Chapter 2

It wasn't until the words left his mouth that Kenneth finally realized he'd gone too far.

He rubbed his temples, muttered a stiff apology, and hurried out.

About 15 minutes later, the door opened again. The familiar smell of hot lattes and cinnamon rolls drifted into the room.

Kenneth came over, took my hand, and led me to the table before pulling out a chair and making me sit. He awkwardly set down the drinks and pastries, then gave me a tentative smile.

"I'm sorry. I lost my temper back there."

Normally, I would have pulled out my phone, snapped a picture of the food, and posted it on Instagram with a sweet caption.

[Dating your childhood sweetheart and realizing how lucky you are.]

But this time, I just looked at him and asked quietly, "You bought all this for her too, didn't you?"

I didn't need to spell that name. He knew who I was referring to.

Kenneth's hand stopped halfway through setting down a napkin. By the time he lowered both hands to the table, the warmth had disappeared from his face.

"Can you stop twisting everything into something it isn't?" he sulked. "I explained what happened, and I apologized. What else do you want from me?"

He drew out each word, his frustration slipping through, as if trying to prove that I was making a problem out of nothing.

Slowly, I opened my hand and placed the clump of long hair I'd been holding onto since last night on the table.

"How do you explain this?" I demanded, holding his gaze.

He opened his mouth, but I didn't give him the chance.

"It's long, wavy, and chestnut brown. My hair is short and blonde. And if that's not enough, whose lace scarf is hanging on the coat rack by the door? Who left the fuzzy bunny slippers in our bathroom?"

"Hannah..."

"Are they Berta's? Let me guess. She's been here before. More than once. Otherwise, why would my brand-new skincare set be half gone? And why would I find her hair on the guest bed?"

"Enough!"

For several long seconds, the only sound was his harsh, heavy breathing. His brow furrowed, and his gaze was cold with disgust.

That was right. Disgust! I knew that look all too well.

My father used to look at my mother that way. It had left a wound so deep it seemed to ache forever.

I had never dared to ask my mother about it; I had asked Kenneth instead.

Back then, he had taken my hands in his, his eyes bright with sincerity.

"Hannah, your dad was just blind. He never saw how wonderful your mom was. But I'm not like him. I see how amazing you are. You'll always be my safe harbor!"

Those innocent words still echoed in my mind.

Now, as I looked into his eyes, all those old memories came rushing back. The pain I'd buried for years tightened around my heart like a thread pulled slowly, painfully taut, until I could barely breathe.

"So what if she stayed the night?" Kenneth shot back. "She's not some random stranger. She needed a place to stay, and she stayed here. What's wrong with that? Do you have to keep dragging this out?"

His expression hardened. "You're perfectly content with your dead-end office job, sitting there as a nobody with no social life and no connections. Do you expect me to become just as useless?"

My eyes widened. "Useless?"

For a second, something flickered across his face.

But soon, he recovered and gave a dismissive nod. "Look in the mirror. Other than being paranoid all the time, what do you have over Berta?

"She's smart, eager to learn, and modest. What do you do? Hiding in the kitchen all day baking pastries. Can't you learn something from her for once?"

He sounded perfectly justified, finally dumping all the resentment he'd been holding inside.

I watched his lips move, each sentence cutting deeper than the last. All I could do was press a hand against my chest, as if that could somehow hold my heart together.

More than ten years ago, he had admired my hands and told me that everything I baked was a work of art. Now he was calling me a useless nobody and telling me to learn from the woman who had stolen his heart.

Learn what? How to knowingly become the other woman?

How to take advantage of a man's feelings and then flaunt that stolen affection in front of his girlfriend? Or how to stay in his house and deliberately leave my hair behind?

No! I wouldn't become that woman.

Before my mother died, she had warned me, "Hannah, the world is big. Don't make the same mistake I did. Don't lose yourself over a man."

She had learned those lessons through blood and tears. I wasn't going to ignore them anymore.

I put down my fork, stood up, and met Kenneth's eyes with a bitter smile. "Since Berta is so wonderful, go be with her. Let's break up."