The caption read:

It feels so good having someone to share a wedding cake tasting with.

The comments were already filling up.

People said they looked perfect together. Others asked when they could attend the wedding.

Chloe replied with a bashful, covered-mouth emoji.

Nathan liked the post.

Neither of them offered an explanation.

In the past, I would have called him and demanded to know what was going on. He would have accused me of making a big deal out of nothing, then given me the silent treatment for several days to teach me how to be “more understanding.”

This time, the only thing I noticed was that the lemon cake had been replaced with Chloe’s favorite chocolate flavor.

I updated the menu, sent the revised plan to the team chat, shut down my computer, and went home.

The moment I stepped through the door, Nathan called.

“Emma, I got the revisions. Thanks for taking care of them,” Chloe said with a laugh. “We picked the cake for you, too. You should come try it sometime.”

“What are you thanking her for?” Nathan said in the background. “It was her job.”

“But she’s still the bride. You should be nicer to her.”

She giggled and asked Nathan to finish the rest of her cake for her.

I waited until they were done before asking, “Is there anything else that needs to be changed?”

Nathan took the phone.

“No, that’s everything. See? When you cooperate like you did today, everyone’s happy.”

I set my keys down without answering.

He didn't seem to care.

“I’ll be home soon. Get some rest.”

“Soon” usually meant four or five hours.

In the past, I would have left the lights on and waited for him to come home, even if all we did was share a late meal and exchange a few words.

This time, I went straight to the bedroom and continued packing.

The pregnancy journal was still open on my nightstand.

On the first page, Nathan had written down my due date himself. Every appointment after that, however, had been recorded in my handwriting alone.

I closed the journal and placed it in a box with the tiny baby shoes.

Three days left.

Nathan had ordered me to hand over all our clients and active projects to Chloe before the final rehearsal.

“You should go home and get ready for the wedding and the baby,” he had said. “Once you’ve gotten yourself under control, we can talk about whether you’re coming back to the company.”

He had said it with complete confidence, certain I wouldn't dare refuse.

Instead, I submitted my resignation effective that day, confirmed the handover schedule, and accepted another job.

Once the rehearsal was over, I would be gone.

I opened my laptop and video-called Rachel.

She was the creative director of an event design firm in Seattle. She had offered me a position two years earlier, but I turned it down because Nathan insisted the company couldn't function without me.

Over the years, I had kept his clients, completed his projects, and protected the business from one crisis after another.

Meanwhile, he had handed more and more of the credit to Chloe.

Now even my own wedding had become her portfolio.

A few days earlier, I had sent Rachel my portfolio again.

After reviewing it, she had quickly arranged an interview.

Tonight, all we needed to confirm was my start date.

“Would next week work?” I asked. “The handoverThe handover here is almost finished.”

“Of course. We’re looking forward to having you.”

Rachel smiled, then hesitated.

“But aren't you pregnant and getting married soon? Will moving to Seattle be difficult?”

I glanced at the suitcase beside my bed.

“The wedding is canceled,” I said. “And I lost the baby.”

The bedroom door suddenly opened behind me.

Nathan stood in the doorway, staring at me with a frown.

“What did you just say was gone?”