Chapter 2

The morning sun filtered through my blinds, casting thin stripes of light across the boxes scattered throughout my apartment. I hadn't slept. How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I saw them together—Chase and Hallie—in our bed. The bed we'd chosen together. The bed where we'd planned our future.

My phone had buzzed all night with notifications. Friends expressing shock. Acquaintances offering sympathy. My mother demanding explanations. I'd ignored them all.

The intercom system crackled to life, startling me from my daze.

"Emily!" Chase's voice blared through the speaker. "Please let me up. We need to talk."

I stared at the intercom panel as if it might offer guidance. It didn't.

"Emily, I know you're there." His voice sounded rough, desperate. "I've been calling you all night."

I touched the button briefly. "Go home, Chase."

"This isn't you, Em." He was using that tone—the one that used to make me feel like I was being unreasonable. "What we have is eight years. Eight years doesn't get thrown away because of one mistake."

"One mistake?" My voice cracked despite my efforts to stay calm. "You slept with my stepsister in our bed the night before our engagement party."

"It wasn't like that." I could hear the desperation in his voice. "We had too much to drink. It didn't mean anything."

The intercom system went quiet for a moment. Then: "Please, Emily. I love you. Only you. It's always been you."

I pressed my forehead against the cool wall beside the intercom. Eight years. High school sweethearts. College visits where he'd drive four hours just to see me for dinner. Our first apartment together. The proposal on New Year's Eve.

All of it flashed through my mind in an instant.

"Emily!" His voice cracked. "I'll wait here all day if I have to. Please just talk to me."

I moved to the window and pulled back the curtain. Sure enough, Chase was standing in front of our building, his hair disheveled, clothes rumpled. He must have come straight from wherever he'd spent the night after I changed the locks.

"Fine," I said finally, pressing the button. "You want to talk? Let's talk."

I took a deep breath and moved to the door. My hands trembled slightly as I turned the deadbolt. I hadn't expected to face him so soon. Hadn't prepared for the rush of emotions I knew would come.

The door swung open.

Chase looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his usually immaculate appearance in disarray. For a moment, something twisted in my chest—a remnant of the love I'd felt for him.

"Thank you," he whispered, stepping forward. "Emily, please believe me. It was a mistake. A drunken mistake that meant nothing."

"Nothing?" The word tasted bitter on my tongue. "You destroyed everything we had for nothing?"

"I didn't—" He reached for my hands, but I pulled back. "What Hallie and I did... it wasn't real. You're the one I love. You're the one I want to marry."

"Don't." I held up a hand. "Don't say her name in this apartment ever again."

"Emily, please." He moved closer, desperation etched across his face. "Eight years. We've been together since we were kids. You can't throw that away."

"I'm not throwing it away," I said quietly. "It's already gone. You made sure of that when you brought her here."

"It was one night!" He ran his hands through his hair. "One stupid night that I regret more than anything. But our relationship—what we have—that's real."

"What we had," I corrected him. "Past tense, Chase. It's over."

"No." He shook his head violently. "No, it's not over. I won't let it be over."

He grabbed my wrist suddenly, his fingers digging into my skin. "You have to listen to me."

"Let go of me." I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

"Please, Emily." His voice broke. "Please."

"Let. Go." I yanked my arm free with enough force to stumble backward.

Chase reached for me again, his foot catching on the edge of a box I'd packed yesterday. He lost his balance, arms windmilling as he tried to steady himself.

Time seemed to slow as he teetered at the top of the stairs.

"Chase!" I lunged forward, but it was too late.

He fell backward, tumbling down the first few steps before his head struck the edge of a step with a sickening crack.

His body came to rest halfway down the staircase, unnaturally still.

"Chase?" I whispered, frozen in the doorway.

He didn't move.