{ TWO }

ALICE

Six days left of being Catherine Morgan. I lay awake in the dark counting them anyway. One by one. Turning each day over in my head like if I thought about it long enough, time might slow down a little.

Vaylen didn’t come home that night. I moved through the penthouse the same way I’d moved through this marriage. The rooms stayed spotless. I made sure of that. The hours passed without sound. Nothing changed. Somehow that had stopped feeling strange a long time ago.

The next morning, I counted again while standing by the bedroom window.

*Five days left.* The city stretched below me, loud and moving and alive in a way this place never was.

It was my birthday. The thought came and went almost immediately. No excitement. No ache either. Just a fact.

By noon, I stood at the kitchen counter stirring powder into a glass of water, watching it disappear slowly beneath the spoon. Prenatal vitamins.

“Once a day,” the doctor had said two days ago. A responsibility sitting quietly inside my body where nobody else could see it.

I set the spoon aside and lifted the glass. Then the knock came from the door. I froze with the cup halfway to my mouth. For a second, the whole apartment seemed to go silent around me. Or maybe it was just me standing there too still, waiting for my heartbeat to settle enough to think.

I lowered the cup carefully and walked toward the door. I opened the door expecting absolutely nothing. At some point during the first year of this marriage, I’d stopped expecting things from Vaylen Morgan at all. It had happened quietly enough that I never noticed the exact moment.

Reno stood in the hallway holding two garment bags over one arm and a velvet box in the other hand.

“From Mr. Morgan.” He paused a little. Then, “Happy birthday, Mrs. Morgan.”

I just looked at him for a second. At the bags. The velvet box. Back at him again, like maybe I’d misunderstood something. My hand tightened a little on the edge of the door. *He remembered.* The thought slipped in too fast before I could shut it down.

I reached for the things immediately, before my mind could turn it into more than it was.

“Thank you, Reno.”

“Of course.” He gave a small nod and stepped away.

I closed the door slowly. I carried everything to the couch and laid it out carefully.

The dress came first. Dusty rose. Soft fabric, clean lines. Elegant without trying too hard. Very Vaylen. Very deliberate. I brushed my fingers over the material once. Then the jewelry. Pearl drop earrings. A thin chain necklace. Simple pieces, but expensive enough that you noticed anyway. Exactly the kind of thing I would’ve picked for myself.

The shoes were in the second bag. My size. Right on the first try. That stopped me more than it should have.

I sat on the edge of the couch staring at them for a moment. Five days before our marriage ended, and he still knew my shoe size. I didn’t really know what to do with that thought, so I let it sit there.

My phone started ringing from the kitchen counter. I got up to answer it, the sound following me the whole way across the apartment.

Vaylen.

I picked up.

“Has Reno brought everything?” His voice was low and distracted, like he was reading something while talking to me.

“Yes.” I heard papers shift faintly on his end. He was still working.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.” A short pause. “Be ready.”

The call ended. I stared at the blank screen for a second longer before setting the phone back down. Then I picked up the glass from the counter and drank the vitamin mixture in a few quick swallows before I could think about it too much. When the glass was empty, I rinsed it out and went back to the dress.

----

The dress fit perfectly. Not “good enough.” Perfect. I stood in front of the mirror with one hand resting at my waist, feeling the fabric settle properly against my body.

Vaylen had never asked for my measurements. He still knew them anyway.

I lowered my hand, and my wedding ring caught the light. I stared at it for a second. I hadn’t taken it off. I wasn’t going to. Not yet. Five more days and the ring wouldn’t mean anything to anyone except me. But tonight, it still did. So I left it where it belonged. I would wear his name properly until the end.

---

At exactly seven, I heard the front door open. Of course he was on time. Vaylen Morgan was never late.

I let out a slow breath and walked down the stairs, fingers brushing lightly against the railing as I went. He stood near the door in dark suit, phone in one hand, the other in his pocket. He looked up when he heard my heels. And stopped. Just for a second.

Most people wouldn’t have noticed it. I did. Three years with Vaylen had taught me how to spot the small cracks before they disappeared again. His eyes moved over the dress slowly. Then back to my face. Something shifted in his expression. Gone almost immediately, hidden behind that usual control he wore like armor. His jaw tightened.

“Let’s go.”

---

The drive was quiet. Not comfortable quiet either. The kind where every small sound starts to feel louder because neither person is saying what they’re actually thinking. Streetlights passed over Vaylen’s face in steady flashes. His eyes stayed on the road. His hands never shifted on the wheel. I kept mine folded in my lap and looked out the window instead.

When we reached the hotel, he parked and turned off the engine. Neither of us moved. The silence stretched for a few seconds longer, heavy enough that I finally broke it first.

“Hold my hand when we walk in.” His head turned slowly toward me. “You said I could have one night.” I swallowed once. “This is part of it. After tonight, you won’t have to do it again.”

Something flickered across his face. Quick. Hard to read. Then it disappeared.

He opened his door and got out. A second later, mine opened too. I looked up at him. He didn’t speak. Just stood there holding the door open.

I stepped out, smoothing the dress automatically, and he moved beside me. Then he held out his hand. I placed my hand in his. His grip closed around mine, firm and steady. Then his thumb brushed once across my knuckles. I kept my eyes forward and walked beside him into the hotel.

The restaurant was warm with soft gold lighting and low conversation. Glassware caught the light every time servers moved past. Everything smelled expensive — wine, butter, polished wood.

We sat down and ate mostly in silence. But it wasn’t the same silence we’d lived with at home. That silence was empty from repetition. This one felt… careful. Like both of us were too aware of each other.

“How’s the Singapore project?” I asked after a while. His eyes lifted to mine immediately.

“Complicated,” he said. Then, after a second, “Alliance issue.”

And somehow that turned into him talking. Government approvals. Delayed shipments. Investors. Numbers and timelines and contracts layered over each other. His food barely got touched while he spoke. Vaylen only forgot to eat when his mind was fully somewhere else.

I didn’t say much. Mostly listened. But every now and then, between sentences, his eyes came back to me briefly. Like he was checking if I was still paying attention. Then the music changed.

My fingers tightened around the stem of my glass before I could stop myself. I knew that song. The first note hit me harder than it should have. Something in my chest tightened before I could stop it. The song pulled me backward for a second — to a version of myself that existed before the penthouse, before the ring, before I learned how quiet a person could become inside a marriage.

I looked down at my glass and took a slow breath. The kind you take when you absolutely cannot lose composure in public.

“What is it?” Vaylen’s voice was quieter now.

I looked up. He was already watching me. He’d been watching me all night, actually. Enough that I still didn’t know what to do with it after three years of almost nothing.

The music drifted softly through the restaurant around us, uncaring, filling the silence between sentences. I held his gaze for a second before speaking.

“Dance with me, Vaylen.”