Chapter 2

A month ago, Emily called at eight o'clock. She was sobbing and screaming into the phone so loudly that I heard every word even though Edward was the one holding the phone. Someone was harassing her at some business dinner.

Edward flew into a panic. He didn't even say goodbye. He just bolted out the door so frantically that he had only managed to put on one sock.

For someone as meticulous as him, it was the first time I'd seen him leave a mess like that behind.

That same night, I started bleeding.

By the time I got to the hospital, the baby was already gone.

As those cold instruments scraped inside me, I made my decision.

Edward and I were done.

Now he just stared at me, looking lost. "You didn't..."

"Call you?" I cut him off with a bitter laugh. "Go check your phone. See how many times I tried. Hundreds."

Emily was in "danger," and one wordless phone call was all it took for him to run to her side.

But when I was the one in real danger, losing our child, my hundreds of calls went unanswered.

Edward's face hardened, his patience finally snapping.

"It was just a baby," he spat. "You probably wouldn't have been a good mother anyway. Maybe it's for the best that you lost it!"

He let out a snort, just like every other fight, and stalked into the room, slamming the door behind him.

I remained on the sofa, my fingers clenched around the mug, and slowly finished my water. Then, I stood up and began to pack.

We had been married for five years. We had gone from honeyed days to frostbitten nights.

Every fight ended with me apologizing first.

But this time? I refused to back down. I was done playing this game.

Once my suitcase was packed, I walked out of the house and didn't look back.

In his study, Edward scrolled the web like nothing had happened, waiting for the familiar knock and the apology that always followed.

This time, he sat there till dawn. The house stayed quiet.

When it was almost time for work, he finally stepped into the dining room. But the table was bare. The entire house was empty.

I was gone.

*****

I was Edward's first love.

No one bet on us in the beginning.

He was the polished boy from a rich family, while I was the girl with rainbow hair, cigarettes, cheap whiskey, tattoos, and a temper.

We were from two different worlds.

We met because a couple of punks cornered him in a filthy alley and asked for 700 bucks.

He had grown up rich, a model student who had never seen real ugliness up close. So he had no idea how to handle scumbags like these.

I happened to walk by when one of them catcalled me. "Cute skirt. Why don't you come show us up close?"

I spun on my heel and waded in. Ten minutes later, they were on the ground, crying for their moms. I hauled Edward out like a stray cat from a storm drain.

Never in a million years did I imagine that after that day, Edward would pursue me relentlessly.

He didn't know how far apart we were. But I did. When you grow up eating grit, you learn what's yours and what isn't.

I kept my distance.

I gave the snacks and breakfasts he brought me to the homeless.

The expensive gifts? I never touched them.

If we crossed paths, I barely spared him a glance.

But Edward never gave up.

Everyone laughed at him, calling him my rich, lovesick puppy. Some guys even jokingly asked him for advice. No one, not a single person, ever thought we would actually end up together.

One day, my father, in a drunken rage, beat me nearly to death. And Edward, the privileged rich boy, burst in and rushed me to the hospital.

I didn't shed a tear while they cleaned the wounds and stitched me up. But Edward cried like his heart was splitting.

"Why are you crying?" I asked, baffled. "I'm the one who's hurt, not you."

He looked at me with bloodshot eyes, tears streaming faster.

"Jo, could you please just take care of yourself? For me? I can't... I can't watch you get hurt like this anymore."

His look hit harder than any love song ever could.

I smiled and took his hand. "For you, I can try. But you'll have to be my boyfriend."

My face heated up the second those words tumbled out.

Edward nodded without hesitation.

From that day on, I stopped pushing him away.

And I told him a secret I'd never told anyone.

Every time my father beat my mother, he would show up afterward with some bargain rose from the flower shop.

So I made Edward a promise. If the day ever came that he loved someone else, he wouldn't have to say a word. He just had to bring me a rose.

"Just one rose," I told him, "and I'll walk away and never bother you again."

Edward just smiled at me. "Don't worry," he said softly. "That's never going to happen. We're forever. In our love story, there will never be any roses."