Chapter 3

Back at the apartment, I started packing.

This was the place Olivia and I had picked out together. She used to say that when we came home from work, the entryway light would be on, there'd be hot soup in the kitchen, and the balcony would be full of the camellias I loved. Just thinking about it, she said, made her happy.

But now I realized—this home was full of Dylan's traces everywhere.

The fridge was stocked with his favorite white peach sparkling water. His jacket was draped over the couch. And hanging next to my groom's suit in the closet, the best man's tuxedo was noticeably more polished than my own.

I stood in the walk-in closet, staring at those two suits side by side. A dull ache spread through my chest.

The wedding hadn't even started yet, and whatever space in Olivia's heart was meant for me had already been slowly filled by Dylan.

I didn't cry. I just gathered my documents, my passport, and a few everyday clothes into a suitcase.

Halfway through, I heard the door unlock. Olivia was back.

She was holding a small jewelry bag, her voice carrying that familiar soothing tone. "Babe, don't be mad anymore. I stopped by a store and saw these—remember you said you liked obsidian?"

She opened the box. Inside was a pair of obsidian cufflinks.

I did love obsidian. I'd once stood outside a shop window staring at a pair for a long time, but they were too expensive. Olivia had held my hand back then and smiled. "When we get married, I'll buy you something even better."

Now she'd bought them. Cufflinks.

But I never wore French-cuff shirts. The only person who did was Dylan.

Olivia wrapped her arms around me. "Can we just let tonight go, please?"

I looked down at the cufflinks. Before I could say anything, a receipt slipped out of the gift bag. The amount was staggering—a tie that cost ten times what the cufflinks did.

I recognized the brand. Half an hour ago, Dylan had posted a photo on social media. In it, he was wearing that very tie, grinning brightly. The caption read: [Sponsored by someone special—ready to be the handsomest best man next week.]

I stared at that receipt, and the tears came before I could stop them.

Olivia's patience suddenly cooled. "Why are you crying again? Ethan, this is really exhausting."

The words hit me like a slap. I froze.

There was a time when Olivia would panic if I cried. She'd fumble to wipe my tears, pull me into her arms, and soothe me over and over, "Ethan, don't cry. When you cry, my heart falls apart."

Once, I woke up crying from a nightmare in the middle of the night. She'd driven across three blocks just to bring me a bowl of hot chicken soup. "Ethan, you didn't have anyone to comfort you when you were little," she'd said. "From now on, every time you cry, I'll be there."

Back then, Olivia actually held my tears in her heart.

Now all I got was: I'm really exhausted.

I realized then—when your tears can't reach someone's heart anymore, it's time to stop shedding them.

I wiped my face and said, quietly, "I'm fine."

Olivia seemed to relax. She stepped closer and leaned in to kiss me. I turned my face away instinctively.

Her expression went cold. She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "Fine. Take your space."

With that, she turned and walked into the study.

Later that night, as I was about to turn off the lights, the tablet by the bed lit up. Olivia was still logged into her messaging app. I'd only meant to turn the screen off—but the chat that popped up stopped me cold. Dylan's name burned into my eyes.

Dylan: [All patched up?]

Olivia: [No. He's getting harder to handle.]

Dylan sent a smiley face. [So did you make it up to him tonight?]

A few seconds passed. Then Olivia answered: [Don't even mention it. He turned me down. Honestly, fine by me—seven years in, I'm not really into him physically anymore. Good thing he pulled away, or I'd have had to force myself through it.]

I stared at those words. My eyes burned, but no more tears came.

So even being intimate with me—that had become something Olivia had to force herself to do.

I set the tablet down. I placed the obsidian cufflinks back in their gift bag, then left them on the entryway table, next to my engagement ring.

Like returning a dream I'd finally woken up from.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a confirmation. A flight booked for 3:00 AM tomorrow—destination: Ilyseland.

From now on, I'd fly to any city I wanted. But none of them would ever bring me back to Olivia.