Chapter 2

Maya's hand tightened around her phone, her knuckles turning white against the soft glow of the screen. The timing wasn't lost on her. She had just been thinking of her.

Isabelle Chen.

"Of course I remember you," Maya said, keeping her voice steady despite the way her heart had begun to race. Five years. It had been several years since she had last seen her.

A soft girly laugh came through the line, melodious and confident. "Good. I wasn't sure if you'll still remember me after all these years. Good to know that I'm still on your mind after everything. You must be thinking a whole lot of things right now."

There was a mocking tone to her words that made Maya eager to slap her on the face. She blamed the distance for preventing her from carrying out what was on her mind.

"Why are you calling me, Isabelle?" Maya moved away from the window, her free hand pressed against her stomach as if she could physically hold herself together.

"Straight to the point. I like that." Another laugh. "You know, I always wondered how you two were faring in that sham of a marriage. The girl who replaced me."

"I didn't replace anyone," Maya said quietly. "Our marriage was arranged by our families. You know that."

"Do I? All I know is that one day Alexander and I were planning our future, and the next, I was being told he was marrying you." Isabelle's voice had lost some of its playful edge. "But that's ancient history now, isn't it?"

Maya said nothing, waiting.

"Aren't you curious how I got your number?" Isabelle asked, the teasing tone returning. "Go on, guess."

"Spit it out if you want to. I have no idea."

"From Alexander's phone, of course. While he was sleeping." Isabelle delivered this information casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to sleep besides him.

The implication hit Maya like a physical blow. She sank onto the edge of the bed, one hand gripping the silk duvet.

"I see," she managed to say, proud that her voice didn't shake.

"Do you? Do you really see, Maya?" Isabelle's voice turned sharp. "Let me spell it out for you then. I've come back to New York. And I've come to take Alexander back."

Maya closed her eyes. Of course. Of course this would happen now, when she had six months left to live. When she was finally ready to let go of this ghost of a marriage. Fate had always had a cruel sense of timing.

"Alexander is married," Maya said.

"To you. In name only, from what I understand." Isabelle laughed again, but there was no warmth in it now. "Tell me, Maya, when was the last time your husband actually touched you? When was the last time you both had a nice time together?

"What Alexander and I have is none of your concern," Maya said, but the words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

"Oh, sweetie. What you don't have is exactly my concern. Because what you don't have, I'm going to take back. Alexander never stopped loving me, you know. He told me so himself."

Maya thought of Alexander downstairs in his study, absorbed in his work, barely aware she existed. She thought of five years of cold shoulders and empty beds and a love that had withered before it ever had a chance to bloom.

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for," Maya said softly. "Goodbye, Isabelle."

"Wait—"

Maya ended the call.

She sat in the darkness of her room, phone still clutched in her hand. She should feel something, she thought. Anger, perhaps. Or fear at the thought of losing Alexander to his first love. But all she felt was a bone-deep weariness.

Maybe it would be easier this way. If Alexander left her for Isabelle, she could spend her remaining months in peace. No more pretending. No more hoping for something that would never come.

She stood, smoothing down her dress. She needed to talk to Alexander. Now. Before she lost her nerve.

She found him in the hallway, already dressed in his overcoat, car keys in hand. He looked surprised to see her.

"Maya. I thought you'd gone to bed."

"I need to talk to you," she said. "It's important."

Alexander checked his watch, frowning. "Can it wait? I have an important meeting."

At 10 PM? Maya wanted to ask. But she already knew the answer. She could smell the faint trace of expensive cologne he'd applied, and could see the way he'd styled his hair with more care than usual.

He wasn't going to a meeting.

He was going to her.

"How long will you be?" Maya asked instead.

"I'm not sure. Don't wait up." He moved past her toward the stairs, then paused. "Is everything alright? You look pale."

I'm dying, she wanted to say. I have six months to live, and I just got a call from your ex-girlfriend who says she's taking you back, and I don't even know if I have the strength to fight for a marriage that never really existed.

"I'm fine," she said. "We'll talk when you get back."

"Sure." He was already halfway down the stairs.

Maya listened to the front door close, then the sound of his car pulling away. She stood alone in the hallway of the massive house, surrounded by expensive art and designer furniture and all the trappings of a life that had never really been hers.

She walked slowly back to her room and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

The house settled into silence around her. The staff had long since retired for the evening. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic from the city below.

Maybe Maya should just let her have him. Alexander had never wanted this marriage anyway. If Isabelle made him happy, wasn't that enough?

But even as she thought it, Maya knew she couldn't. Not yet. Not without trying one last time.

She had six months to live. Six months to finally know what it felt like to be loved by Alexander Blackwood, or to walk away knowing she'd at least tried.

The hours crept by. Midnight came and went. One AM. Two.

At 3:17 AM, Maya heard Alexander's car pull into the driveway.

She got out of bed and pulled on her robe, then went downstairs to meet him.