Chapter 2

It was one in the morning when the plane landed at Silverlake International Airport. I didn't tell my parents. I just dragged my suitcase into a cab and went home.

I opened the door with the spare key. A dim nightlight was still on in the living room. My mom was scared of the dark and had a habit of getting up during the night. I quietly set my suitcase by the entryway and changed my shoes.

The second I stepped into the living room, my mom's bedroom door opened. She came out in a robe, still half asleep, and stared at me in shock. "Lottie? Why are you back?"

She hurried over, grabbed my hand, and looked me over from head to toe. "Why did you come back alone? Where's Andrew? Did something happen?"

My dad woke up too and came out in his slippers. The moment I saw their anxious, worried faces, the heart that had gone stiff in the airport wind softened all at once. I smiled and kept my tone light.

"My company suddenly sent me back to Silverlake City for a project. It's urgent. Andrew couldn't get away, so I came on ahead by myself." It was a lie. I didn't want them to know my marriage might be falling apart, at least not yet.

My mom looked half convinced. "Really? Then why didn't you call first?" "It was late. I didn't want to wake you up."

My dad patted her shoulder. "All right, the kid's traveled all this way. Let her shower and get some rest." Then he looked at me. "Hungry? I'll make you a bowl of noodles." I nodded. "Yeah, I am."

When the steaming bowl of egg noodles was set in front of me, I almost cried into it. It had been years since anyone asked me if I was hungry.

In Andrew's house, I was always the one cooking, always the one taking care of everyone else. Mary only handled cleaning and groceries.

Andrew had a bad stomach, so whenever he came home from business dinners, I had to make him soothing soup. Helen Shaw had arthritis, so on rainy days I made ginger tea for her ahead of time. Hannah Shaw was picky, so I learned to bake all kinds of little cakes for her.

For eight years, I had turned into their private cook, housekeeper, and driver. My own field, everything I had once loved, had been shoved into a corner and left to gather dust. I used to think all that giving would earn me love and respect in return. What a joke.

After I finished eating, I went back to the room that had been mine before I got married. It was spotless, and the sheets smelled like sunshine and clean laundry. My mom used to say she cleaned it every week because she always felt like I'd come home one day.

I lay down on the soft bed and slept through the night without a single dream.

The next morning, I woke to birds outside and the calls of street vendors below. Sunlight slipped through the curtain gap, warm and gentle. I stretched, and every bone in my body felt loose and free.

For those five days, I kept my phone off and cut all contact with that side of my life. I went to the market with my mom, played chess with my dad, visited my elderly grandmother, and met up with old classmates I hadn't seen in forever.

They were all surprised by how much I'd changed. They said I used to look like a flower raised in a greenhouse, pretty but lifeless. Now, even though I looked tired, there was finally light in my eyes.

That was when I realized just how suffocated I'd been in the eight years after marrying Andrew. I had almost forgotten what Charlotte Quinn looked like when she wasn't Mrs. Shaw.

Those five days were the easiest I'd had since marrying him. I had even started craving that kind of freedom. If I could, I honestly wanted to live like that forever.

I turned my phone back on on the afternoon of the fifth day. Missed calls and unread messages flooded in all at once.

Some were from Helen Shaw. Some were from Hannah Shaw. The only one missing was Andrew. Not a single call. Not one message.

The latest was a voice message Helen had sent half an hour earlier, sharp and nasty as ever: [Charlotte Quinn, what is wrong with you? You're not answering calls or texts now? Getting bold, are you? Andrew's home alone—who's supposed to look after him? Have you forgotten your place? Get back here this instant!]

I listened to the whole thing without expression, deleted it, and then an unfamiliar number called.