Chapter 1

I checked my watch for the twentieth time in two hours. 7:45 PM. The candle at my table had burned down halfway, the flame flickering like my dwindling hope. Around me, couples leaned toward each other across white tablecloths, sharing whispered conversations and laughter that felt like a mockery of my solitude.

"Would you like me to refill your water, Mrs. Sterling?" The waiter approached with practiced sympathy, his eyes betraying pity I couldn't bear.

"Yes, please." I forced a smile. "And my husband will be here any minute."

The same lie I'd been telling for the past hour and a half. As he walked away, I reached for my phone again, scrolling through our text messages.

*On my way. Traffic. Sorry.*

That was forty minutes ago.

I closed my eyes, letting myself drift back to our first anniversary dinner. William had rented out the entire rooftop of the Fairmont Hotel. We'd danced under string lights with the San Francisco skyline glittering around us. He'd held me close, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered promises of forever. Back when his touch still made my skin tingle and his absence left me counting minutes.

A commotion at the entrance pulled me from the memory. William strode through the restaurant with the confidence of a man who had never worried about being left waiting. His tailored suit hugged his broad shoulders, his dark hair perfectly styled despite the "traffic" he'd claimed delayed him.

"Isabella." He leaned down to kiss my cheek, his cologne—expensive and familiar—enveloping me. "I'm so sorry. The meeting ran late and then the bridge was a nightmare."

I wanted to be angry. I wanted to demand where he'd really been. Instead, I heard myself say, "It's okay. You're here now."

He sat across from me, immediately signaling for the waiter. "Let's get a bottle of that Cabernet we had in Napa last month."

"The 2015 Reserve?" I asked, surprised he remembered.

"Of course." His smile flashed, dimples appearing in a way that used to make my heart skip. "It's our anniversary. Three years deserves something special."

The dinner passed in a blur of expensive wine and carefully curated conversation. William talked about his latest acquisition, a tech startup with promising AI applications. I nodded and asked appropriate questions, all while wondering if the hollow feeling in my chest was visible to the outside world.

"I have something for you," he said as we finished dessert, reaching into his jacket.

He pulled out a rectangular package wrapped in silver paper with a small blue bow. My fingers trembled slightly as I accepted it.

"Open it," he urged, a boyish excitement briefly replacing his usual controlled expression.

I carefully unwrapped the package to reveal a box containing a jigsaw puzzle. The image on the cover showed a lighthouse on a rugged California coastline, waves crashing against rocks below, the sky painted in dramatic sunset hues.

"It's 999 pieces," William explained, reaching across to touch my hand. "One piece a day. And when you place the final piece, any wish you make will be yours."

Something warm unfurled in my chest—a dangerous feeling I recognized as hope.

"William, this is..." I trailed off, genuinely touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

"I know things have been..." he hesitated, his eyes meeting mine with rare vulnerability, "...busy lately. But I want you to know how much you mean to me."

For a moment, I glimpsed the man I'd fallen in love with—the one who wrote me poetry and brought me wildflowers just because it was Tuesday.

We drove home in comfortable silence, my fingers tracing the outline of the lighthouse on the puzzle box. Maybe this was the turning point. Maybe this was where we found our way back to each other.

But at 11:30 PM, as I was preparing for bed, William emerged from the shower with his hair freshly styled, not wet.

"Emergency meeting with the Tokyo team," he explained, adjusting his cufflinks. "Don't wait up."

Before I could respond, he was gone, the sound of the front door closing with a quiet finality.

I sat on the edge of our bed, the puzzle box in my lap. On impulse, I opened my phone and tapped Instagram. The algorithm knew me too well—the first post in my feed was from Genevieve Vance, San Francisco's most followed society blogger.

My finger froze above the screen.

There was William, his arm draped casually around a striking woman with wild auburn curls. Charlotte Hayes. His first love. The caption read: *"Welcome back to SF, @CharlotteHayesArt! Celebrating with tech mogul William Sterling at tonight's exclusive soiree."* The timestamp: twenty minutes ago.

My hands shook as I opened the puzzle box and dumped the pieces onto our bed. Nine hundred and ninety-nine fragments of a lighthouse I couldn't see whole. With trembling fingers, I selected a single edge piece and placed it on the nightstand.

Day one.

And as I stared at that solitary puzzle piece, something inside me began to change.