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Chapter 3

Autor: CraveMoonlight
Lucas stayed where he was, frowning as if he hadn't heard me properly. "You... What did you say?"

I opened my mouth to repeat it, but a sob came from behind me.

Ella swayed to one side as if all her strength had left her.

"Ella!" Lucas spun around, crossed to her in two steps, and caught her by the shoulders.

"I'm fine... I'm just a little dizzy..." she managed, letting herself fall against him.

Lucas went rigid. He supported her back with one hand and fumbled for his phone with the other. "Don't talk. I'm calling an ambulance..."

"Don't... Let me sit for a second and I'll be all right..." Ella clutched his sleeve. "And there are so many guests here..."

"You call this all right?" Lucas's voice rose, sharp with panic and concern.

He looked back at me. "Freya, stop this. Go home and rest. Ella and I will look after your friends here. We can talk tomorrow."

He bent down to help Ella up and walked back with most of her weight against him, never once looking at me.

I stood there watching them go, feeling empty. There was nothing left in me.

Apparently, even canceling our wedding wasn't important enough to hold his attention.

I turned, walked out of the room, and went home alone.

I'd picked that apartment.

Back then, I'd dragged him over to see it. I'd planned the color of each wall, where the bookshelves would go, and which corner would hold the photos of us.

I took his hand and turned in a slow circle in the middle of the living room. Then I pointed to the big south-facing room. "That one's my favorite. It can be the master bedroom. I'll wake up to sunlight every morning."

He smiled and didn't say anything.

Then, on the day we got the keys, he took a phone call and went to pick up Ella.

I stood in that empty, unfinished apartment all afternoon. When he finally arrived with Ella, he pointed to the south-facing room and said, "Ella will take this one. It hasn't been easy for her here on her own. This is her home too."

He didn't come home that night, and I wasn't surprised.

I didn't call, didn't message, didn't even wonder where he was.

I packed my things one by one.

At dawn, I contacted a real estate agent about selling the apartment.

I sent her the paperwork, and she called me back.

"Ma'am, are you handling this on the owner's behalf? Or is the owner there with you?"

I stopped. "What do you mean, on the owner's behalf?"

"You'll need a power of attorney from the owner authorizing you to sell. If it's notarized, the process is much faster. Otherwise, the owner has to come in..."

"Wait," I said. "This is my apartment. Whose authorization do I need?"

There was a pause on her end.

"Ma'am..." She sounded uncertain now. "You're not the owner listed for this property."

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"What did you say?"
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