Chapter 2

When I opened the front door, three large suitcases blocked the hallway.

Two belonged to Ione. The smallest one was covered in pink stars.

Tamsin’s name hung from its handle.

I stepped around them and stopped.

The house no longer looked like mine.

The framed photographs I had chosen for the entryway were gone. The ceramic bowl from our trip to Rome had disappeared from the console. A child’s purple coat hung where my jacket had been.

Two cardboard boxes sat against the wall.

My decorations had been wrapped in newspaper and pushed inside them.

One box had TIFARA written across the top.

My hand tightened around my keys.

I had spent four months preparing this house.

I had chosen the curtains, lights, dishes, and furniture. I had paid for half the renovations. Every room held something I had saved for, cleaned, or repaired.

Now my things were in boxes.

Riven’s new family was already moving in.

Then, the master bathroom door opened. Ione walked out. She was drying her hair with my white towel.

She blinked at me in surprise. "Tifara? You are back so early."

I pressed my nails into my palms. I forced my anger down. "What is all this?"

"Riven said Tamsin and I should stay here. The house is only ten minutes from the hospital."

Her eyes moved toward the boxes.

"I thought I’d help make space."

"You packed my things."

"Only the decorations. Tamsin needs the house to feel calm."

She gave me a small, apologetic smile.

"Too many reminders of the wedding might confuse her."

The front door opened behind me. Riven entered with Tamsin asleep in his arms.

He saw me, then looked at the boxes.

"You are here," Riven said. "Good. Go pack up your things in the master bedroom."

He carried Tamsin to the couch and covered her with my blanket.

Ione moved beside him.

They looked like a family already.

I looked like the stranger standing in their hallway.

"My things?"

"Yes. Your clothes. Our engagement photos. All the wedding decorations," he said.

"Why?" I asked.

Riven frowned.

"Tamsin is a sick kid. She is very sensitive right now," he said. "I do not want her to feel like a temporary guest."

I looked at the packed boxes on the floor. "This is our marriage home. This is my house too."

Riven frowned and released a tired breath.

"Don’t take this too far."

He had married another woman that morning.

He had moved her into our home that afternoon.

Yet I was the one taking things too far.

"The school and hospital records need this address." Riven said. "Ione and Tamsin will use the main bedroom. Clear your closet before tonight."

"You’re stable, Tifara. You have money. You have somewhere else to go. They don’t."

My heart struck hard against my ribs.

There was the word he always used when he wanted something from me.

Stable.

It had once sounded like praise.

Now I understood what it meant.

My pain could wait. My plans could move. My home could be taken.

I was stable, so I was expected to survive every loss quietly.

Arguing would only give Riven another chance to call me unreasonable. I pulled out my phone.

His expression sharpened.

"What are you doing?"

I photographed the suitcases.

Then the boxes marked with my name.

I photographed Tamsin’s belongings, the medicine on the console, and Ione wearing Riven’s towel.

I opened the renovation folder stored on my phone.

Every payment was there.

The hardwood floor.

The kitchen cabinets.

The appliances.

The furniture.

Three years of receipts and transfers.

I walked into the living room and photographed every item I had paid for.

Riven watched me.

"If it makes you feel better to think that, be my guest."

I stayed silent and simply opened a new folder and named it:

PROPERTY AND PAYMENTS.

Then I sent everything to Severin.

She was my closest friend and a contract lawyer. If Riven wanted to treat our life like paperwork, I would keep mine in order.

Then, my email notification appeared a second later.

HR had sent the updated Seattle offer.

Permanent position.

Relocation support.

Twelve months of housing.

Final decision required within forty-eight hours.

I replied with one sentence.

Send me the final contract.

Riven looked at me and mistook preparation for anger.

He picked up Tamsin’s hospital bag.

"You have until Sunday to clear the bedroom."

Sunday.

I looked down at the Seattle contract.

The position started Monday.