Chapter 2

By the time I returned to my apartment, it was almost eleven.

I had bought this apartment myself.

Simon had never once been here.

Even when my period cramps were so bad that I couldn't get out of bed and I called him, asking him to buy me a box of painkillers, he only said calmly over the phone,

"Maren, we're not married yet.

"If an unmarried man and woman are alone together, it's the woman's reputation that gets damaged."

Back then, I was foolish enough to feel touched.

I thought he respected me. I thought he was thinking of me.

Only tonight, after seeing Ivy wearing his T-shirt, curled on his couch with her legs across his lap, did I realize those words had been nothing but an excuse.

I stopped thinking about it and opened my suitcase to pack.

Halfway through, my hand brushed against the garment bag in the very back of the closet.

I froze for a moment.

Inside was the wedding dress I had paid for in full.

During the wedding preparations, Simon had been completely hands-off, but he was generous with money.

He booked the best hotel.

He chose the most expensive wedding cars.

He made sure the banquet menu looked respectable.

Even his suit had been handmade by an Italian designer.

Only when it came to my wedding dress, he said,

"Just rent one.

"You'll only wear it once. There's no need to waste money."

On the day we tried on dresses, he arrived two hours late and casually pointed at one.

"That one. Stop making it complicated."

But I didn't want to settle.

I didn't want to leave any regrets at the wedding where I was supposed to marry the person I loved.

So later, I went to the bridal shop alone and chose this one: the grandest and most expensive gown in the store.

Now, I didn't need it anymore.

I took a photo and posted it on a secondhand marketplace.

[Brand-new wedding dress, never worn. Selling at a low price.]

The post had just gone up when a new friend request popped up at the top of my phone.

I opened it.

The profile picture was a girl standing with her back to the camera by the sea.

At first, I only thought it looked familiar.

Then I noticed the strip of ocean in the upper-right corner of the photo, and realization hit me.

That was exactly Simon's profile picture.

I used to tease him for being so old-fashioned at such a young age, using a landscape as his avatar.

Only now did I understand.

It had never been a landscape.

It was a cropped corner from Ivy's photo.

I accepted the friend request.

The next second, a message came through.

[Maren, I'm really sorry about today. I made you misunderstand.]

[I'll treat you to dinner tomorrow to apologize.]

My fingers rested on the keyboard. I had just typed "No need" when another message from Ivy arrived.

[This is the restaurant I go to most often. Tomorrow at five in the afternoon. See you there.]

I looked at the address and drifted for a moment.

It was also the restaurant Simon most often brought me to.

I couldn't exactly say I liked it.

The food there leaned sweet, and the lighting was a little too dim.

But Simon suggested it every time.

So over the three years we dated, we ate there many times.

Most of the time, we sat across from each other.

He kept his head lowered, dealing with work.

I quietly cut the steak on my plate.

Sometimes, when I looked up at him, I even felt that this counted as peaceful happiness.

Thinking back now, it was only ironic.

I couldn't help asking in my heart:

Simon.

When you sat across from me, who were you really thinking about?

In the end, I still decided to go.

The next afternoon, I walked into the restaurant on time.

As soon as I entered, I saw Simon and Ivy sitting side by side by the window.

I walked over and took the seat across from them.

Ivy stuck out her tongue and smiled playfully.

"Sorry, Maren.

"I was supposed to come alone, but Sim was worried and insisted on coming with me."

Worried about what?

He was only afraid I would make things difficult for her.

Yet for some reason, I remembered the second year Simon and I dated.

There was a client at the company who always used drunkenness as an excuse to touch single female employees.

After every business dinner, my coworkers' boyfriends would come pick them up.

I mentioned it to Simon once too.

At the time, he merely said,

"I trust you.

"You're so capable at work. You can definitely handle a little thing like that."

It turned out love only felt heavy when it was measured in differences.

He couldn't even rest easy while Ivy had one dinner alone with me.

But he could trust his own girlfriend to walk away safely from a lecherous, difficult client.