Chapter 2

Why zero in on just those few?

"Irene, you're like a bowl of cereal—bland and forgettable, but hard to toss aside. But she's not; she's like a sweet candy, and I'm content to get lost in her."

A smile curved Duncan's lips—fond, almost sugary.

"The girl's fearless. She dragged me to an amusement park, and first thing, we hit the haunted house. She planted her hands on her hips, insisting she wasn't scared, but once we were in, she screamed and leaped into my arms, demanding I hold her.

"Her heart was pounding that day—thump, thump, thump. She threw her arms around my neck, cheeks burning, and planted a bold kiss on me. I should've pulled away, but I didn't..."

"Enough!"

My heart throbbed until it went numb; I was on the verge of breaking.

"Irene..."

"Duncan, please—I'm begging you, stop."

The living room plunged into eerie silence.

Then Duncan's phone buzzed.

He fished it out, shot me a glance, and answered without a second thought, right in front of me.

The girl's cloyingly sweet voice drifted from the speaker.

"I'm starving. When are you coming home?"

"Starving, huh?"

As Duncan glanced over, I bolted up almost on instinct, scrambling around the room.

"Yeah, the baby and I are both famished."

"Hang on; I'll be there soon to take care of you both."

A chill swept through me; I clutched my head, pressing hard.

What... what was I even searching for?

My phone.

Yeah, my phone.

What if I'd missed a critical work message?

What if an important call had slipped by?

"Be a good girl, babe. Just wait—I'll be over soon to keep you company."

"Honey, I love you! Muah."

I tried desperately to shut out the noise; I wished I could just go deaf.

But no such luck.

Duncan's easy, upbeat tone washed over me like a relentless wave.

It wasn't until my nails had drawn blood in my palm that I finally started to steady myself, little by little.

At some point, Duncan had hung up and stepped up behind me.

"She's getting antsy over there; I need to go.

"I'll handle things with my mom. If you don't want to head to the old house tomorrow, just stay put here."

He hesitated, then added, "Should I call the nanny back to spend the holiday with you?

"Though maybe that's not ideal—tomorrow's Christmas' Eve; people want to be with their families."

Duncan rambled on, lost in his own thoughts.

So he did realize tomorrow was Christmas' Eve, that holidays were for family time.

Then what did that make me?

Some total stranger, irrelevant to him?

I reached for the kettle and poured myself a cup of water.

The water trickled down my throat, ridding me of half the ice in my veins.

"Duncan, let's divorce."

In the foyer, Duncan froze mid-shoe.

"I promised I'd look after you forever, Irene. If that's what you want, you'll always be Mrs. Foster. We can pick up right where we left off."

"And her?"

"I'll get a villa and set her up on the side. She won't intrude on your life."

Duncan left.

The living room was a total wreck, and there I was, all alone in the middle of it.

Before heading out, he came over and gently wiped away my tears.

Then, with the same lips that had kissed me countless times, he uttered words that sliced right through me.

"Irene, just be good and do as I say. She won't try to take anything from you."

I trudged up the stairs in a daze and slipped back into our bedroom.

I gazed at our wedding photo.

The girl in it was beaming, absolutely glowing with joy.

I turned away and headed to the bathroom to splash some water on my face.

The woman staring back from the mirror looked wrecked—eyes puffy and red, cheeks smeared with tear tracks.

Slowly, I lifted my hand.

Irene, this isn't who you are.

The cold water stung my skin as I tried to convince myself not to let it get to me.

But after all these years together, how could I not feel shattered?

I flopped onto the bed, desperately wishing the whole thing had been nothing but a nightmare.

But when I woke up, the memories from yesterday flooded back, impossible to shake—they were painfully real.

My phone vibrated; it was a call from Duncan's mom Briana Foster.

I ignored it, staring blankly at my computer screen.

A few minutes later, it rang again.

After a beat of hesitation, I hit accept.

"Irene, Merry Christmas! You and Duncan make sure to head over early, okay?"

I clutched the phone, at a loss for words.

"Irene?"

"Hasn't Duncan mentioned anything to you guys?"

"What's wrong? Did you two have a fight? That little punk isn't picking up his phone."

"It's nothing."

"Well, good—as long as everything's okay. Just get here with Duncan soon."

Some conversations were better face-to-face than over the phone.