Chapter 2

The sound of the camera shutter jolted Ethan out of his daze.

He practically threw Olivia aside, tripping over the sheets as he scrambled to get out of bed in a panic.

"Claire! Please, let me explain! It's not what you think!" Ethan's voice cracked with desperation as he pleaded.

I didn't even spare him a glance.

My eyes were fixed on my phone screen.

The photo was perfect.

The composition was flawless, the lighting soft and intimate.

The photo was so flawless, it could ruin someone's life in a single blow.

I opened up my private feed.

I hit the camera icon in the corner.

Then, I pulled up the photo from my gallery.

I didn't add a single word.

After all, the most soul-crushing truths never needed an explanation.

Then, I tapped on the "Who can see this" option.

From the list, I quickly found the group I'd made just for his family.

The group was called "Ethan's Family."

It had his parents, his grandparents, and all the family members he actually cared about.

They loved me to bits, already treating me like the future Mrs. Grant and the perfect addition to their family.

Just yesterday, his mom Linda Grant texted me, saying she'd hand-sewn a pair of pillowcases, just waiting for me to come home.

I tapped "Confirm."

Then, I clicked the "Post" button in the top-right corner.

The progress bar finished, and a little red dot popped up on my profile pic.

It was done.

I put my phone away and didn't even bother to look at those two on the bed.

To me, they were just two pieces of furniture, completely irrelevant.

Ethan rushed over, barefoot and wearing nothing but a shirt thrown on carelessly.

He reached out, trying to grab my hand.

"Claire! Please, delete that! I'm begging you! Just let me explain!"

He was so desperate, his words came out in a jumble, veins bulging on his forehead.

I took a step back, easily avoiding his touch.

My eyes stayed calm, as if he were just some random guy to me.

"Don't touch me," I said.

That was the first word I'd spoken to him since I stepped through the door.

My voice was soft, but cold as ice.

So cold, Ethan's hand froze halfway to me, suspended in the air.

His face was full of disbelief.

He probably expected me to lose it, scream at him, or demand an explanation.

Just like any woman who'd just been cheated on.

But I didn't.

Without another word, I turned and headed for the door.

The little bit of hope and excitement I'd brought with me was already completely shattered.

All that remained was an endless desolation inside me.

"Claire!" Ethan shouted behind me.

I didn't look back.

I yanked the door open and strode out.

Shutting the door behind me, I left all that betrayal and mess locked away forever.

On the entryway cabinet, the birthday cake I'd made myself, decorated with our chibi cartoon selves, just sat there, silent and forgotten.

It felt like the punchline to some twisted cosmic joke.

I left it behind.

Just like I left everything else in this house behind.

I pulled open the front door and walked out.

I rode the elevator down.

As I stepped out of the building, the night wind slapped my face, icy and sharp.

I flagged down a cab.

"To the airport," I said.

The driver asked, "Which terminal?"

I watched the scenery blur past outside the window and replied in a flat voice, "Doesn't matter. I want the soonest flight out, something that takes me as far away as possible."

Sitting in the airport lounge, I pulled out my phone.

There were dozens of missed calls from Ethan.

My messages were blowing up.

I didn't even bother to look at them.

I held down his profile picture on my phone.

Deleted his number.

Blocked him for good.

Did it all in one cold, effortless motion.

As the plane took off, I leaned against the window.

I watched the city I'd spent my whole life in for over twenty years shrink beneath me, turning into nothing but a tiny speck of light.

Goodbye, Ethan.

Goodbye to my stupid, broken love.