004

The next morning, Ethan kissed my forehead before leaving for work.

And if I was being honest, it almost broke me more than the anniversary did.

I stood frozen in the kitchen while he grabbed coffee with one hand and checked emails with the other.

“You’re staring,” he murmured without looking up.

I blinked quickly. “Sorry.”

One corner of his mouth twitched, but then his phone buzzed and it was like it never happened. 

“I’ll be late tonight.”

Of course you will. 

The response sat bitterly on my tongue, but I swallowed it down.

“Okay.”

Ethan finally looked at me properly then, like he expected more.

Maybe a complaint or an argument, but I was too tired for either.

His brows pulled together slightly.

“You okay?”

There it was again.

That question he only asked when I became quiet enough to worry him.

Not when I cried.

Not when I tried talking.

Only when I stopped.

“I’m fine.”

Ethan studied me for another second before nodding slowly.

Then he walked over, pressed another quick kiss to my forehead, and left.

It was as unexpected as the first, and the fact that a forehead kiss from my husband was surprising made me want to cry. 

The apartment felt unbearably empty afterward. I stood there for a long moment staring at the front door.

These were one of the last times I was going to watch him walk out the door, and I felt the need to commit such moments to memory, as sad as they felt. 

I spent the rest of the afternoon packing small things into boxes.

Not obvious things. Nothing Ethan would immediately notice.

Just pieces of myself.

I packed most of my books, shoes, jewelry and some dresses.

Every item I packed made my chest ache a little more.

Seven years.

Seven years of building a life inside this apartment.

And now I was quietly dismantling it while my husband had no idea.

Around six, Mia showed up with wine and takeout.

She stopped dead the second she saw the boxes near the closet.

“Oh.”

I laughed weakly. “Yeah.”

Her expression softened immediately. “You’re really doing this.”

“Yeah,” I said again, weakly..

Mia set the food down before pulling me into a hug instantly.

The gesture made tears spring into my eyes almost immediately. But I didn't let them drop. I was too tired of crying over things I couldn't control. 

“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” she whispered. 

It was almost like she read my thoughts. I wouldn't have been surprised if she could. 

“I’m trying not to fall apart.”

“Well, your husband’s an emotionally constipated billionaire. Falling apart seems reasonable.”

A laugh escaped me despite everything.

God, I needed Mia.

Heaven knew I couldn't be strong without her. 

We spent the next hour eating noodles on the kitchen counter while she filled the silence Ethan usually left behind.

For the first time in days, I almost felt normal. That was until the front door opened.

My stomach dropped instantly.

“I thought you said he’d be late,” Mia hissed.

“So did I.”

Footsteps approached, and then Ethan appeared in the kitchen doorway.

He stopped immediately after seeing Mia.

Then his eyes shifted toward the boxes near the hallway, lingering on the boxes for one second too long before returning to my face.

“What’s this?”

My pulse jumped painfully, but I forced myself to stay calm.

Mia suddenly became very interested in her noodles.

“Closet clean-out.”

The expression that flickered on his face next made me scared that he suspected something. 

But then his phone buzzed again. And for the first time, I was grateful for that annoying sound. 

“Right,” he murmured distractedly.

Relief crashed through me so fast I nearly felt dizzy.

Part of me hated how badly I wanted him to notice. Because wasn’t that the whole problem?

I still wanted Ethan to fight for me, even while preparing to leave him.

I was pathetic. 

“Mia,” he greeted absentmindedly as he loosened his tie while reading whatever was on his screen.

“Ethan.”

The tension between them had become impossible to ignore lately. Mostly because Mia had stopped pretending to like him.

“You’re home early,” I noted.

“Meeting got canceled.”

“Mm.”

My own response startled me slightly.

It sounded so much like him, it was almost funny. 

Ethan noticed too.

His eyes lifted toward me again. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

The comment landed heavily between us.

I looked away first.

“Maybe you’ve just been too distracted to hear me.”

Silence.

Mia muttered, “Jesus,” under her breath before standing abruptly.

“I should go.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do actually.” She squeezed my shoulder quickly while glaring at Ethan over my head. “Call me later.”

Then she disappeared before the awkwardness could worsen.

The second the front door shut behind her, silence swallowed the apartment whole.

Ethan walked slowly toward the boxes near the hallway.

My heart started pounding instantly.

Please don’t open them. Please.

He rested one hand lightly on the top box.

“What exactly are you getting rid of?”

I forced a shrug. “Old stuff.”

Another silence.

Then unexpectedly; “You packed the blue dress.”

I froze.

Ethan glanced toward me. “That’s your favorite. Isn't it?”

The words hit embarrassingly hard.

Because he noticed that?

After everything?

He noticed a dress?

My throat tightened painfully. “I don’t wear it anymore.”

His gaze held mine for a second too long.

And suddenly the air between us felt strange.

Charged somehow.

Then his phone rang again.

And just like always, the moment shattered.

Ethan answered immediately, turning slightly away.

“Talk to me.”

I watched him disappear back into work in real time, like the last few seconds never happened at all.

And suddenly I felt exhausted again.

I was exhausted by him. I was exhausted by us. By loving someone who only seemed to notice me in brief accidental moments.

That night, Ethan fell asleep beside me around one in the morning.

Laptop still open, one arm stretched across the bed, tie loosened, exhaustion written into every line of his face. 

A stab of pity hit me when I traced the lines across his face. It was obvious that whatever work he had was starting to affect him physically, something which I'd never seen happy. But I couldn't pity him because he did this to himself. He kept me out of everything, so he had no rights to my pity. 

And even as I thought this, my mind screamed at me for being the worst liar. 

I knew that if he chose to open up to me that exact moment, I'd have dropped every hurt aside just to be with him. 

And that was the exact train of thoughts that made me do what I did next. 

I slipped out of bed and went over to his side, hovering over him. 

I quietly undid the buttons of his shirt, careful not to wake him up.

As I lifted his collar to help him out of his tie, he shifted. I held my breath and waited for him to settle again before continuing my mission. 

But then something fell out of his pocket that immediately caught my attention. 

I picked it up and I felt the room spin as I realized what it was. 

A black lace thong. 

One that definitely wasn't mine. 

And there was only one way my husband could've gotten another woman's underwear in his pocket. 

Ethan was cheating on me. 

And for the first time since he signed the divorce papers, I was sure I was doing the right thing.