Chapter 2

I pulled my two hard-shell suitcases from the top shelf of the hallway closet.

I did not touch the joint savings account.

I did not touch the mid-century credenza we bought together, nor the velvet armchair in the corner.

I packed only what was mine: my winter coats, my work blouses, my birth certificate, my passport, and the silver watch my father had given me for college graduation.

At 8:15 p.m., my phone chimed with notifications from our college alumni group chat.

Someone had posted a short video with the caption: Look at these two! Cutest engagement ever.

I tapped the screen.

It was at an upscale private dining room in River North.

Behind them were six-foot rented marquee letters glowing against the brick wall: M & E.

A professional photographer was kneeling near the table, capturing Evan slipping a velvet box into Maya's hands.

There were eighteen guests around the table, holding crystal champagne flutes and laughing.

My mind drifted back two years, to our fifth anniversary.

I had sat alone at a corner booth at Gibson's Steakhouse for two and a half hours with a cooling plate of oysters.

Evan had called me at 9:00 p.m., claiming he was trapped at the office auditing emergency tax filings.

Over the receiver, beneath the low murmur of background noise, I had distinctly heard a bartender call out, "Two spicy margaritas for Maya!" followed by Maya's familiar, high-pitched laugh.

When I asked him about it that night, he told me I was being paranoid, that Maya had simply dropped off takeout for the team.

I had believed him.

At 9:30 p.m., Evan's name flashed on my phone with a FaceTime request.

I set the phone against the coffee table lamp and answered.

Evan was sitting in the corner of a dimly lit lounge, wearing his charcoal wool suit with a white gardenia pinned to his lapel.

"Hey," he said, keeping his voice low. "How are things at the apartment?"

"Fine," I said.

"It was a little emotional tonight, but the grandmother was so happy," he said, rubbing his temple. "I promise, Claire, next year when we do our wedding, I'll give you something twice as big as this."

Before I could answer, Maya stepped into the frame behind him.

She was wearing a bias-cut white silk dress with thin straps.

I recognized the dress immediately.

Two years ago, when she didn't have the money for a formal gown, I had used my employee discount at Nordstrom to buy it for her.

As someone called Maya's name from across the room, Evan naturally reached up and adjusted the thin strap on her shoulder, his fingers lingering on her bare skin for a split second before falling away.

It was an effortless, practiced motion.

"Evan, they're cutting the cake!" Maya said, tugging lightly at his sleeve.

"I have to go," Evan told the camera. "Get some sleep. See you at eight tomorrow."

I didn't say goodbye. I tapped the red button and ended the call.

A chime sounded from my laptop--my airline booking to Portland was confirmed.

A second later, a new hotel confirmation appeared at the top of the screen.