Chapter 8

When the auction ended, Davina bounced over to Alban, the crystal sphere cradled in her hands.

"It's not even that special," she said lightly. "If I'd known, I wouldn't have bothered bidding."

As she spoke, she tilted her wrist as though by accident. The sphere slipped from her fingers, struck the floor, and shattered.

Fragments scattered across the marble.

Eliza dropped to her knees. She gathered the pieces one by one, her hands trembling as she tried to fit them back together.

But once something broke, it remained broken. No matter how carefully she worked, the cracks would never disappear.

Her heart seemed to fracture with the crystal.

For years, no matter how Alban had hurt her, she had endured it without admitting the pain. Now grief poured in, crushing and bottomless, as though she were falling into an endless void.

Why? Why would he refuse her even this? She had never tried to compete with Davina. If Davina wanted Alban, she could have him. Eliza had never attempted to take him away.

Alban noticed her devastation and walked over. "It's just a trinket. There are plenty like it. If you want one, I'll buy you another."

Eliza looked up at him, her eyes rimmed red. She no longer had the strength to pretend.

"This crystal sphere was one of a kind." She gathered the shards into her arms and turned away.

…

Over the next few days, she deliberately severed every point of contact with him. When he came home, she feigned sleep. When he went out, she locked herself in her room until she heard the door close.

They lived under the same roof yet went days without seeing each other.

One night, Alban drank too much at a gala. As usual, his friends called Eliza to pick him up.

"We're at Dusk Bar," someone shouted over the noise. "Hurry."

Her voice remained steady. "I can't make it. From now on, call Davina for things like this."

She ended the call without hesitation.

The group stared at the phone in disbelief, then turned to Alban.

"What's going on?" someone asked. "She used to show up the second we called."

"Did the devoted wife finally grow a backbone?"

Alban's thoughts tangled. He remembered her red eyes, the way she had walked away clutching those broken shards. His chest tightened restlessly, as though something clawed at his heart.

He brushed off his friends, slid into the car, and told the driver to take him home.

…

When Alban arrived, Eliza sat in the living room. Surprise flickered across her face. She had not expected him so soon.

He pulled several crystal spheres from his bag and tossed them onto the table in front of her.

"That's enough," he said, impatience edging his voice. "I told you there are plenty like it. How long are you going to keep this up?"

Eliza did not glance at them but said nothing. She stood and turned to leave.

Her phone, which she had left on the table, buzzed.

Alban leaned over and saw the screen.

It was a flight confirmation.

His hand shot out and gripped her wrist. His voice turned cold. "You bought a plane ticket? Where are you going?"

She freed her wrist and answered evenly. "I'm tired of staying home. I want to travel and clear my head."

He hesitated. Something felt wrong. Before he could press her, his own phone rang.

It was Davina.

The moment he answered, her weak, tearful voice came through. "Al, I twisted my ankle. It hurts so much…"

His focus shifted at once, and all concern for Eliza disappeared. He rushed out and told the driver to head straight to the Buckley residence.

Just like that, Eliza's imminent departure slipped from his mind.