Chapter 2

Lena’s POV

The next morning felt unreal.

Like I had woken up inside someone else’s life.

I stood across the street from the house I once called home, my arms folded tightly around myself as I stared at the familiar walls. The sun was already up, bright and unforgiving, like it was mocking me. Like it was saying, Life goes on, Lena. Get over it.

I exhaled sharply and crossed the street.

I half-expected the house to be empty. I thought Xander would already be gone, off to work, chasing money, chasing status, chasing everything except his wife.

But of course, he was still there.

I saw his car in the driveway and let out a bitter laugh under my breath.

Typical.

So suddenly, work could wait.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Everything looked exactly the same. Too clean. Too perfect. Like the walls hadn’t heard us tearing each other apart just hours ago.

Xander stood in the living room, sleeves rolled up, phone in hand. He looked… fine. Too fine. Like a man who hadn’t just watched his marriage collapse.

“Lena,” he said, glancing up. “You’re back.”

I didn’t respond.

I walked past him, my heels echoing against the floor, and went straight upstairs. Straight into the bedroom that stopped feeling like mine a long time ago.

I opened the closet and reached for my clothes.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like if I moved too fast, I’d break.

Behind me, I heard his footsteps. He stopped at the door.

“I’ll arrange another session for us,” he said. “Marriage counseling. We shouldn’t make decisions like this when emotions are high.”

I kept folding my clothes.

Didn’t look at him.

Didn’t answer.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

Motherfucker.

I knew him too well. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He wanted to feel like he tried. Like he did his part. So when this ended officially, he could sleep at night knowing he wasn’t the villain.

But I was done playing roles in his life.

I shoved another dress into my suitcase, my hands shaking now. My chest burned.

I know where you’re going after this, I thought bitterly.

Straight to her.

To Isabel.

They’d probably get married very soon. She’d be pregnant before the ink on our divorce papers dried. And people would say, Oh, it just happened. Like it wasn’t happening all along.

At least some cheaters I know still make time for their wives.

Xander didn’t even pretend.

I grabbed the wedding photo frame from the dresser.

The one where I was smiling too wide. Too hopeful. Too in love.

I stared at it for a long second.

God, I looked so happy.

That hurt the most.

With a sharp breath, I ripped the photo in half.

Once.

Twice.

Until it didn’t look like us anymore.

I dropped the torn pieces, then smashed the frame against the edge of the dresser. It shattered, glass scattering across the floor.

Xander inhaled sharply behind me. “Lena—”

I ignored him.

Instead, I slipped the wedding ring off my finger.

The ring that once felt heavy with promise.

Now it just felt heavy.

I placed it gently on the vanity mirror table. Right in the center. Where he couldn’t miss it.

A quiet goodbye.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

Really looked.

My eyes were red. My lips pressed into a tight line. My hair messy. But still…

I looked young.

I looked good.

I looked pretty.

That realization surprised me.

I hadn’t completely lost myself.

At least if there was one good thing in all this mess… it was that.

I straightened my shoulders.

I still looked great.

I’m amazing, I told myself.

I’m awesome.

When did I let myself shrink for him?

How old am I again?

Twenty-four.

Just twenty-four.

I let out a shaky laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” I muttered to my reflection.

I could still work. I could still build something. I could still start again.

I zipped my suitcase closed.

Dragged it past Xander without a word.

He didn’t stop me.

That hurt more than if he had.

I left the house for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, my chest tight but my steps steadier.

Back at the hotel, I dumped my bags on the floor and sank onto the bed.

First things first.

A good apartment.

Then a good job.

I wasn’t going to rot in heartbreak.

After a quick shower, I changed into something simple and headed out. I needed groceries. Personal things. Things that reminded me I was still a person, not just someone’s wife.

The supermarket was busy. Too busy.

I grabbed a basket and wandered through the aisles, my mind elsewhere. I was halfway down the beverage section when laughter reached my ears.

A familiar laugh.

My body froze.

Slowly, I turned.

And there they were.

Xander.

And her.

Isabel.

She stood close to him. Too close. Laughing at something he said, her hand brushing his arm like it belonged there. He leaned toward her, relaxed, comfortable.

Happy.

My stomach dropped.

Lying bastard.

So this was work.

This was nothing.

I stood there, invisible, watching the man I was still married to play house with his secretary.

My fingers tightened around the basket as my heart cracked open all over again.

And suddenly, everything made sense.

I stood there for a few seconds longer than I should have.

Watching them.

So immediately I left, he left too.

What a joke.

My lips pressed together as I turned away, my chest tight, my head buzzing. I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me react. I refused to let Isabel see pain written on my face like she had won some grand prize.

I didn’t come here for this.

So I breathed in. Slowly. Deeply.

And I kept shopping.

I moved to the skincare aisle and picked up a new toner, one I’d been meaning to try for months but never did because Xander always said it was unnecessary. I grabbed a body spray next. Then a deodorant. Small things. Personal things. Things that belonged to me.

It felt strange. Empowering. Sad.

Every item I placed in the basket felt like a quiet declaration. I’m still here. I still matter.

I told myself I didn’t care where Xander was in the store. I told myself I was done looking for him.

But fate had other plans.

When I turned into the stationery section, my steps slowed without my permission.

They were there.

Carbon paper. Pencils. Pens. Ink.

Stationery.

Of all places.

Xander stood beside Isabel, holding a pack of pens while she spoke animatedly, her fingers brushing his wrist like it was natural. Like it had always been that way.

This time, he noticed me.

His head snapped up. His eyes widened just slightly. Shock flickered across his face before he masked it with something unreadable.

For a second, no one spoke.

Isabel followed his gaze and turned.

Her eyes met mine.

I didn’t look away.

I took her in calmly. The neat hair. The polished look. The woman who smiled too much and stood too close to what was never hers.

Then I shifted my gaze to Xander.

Not with anger.

Not with tears.

With clarity.

“So this is work,” I said quietly.

Isabel stiffened.

Xander opened his mouth. “Lena—”

I lifted my hand.

“No,” I said. “Don’t.”

My voice didn’t shake. That surprised even me.

I glanced at Isabel once more, letting my eyes linger just long enough to make her uncomfortable. Not threatened. Just seen.

Then I turned back to Xander.

“This time,” I said evenly, “don’t be late to court.”

His jaw clenched.

I didn’t wait for a response.

I walked past them, my heels steady against the tiled floor, my heart pou

nding but my head held high. I didn’t look back. Not once.

Outside, the sunlight hit my face and I inhaled sharply, like I’d been underwater for too long and had finally surfaced.

My hands were shaking now.

Because deep down in me m …it hurt to let him go. To let him have her.