Chapter 2
The drive home was silent.
Outside, neon lights streamed by like an endless river, blurring seven years of memories into something unrecognizable.
"Is what they said true?" I broke first. My voice came out rough, almost like someone else's.
Andrew's breath caught for just a moment.
The wheels rolled over a speed bump, giving the car a slight jolt.
He signaled without a word and slowly pulled onto an empty service road.
A quiet click as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
He loosened his tie and pulled out a cigarette from the box on the dash—the same box I'd given him for his birthday, the first year we were together. He'd smiled and said, "As long as I have you, I don't need these. I'm quitting."
The lighter flared. The orange glow caught in his eyes for a second.
The instant the smoke spread through the car, I started coughing hard.
Ever since the miscarriage three years ago, the lingering health issues had never left me—and Andrew knew that better than anyone.
"Emily," his voice drifted through the haze of smoke, calm and detached, as if we were just talking about the weather. "Is it really worth all this, just because I took in some stray?"
I turned and stared at him.
Five full seconds. Just to make sure those words had actually come out of his mouth.
"Stray?" My voice started shaking. "Andrew, that's a human being. And you call this taking in a stray?"
He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his profile half-lit by the streetlights, half swallowed by shadow.
"So what do you want me to do?" he shot back, his voice heavy with a weariness I'd never heard before. "She's already tried to kill herself once. There was blood everywhere—she almost died, and I rushed her to the hospital and barely saved her life. Emily, do you really want to push her to the point where she dies?"
Every word felt like a blade going in sideways.
"So," I said slowly, "you're keeping her around because you're afraid she'll die?"
"Because if she dies, it'll ruin my reputation!" he snapped, his voice suddenly rising before he quickly lowered it again. "Don't be so stubborn. I'm back. Isn't that enough?"
So that was his idea of "coming back."'
Somehow the funniest and most devastating thing I'd ever heard.
"Andrew." I leaned back in my seat, suddenly too tired to fight. "Do you remember before we got married—I asked what you'd do if you ever fell in love with someone else?"
His fingers froze around the cigarette.
"You said," I finished for him, "If that day ever comes, I'll divorce you first. I'll never lie to you."
The only sound was the low hum of the AC.
"Back then, I told you," I turned to look out the window as the rain started tapping softly against the glass, "'Andrew, if you ever cheat on me, I won't cry or throw a fit.
"'I'll just walk away quietly and never see you again.'"
The moment I finished, his expression shifted—shock, confusion, and underneath it, anger.
"Don't you dare threaten me with that," he said, stubbing out his cigarette, his tone turning cold. "Emily, let me make this clear—divorce is off the table. You're Mrs. Lawson, and that's not changing. As for the women—when I'm done, they'll be gone."
When he was done with them.
So casual. So weightless. A death sentence for seven years, delivered like a footnote.
And he sentenced himself, too.
Suddenly, I laughed.
A short, bitter sound—and then the tears came before I could stop them. I wiped them away fast.
"Fine," I said. My voice was steadier than I expected. "Mrs. Lawson. Sure.
"From today on, you keep your stray, and I'll keep the title.
"We'll stay out of each other's way."
With that, I pushed open the car door.
The night wind rushed in, icy rain stinging as it hit me, making me shiver to the bone.
"Where are you going?" He grabbed my wrist.
I looked down at his fingers—these same hands that had put a ring on me, wiped my tears, and found their way around another woman's waist.
"Let go," I said.
"Emily—"
"Let go of me."
He stared into my eyes, but whatever warmth he once found there was gone for good.
His fingers loosened, one by one.
I stepped out into the rain, never looking back.