Chapter 2

I woke to the sound of pounding on my front door, so violent I feared the hinges might give way. Sunlight streamed through the curtains I hadn't bothered to close last night after my encounter with nineteen-year-old Shane's voice—a voice that still echoed in my mind, making me question my sanity.

"Amy! Open the goddamn door!"

Shane's voice—his real voice, not the tender plea from yesterday—thundered through the house. The difference was jarring. Where the younger Shane had been pleading and heartbroken, this voice carried nothing but entitlement and rage.

I pulled my robe around me and made my way downstairs, each step heavier than the last. The security panel by the door flashed green, confirming what I already knew—I'd changed every code, every lock. A small act of rebellion that felt like the only control I had left.

"I know you're in there!" Another series of thuds. "The security company called me. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I stood on the other side of the door, my hand hovering over the knob. Part of me wanted to let him rage until he exhausted himself. Part of me wanted to fling open the door and scream about the photos Celeste had sent, to make him face the evidence of his betrayal.

Instead, I unlocked the door and pulled it open, keeping my expression carefully blank.

Shane burst in, his perfectly styled hair slightly disheveled, his eyes wild with anger. He wore the navy cashmere sweater I'd given him last Christmas, and the sight of it—my gift on his back while he came to yell at me—made something twist painfully in my chest.

"What the hell, Amy?" He gestured wildly at the door. "Changing locks now? Really?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "I think we both know why."

His eyes narrowed, then dropped to my neck. The change in his expression was immediate—shock, then mounting fury.

"Where is it?" His voice dropped dangerously low. "Where's my grandmother's watch?"

My hand instinctively went to my throat where the delicate chain and antique pocket watch had hung for years. The bare skin there felt naked, vulnerable.

"Answer me!" Shane stepped closer, his voice rising again. "That watch has been in my family for generations. It's not yours to hide away because you're having some kind of breakdown!"

The cruelty of his words stole my breath. A breakdown. As if my pain was an inconvenience, a malfunction rather than the natural response to his betrayal.

*"Amy,"* a different voice whispered in my ear—younger, desperate. *"Please. Remember the night I gave it to you? At Griffith Observatory? You were wearing that blue dress with the stars on it. I told you that time would never change how I felt about you."*

I closed my eyes briefly, the memory washing over me with painful clarity. The cool night air. The way the city lights had stretched below us like a mirror of the sky. The weight of the watch as Shane placed it in my palm, his eyes shining with tears and promise.

*"This is your first chance, Amy. Please."*

I opened my eyes to find Shane still glaring at me, waiting. This man before me bore no resemblance to the boy who had given me his heart along with his family heirloom. But that boy's voice in my ear was breaking, pleading.

"It's in my jewelry box," I said quietly. "I'll get it."

I climbed the stairs to our bedroom—my bedroom now—aware of Shane following close behind. From the ornate box on my dresser, I lifted out the watch. The gold caught the light, the intricate engravings telling a story of love that spanned generations. A story that was never meant to include me after all.

I held it for a moment, my thumb tracing the familiar pattern on its case. Then I turned and placed it in Shane's outstretched palm.

"There," I said, searching his face for any flicker of remembrance, any shadow of the boy who had once promised me forever.

But all I saw was cold satisfaction as his fingers closed around it.

"You should have just given it to me when I asked," he said, tucking the watch into his pocket. "No need for drama."

With that, he turned and walked away, taking with him not just the watch, but the first of my three chances.

Two weeks later, I was sitting across from Sarah at Lumière, picking at a salad I couldn't taste. My friend had insisted on lunch, worried about how much weight I'd lost since discovering Shane's betrayal.

"You need to eat something," Sarah urged, pushing the bread basket toward me. "Wasting away won't fix anything."

I forced a smile and took a piece of bread I knew would sit like ash in my mouth. "I'm trying."

"Have you talked to Marcus again about the divorce papers?"

I started to answer when Sarah's expression changed, her eyes widening as they fixed on something over my shoulder. "Amy, don't turn around."

Of course, I immediately turned.

Across the street at Cecconi's, Shane sat at an outdoor table with Celeste. They were laughing, their heads close together in a way that spoke of intimacy and shared secrets. But it wasn't their proximity that made my blood freeze in my veins.

It was the glint of gold at Celeste's wrist.

My grandmother's watch—Shane's most precious family heirloom—dangled from her delicate wrist as she gestured animatedly. The watch that had symbolized our timeless love was now an accessory for the woman who had helped destroy it.

"Oh my God," Sarah whispered, reaching across to squeeze my hand. "Amy, is that—"

"Yes," I said, my voice hollow. "It is."

As if sensing my gaze, Celeste looked up. Our eyes met across the distance, and a slow, triumphant smile spread across her face. She deliberately raised her arm, making sure I could see the watch clearly, then turned to show it off to another couple at their table.

She was taking photos now, angling her wrist to capture the watch in perfect detail for social media. For everyone to see. For me to see.

The second chance was gone, dissolved in the acid of this new betrayal.