Chapter 7

Anna’s POV

“Where are you heading to?”

His voice stopped me cold.

My feet felt glued to the ground, like the floor had turned to quicksand beneath me. Panic swirled in my chest. I’d planned it all out—how I’d slip out unnoticed, maybe even check up on him quietly before leaving. But here he was, standing right in front of me like fate had other plans.

“Hello?” he called again, snapping me out of my frozen daze.

Slowly—slower than usual—I turned around to face him.

“Where are you going to?” he repeated, this time softer, with a genuine hint of concern in his tone.

I looked at him—really looked. Straight into his eyes, as if I were gearing up for a fight. I expected suspicion or anger. But instead… his face held worry.

That threw me off.

“Just trying to sneak my way in… so I can follow you to work,” I blurted, forcing a playful tone and a weak smile to match.

A lie.

A bad one.

The truth was, I wanted to go out alone. To breathe. To clear my head. Maybe even find Ethan. I wasn’t sure why I needed to see him again, but something inside me told me I had to.

And yet, here I was—caught in the act, pretending to be the kind of woman who wanted to tag along just to spend time with her man.

I hated how easy it was to lie.

Even more, I hated how much of me still needed the truth.

He blinked at me, caught off guard by my answer. I could tell he wasn’t convinced, not even a little. But he didn’t push.

“Really?” he said, his brow lifting slightly. “You really want to follow me to the office.”

I chuckled dryly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear to mask my unease. “Yeah, well… maybe.”

He studied me for a moment—too long. The kind of silence that feels like it’s peeling layers off you. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, heart drumming against my ribs like a warning.

He finally sighed. “Anna, you don’t have to pretend.”

My smile faltered.

But before I could speak, he stepped aside, giving me a clear path to the door.

“I won’t stop you,” he said. “Just be careful out there. The world isn’t always kind.”

And with that, he walked away—leaving behind a quiet that felt louder than any scream.

I stood frozen in the silence, the echo of his footsteps fading behind me. My fingers clenched at my sides.

What am I doing?

I didn’t even know where I was going exactly. All I knew was that I couldn’t stay here. Not like this. Not when I still felt like I was suffocating in someone else’s life.

As I stared at the door, my thoughts swirled like a storm—and that’s when it hit me.

A memory.

Sharp. Uninvited.

FLASHBACK – TWO YEARS AGO

Max & I. Our home. Our beginning of the end.

I was laughing. Genuinely laughing as I sat at the kitchen counter, stirring pancake batter while Max kissed the back of my neck, his arms wrapped tightly around my waist.

“You always burn them,” he teased, pulling away and grabbing the spatula from me. “Let the master handle breakfast.”

I rolled my eyes. “Master of what? Ruining my non-stick pan?”

He grinned, the smile that once melted every ounce of doubt I had in him.

We were happy—or I thought we were.

But then, in a blink, that moment warped.

Laughter turned to shouting.

The kitchen became a battlefield.

Me, crying. Him, with cold eyes I didn’t recognize anymore.

“You think sacrificing everything makes you special?” he had snapped that night. “I never asked you to give up your life for me!”

I remember the ache that split my chest in two. I remember the silence that followed me for weeks. I remember thinking—This isn't love anymore. It's war.

I remember how he came back pledging on his knees and wanting me to forgive him.

Navie me did as he wanted.

PRESENT DAY

I blinked away the sting in my eyes, my jaw clenched as the memory faded.

Max.

The man I gave ten years to. The man who watched me break and never reached out to catch me.

And now?

I wasn’t going to be that woman anymore.

I wouldn’t bleed for someone who never once offered me a bandage.

I took a shaky breath, grabbed the coat from the rack, and stepped out into the morning air.

This is my beginning.

Even if I had to carve it out alone; I just know that I would survive this new chance have been offered.