chapter two

Jade's home was a mess. Her paint stained clothes were thrown all over the floor, dirty dishes and cans of soda peeked from under her bed.

Her unfinished works hung all over her walls.

Clara stepped over an open pizza box and pushed aside a pile of clothes.

She made her way into the storage room Jade had turned into her mini studio. The sharp contrast was blinding.

Her paints, brushes and her other painting tools were carefully arranged on a cupboard.

Beside the cupboard were her storage boxes.

Her finished works were carefully arranged on the walls, the unfinished ones leaning against the walls.

Jade sat in front of her easel with headphones covering her ears.

Her knee was propped up against her face.

She leaned into her latest work, carefully making brush strokes on the canvas.

"Jade!" Clara yelled.

Jade flinched, pulling off the headphones.

"What is wrong with you?" She dropped her paintbrushes and the headphones.

"How did you know it was me?" Clara asked as she sat beside Jade.

Jade pulled her in for a hug and kissed the top of her head.

"Because you're the only one with the spare key, idiot."

"I'm hungry." Clara propped herself up from the floor and headed straight for the kitchen.

Jade rolled her eyes and followed behind her.

Clara was already opening cupboards and drawers.

"Okay, what's wrong?" Jade leaned against the door, her eyes following Clara as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a drink.

Clara opened the bottle and chugged down half its content in three gulps.

She placed the bottle on the tabletop and wiped her mouth.

"He refused to sign."

"Wow... Shocker," Jade mused.

She placed both her hands on her face and gasped in an exaggerated manner.

"All he had to do was sign. I really don't get it."

Jade stepped back and waited for what would come next.

Every time Clara was stressed, she would pace up and down and then randomly decide to cook something, and then she'd spend the entire time complaining about Jade's lack of "culinary etiquette," as she called it.

"Why don't you have any spices left?" Clara hissed, as she peered into the open cupboard. "What's the point of having a spice cupboard if there are no spices in it?"

Clara slammed the cupboard shut so hard that some ceiling dust fell to the ground.

Jade groaned and walked towards her. She held both her hands and squeezed them gently.

"He'll sign them. He's just being annoying."

"No, he won't. You didn't see the look on his face." Clara's face turned red, and tears began to form beneath her eyes.

Jade pulled her into a tight hug and let her tears soak her shirt.

"I was finally going to be free," she mumbled.

"I know, sweetheart." Jade rubbed her head.

"Three years. Three years married to Mr. Grumpy Pants." She pulled away from Jade, wiping the tears from her face.

"Do you know we never even shared a meal together?"

Clara rubbed the space between her eyes and lowered herself onto the cold tiles.

Jade took a spot beside her, the both of them pressed against each other in her cramped kitchen.

"I know you think this means you'll have to put your plans on hold." Jade tilted her head.

"The restaurant was supposed to be the thing I'd do after the divorce." Clara's lips trembled as she let her tears roll down her face.

"I'm just saying, he's not going to stop you from opening a restaurant." Jade wiped the tears off her face.

She hated seeing Clara like this, and it made her chest tighten up. She'd never get used to it, especially because Clara rarely cried.

She'd do everything but cry.

"I know. He doesn't really care what I do." Clara sniffled.

"Then, do it. You've wanted this for as long as I've known you."

Clara nodded, wiping off the remaining tears. She rose to her feet and pointed at the ceiling.

"I won't let you win, Mr. Ford!" she yelled.

Jade laughed. She felt her chest loosen up.

Now this was the Clara she grew up with.

"I'm glad you feel better."

"He's just so infuriating." Clara thought of how he had barely reacted the entire time. Maybe he was a sociopath.

"Aren't all husbands?" Jade teased.

Clara glared at her.

"I don't think all husbands color-code their socks."

Jade giggled. She imagined the cold Alexander Ford bending over a drawer, arranging his socks according to their colors.

"Are you serious?" she gasped.

Clara nodded.

"He color-codes everything. His ties, suits, even his pens."

"Clara, your husband is a clean freak and you're a chaos junkie. How the hell did you guys stay married for three years?"

Clara laughed.

"I don't think he knows I'm a—"

"Wait!" Clara screamed. She jumped up and down and twirled.

"He'd probably go insane if I rearranged his socks." She held Jade's shoulders and shook her violently.

"That's it!"

"Oh, Jade, you're a genius." Clara hugged her and squealed.

"I am?"

"I'm going to frustrate him into signing the papers." Clara shook her hips and burst into a cartoonish laugh.

"I don't think I follow." Jade scratched her neck.

She wondered if the stress had finally soaked into Clara's brain.

"I won't ask him to sign it anymore. He'll sign it himself when he becomes sick of me."

"I'm going to be the worst wife to ever exist."

"So your genius plan is to be super annoying until he gets so mad he divorces you?" Jade raised an eyebrow.

"Yes!"

Clara spent the rest of the evening sprawled on the floor of Jade's studio.

She went on about all the terrible things she would do to Alexander. Jade almost felt bad for him... almost.

Clara left Jade's place in a better mood than she had been when she arrived.

Her plan to be free was still in motion.

Her phone buzzed in her purse, and she pulled it out.

She stared at her phone screen. He was the reason she got into this stupid contract in the first place.

But she would gladly do it again.

Her dad was alive and healthy, and that was all that mattered to her.