Chapter 3 The first Move

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By the time Evelyn returned to her apartment, the afternoon sun was beginning to fade.

She locked the door behind her and carried the remaining shopping bags into the kitchen. Most of her purchases had already disappeared into the storage space, leaving only a few items for immediate use.

She closed her eyes.

The rice, canned fish, bottled water, and other supplies appeared in her mind as if arranged on invisible shelves. Nothing had spoiled or shifted during storage.

A small notification flickered into view.

**Storage capacity: 10 cubic meters.**

**Current usage: 0.84 cubic meters.**

Evelyn opened her eyes and exhaled.

Less than one cubic meter used. That was encouraging, but she could not afford to become careless. She needed a proper inventory, and she needed to learn whether time passed inside the storage space.

She placed a fresh notebook on the kitchen counter and recorded every item she had purchased, including its quantity and expiration date.

Then she divided the page into categories: food, water, medicine, clothing, tools, and personal necessities.

It was a small beginning, but small beginnings were better than blind panic.

Her phone rang.

This time, the caller was her mother-in-law, Mrs. Mitch.

Evelyn hesitated before answering.

“Evelyn, what is going on between you and Nicole?” the older woman demanded. “He says you've suddenly become unreasonable.”

Evelyn leaned against the counter.

“Nicole asked me to transfer five hundred thousand to Vanessa. I refused.”

“Vanessa needed help. You know how difficult things have been for her.”

“And what about my needs?”

There was a pause.

“Don't be childish. You're his wife. A good wife supports her husband.”

The words struck a familiar nerve. In her previous life, Evelyn had heard them whenever Nicole demanded something unreasonable. She had swallowed her objections because she wanted to be accepted by his family.

That acceptance had never come.

“I have supported Nicole for years,” Evelyn said evenly. “But I will no longer be expected to pay for another woman's expenses.”

“You're making a terrible mistake.”

“Perhaps. But it will be my mistake to make.”

She ended the call before the conversation could become another lecture.

Her hands were shaking slightly. Setting boundaries should have felt simple, yet years of conditioning did not disappear overnight.

Evelyn sat down and allowed herself a moment to breathe.

She was still hurt. She was still frightened. Knowing the future did not make her immune to the pain of betrayal, especially when the betrayal had once been wrapped in familiar voices and family expectations.

But she no longer had to earn their affection.

That evening, she attended the consultation with her lawyer by video call. She explained the financial arrangements in her marriage and asked what steps she could take to protect her personal property.

The lawyer advised her to preserve bank records, avoid transferring jointly owned assets without legal advice, and keep communications relating to financial demands.

“Do you have reason to believe your husband may retaliate?” he asked.

Evelyn thought of Nicole's temper.

“Yes.”

“Then keep everything documented. If you intend to separate, do it carefully.”

After the call, she saved the lawyer's advice and began gathering her financial documents.

She would not rush into a confrontation without a plan. Divorce was important, but so was protecting herself from a man who knew her routines, her home, and the details of her life.

At eight that evening, someone knocked on her door.

Evelyn froze.

Three sharp knocks followed.

“Evelyn! Open the door.”

Nicole.

She glanced at the clock. In her previous life, she would have hurried to open the door, afraid that making him wait would provoke an argument.

Now she approached cautiously and checked the peephole.

Nicole stood in the hallway, his handsome face twisted with irritation. He wore the watch she had bought him for his last birthday.

The sight stirred an unwelcome memory. She remembered working overtime to afford that gift while he complained that she never did enough for him.

She kept the door locked.

“What do you want?” she called.

His expression hardened. “Open the door. We need to talk.”

“Talk from there.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Nicole lowered his voice, as though that might make his demand more reasonable. “You embarrassed me today. Vanessa thinks you hate her.”

“I don't care what Vanessa thinks.”

“She is important to me.”

The admission came so easily that Evelyn almost smiled.

In her previous life, Nicole had always insisted Vanessa was merely a friend. He had made Evelyn feel jealous and unreasonable whenever she questioned their closeness.

Now he was standing outside her door, defending the very woman he had asked his wife to finance.

“Then ask Vanessa to help you,” Evelyn replied.

Nicole's face darkened.

“You're my wife, Evelyn. You don't get to decide when you want to act married.”

“And you don't get to treat marriage like a bank account.”

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then he struck the door with his palm.

“You'll regret this.”

Evelyn's heart jumped, but she did not move away from the lock.

“Leave, Nicole. If you continue threatening me, I'll contact building security.”

He stared at the door as though he could force her to open it through sheer anger.

Finally, his footsteps retreated down the hallway.

Evelyn waited until she heard the elevator before stepping back.

Her knees felt weak. She hated that his anger could still frighten her, but fear was not failure. Opening the door would have been the real mistake.

She checked the lock again, then returned to the kitchen.

Her list was waiting.

So was the future.

Evelyn picked up her pen and added one more item beneath tools and supplies.

**A safer place to live.**

Her apartment was familiar, but familiarity would not protect her when the world fell apart.

She had twenty-nine days left.

And she had just learned that preparing for the apocalypse would require more than food and storage space.

It would require learning how to say no, even when the people outside the door were the ones she had once loved.