Chapter 2

For a moment, I drifted.

"Be a little more mature."

Those were the four words Adrian had said to me most often in our five years of marriage.

I sent him photos of stray cats I met by the road, camellias blooming downstairs, trees I didn't recognize...

He told me to be more mature. I was married now, and I shouldn't do little-girl things like that.

I shared songs I liked with him, funny or sad things I saw online, people I met who made me angry or amused...

He told me to be more mature and not keep bothering him with irrelevant things.

Later, it became the gas stove breaking at home, the water pipe bursting...

When I called Adrian, he still impatiently told me to be more mature and stop looking for him over every little thing.

In the end, it became this.

A rainstorm when I couldn't get a cab. A late-night flight home after a business trip. Going to the hospital when I was sick.

All of it ended with him telling me to be more mature and solve it myself.

I came back to myself and watched Adrian knock on the desk impatiently.

"Courtney, talk. What exactly are you upset about now?"

Upset?

I looked at him and said calmly, "Were those dishes really made for me? We've been married for five years, and sweetbreads and chitterlings have never once appeared on our dining table."

"You spend effort cooking for someone else, and I don't even have the right to say I won't eat it?"

His expression shifted. Then he let out a heavy sigh and looked at me with disappointment.

"Sophie paid for the groceries. She bought two dishes she likes. Do you have to be so petty and make everyone unhappy?"

The breath trapped in my chest pressed harder, making me feel even worse.

I lowered my head, unwilling to say more.

"Adrian, let's div-"

With a bang, the study door closed.

Adrian had left.

I was the only one left in the study.

It was terrifyingly quiet.

My phone chimed twice.

It was an email from HR.

They confirmed my resignation and asked me to prepare my handover.

The company was efficient. I had to finish the handover within three days.

I opened the airline app and booked a flight to Asheville in three days.

Then I ordered takeout.

When it arrived, I slowly went to the dining room and prepared to eat lunch.

My phone buzzed twice again.

Sophie had updated her social media.

[Happiness is having someone to eat delicious food with.]

The picture showed two hands clinking aluminum takeout containers together. Inside the containers were sweetbreads sprinkled with scallions and cilantro.

I stared silently at the distinct, slender left hand in the photo.

Adrian's hands were beautiful enough to be a hand model's.

I could recognize them at a glance.

When we had free time at home in the past, my favorite thing was leaning against him on the couch and playing with his fingers.

Outside the window, the sun was bright, and the flowers were in full bloom.

Looking back now, I could no longer remember the last time he and I had leaned together like that.

And...

My eyes fixed on his ring finger.

At some point, he had taken off his plain wedding band. There wasn't even a trace left on that beautiful finger.

Just like our five-year marriage.

I turned off my phone screen, slowly finished my meal, and went to the office to handle the handover.

My coworker was worried about me. "Courtney, you look terrible. Are you seriously ill?"

I shook my head. "The surgery was successful. I'll be fine after some rest."

After work, my coworker was still worried about my condition. She insisted on driving me downstairs and even stuffed a farewell gift into my arms.

"I bought these supplements especially for you. Take them home and build yourself back up.

"If you're not feeling well, do the handover online. We can help with the in-person parts."

My eyes warmed.

When I had just been hospitalized, almost everyone in my department had visited me.

When they saw me after I was discharged, they noticed at once that I looked pale and offered to help.

But my husband, the person legally closest to me, Adrian Prescott, had only dissatisfaction and blame for me.

From beginning to end, he had not said a single word of concern.