Chapter 1

The smile on Ingrid Walton's face slowly faded.

She set the cake on the table and reached for the notes. "John Rutherford, don't touch them."

I held down one of the stars I hadn't finished unfolding. "Why can't I? Is it because they weren't written for me, or because I've finally caught on?"

Her fingers froze in midair. After a moment, she pulled the slip of paper out of my hand.

"I wrote these before we got married. That was five years ago."

"If it's all in the past, then why are you still doing every last one of them?"

Ingrid lowered her head and gathered the notes, her expression returning to its usual calm. "Back in college, the four of us went into the mountains on a research trip and got caught in a landslide.

"Sarah pushed me out of the way and ended up with two broken ribs. You were at the hospital too, so you should remember."

Of course I remembered. Back then, Ingrid, Charlie Barker, his sister Sarah Barker, and I all went to the same college.

Sarah later spent most of her time stationed overseas, and before she left, she asked Ingrid to look after her little brother.

"Charlie's been afraid of thunder ever since. His stomach problems date back to that hospital stay too. He goes in for checkups every Wednesday, and I pick him up an almond milk latte on the way. That's all it is."

"So every time there's been a thunderstorm for the past five years, every time you left me behind to go be with him, that was just looking after him too?"

"Yes," she answered without the slightest hesitation.

"You've known Charlie for years too, so you know what he's been through. Sarah saved my life, and now that she's overseas, what's wrong with me taking care of her brother for her?"

After a pause, she continued impatiently, "John, you're supposed to be his friend too. Do you really have to make everything so complicated?"

I watched her gather all 50 notes, one by one. I suddenly laughed. "Then why did you put the things you wrote for him into our wishing jar?"

Ingrid frowned. "I simply grabbed whatever paper was on the table back then."

"The day before the wedding, you sat right next to me and told me every star in that jar held our future," I retorted.

"You seriously remembered something I only said to make you happy for five whole years?"

The words were barely out before she seemed to realize how harsh they sounded. She reached for my shoulder. "John, that's not what I meant."

I avoided her touch, leaving her hand hanging in the air. My medical report lay at the corner of the table.

I'd originally planned to wait until she unfolded the very last star before telling her that, as long as I had the surgery immediately, my stomach could still be saved from being removed. But now, there was no point in saying anything anymore.

Ingrid picked up the knife. "Let's have some cake first. I had them order your favorite flavor."

When she opened the box, the rich smell of almonds filled the room. My hands immediately balled into fists. "This is what you call my favorite flavor?"

Ingrid glanced at the label, and her expression changed slightly. "My assistant must have gotten the order wrong. Charlie was at the office today too. They probably mixed up his order with yours."

She closed the lid, impatience already creeping into her voice. "It's just a cake. I'll get someone to bring another one."

"Don't bother."

I slid my medical report underneath the tablecloth. "Let's get a divorce, Ingrid."

She froze, then tossed the knife back into the box. "Just because of a few slips of paper from five years ago?"

"Because in every moment over the past five years when I thought you were mine, he was there in your heart too."

"You don't have to make it sound so bad." Ingrid pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're the one I married. You're the one I call my husband. Charlie has never tried to take anything from you."

"So I should just be grateful?"

"At least don't use divorce to test me on our anniversary."

Her phone suddenly rang. The second she saw the name on the screen, she immediately answered.

Charlie's panicked voice spilled from the speaker. "Ingrid, it's thundering outside, and the lights just went out."

"Don't hang up," she replied. "I'm on my way."

Ingrid grabbed her coat before glancing my way. "He has panic attacks. I'm going to check on him."

"And what if I told you not to go?" I asked.