Chapter 2

The next morning, I called a moving company.

Alex's villa was as big as a castle.

But after living there for five years, all I owned was the stuff packed into two suitcases.

They were filled with art supplies and old clothes.

I didn't take any of the designer bags or jewelry he'd given me.

I left them neatly arranged in the walk-in closet, with a note that read: [Back to the rightful owner. —Norah.]

While packing up my closet, I came across a blue knitting box covered in dust.

Inside was a navy blue scarf I never got to finish.

It was something I started knitting for Alex during our first winter as a married couple.

I was so clumsy back then. After half a month of trying, my fingers were pricked all over by the needles.

But before I could finish it, Mandy bought him a Hermès cashmere scarf.

He wore it every day, and whenever someone asked, he'd say, "Mandy got this for me. It's super warm."

I stared at the scarf for a long time.

Then, I casually tossed it in the trash.

It was all in the past.

The fridge in the kitchen was packed with groceries I'd bought the day before.

All of them were his favorites, like broccoli, beef, and sea bass.

I poured the milk down the drain and gave all the groceries to my neighbor, Emily Burke, an old lady from Grandland.

Emily looked puzzled. "Norah, these are all Alex's favorites."

I smiled. "I'm moving out. I won't have to buy them anymore."

Emily sighed and patted my hand with a relieved smile. "You finally figured it out, sweetheart. You deserve better."

Yeah. I deserved better.

Sadly, I didn't have much time left.

At noon, the movers loaded my suitcases into the truck.

I stood in the living room, taking one last look at this place.

I'd wasted twelve years of my youth here.

I said goodbye to Alex in my heart.

I hoped I would never see him again.

As I stepped out the front door, I ran into Alex, who was pulling up in his car.

He frowned when he saw the moving truck.

"So you're moving out?" Alex said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Nice performance, Norah. You're really playing the part."

I ignored him and headed for my car.

He grabbed my wrist, squeezing so hard that it hurt.

"Stop making a scene," he said impatiently. "Do you want the house? The car? Or the shares? Drop the lawsuit, and I'll give you whatever you want."

I yanked my hand free from his grip. "Alex, I don't love you anymore.

"I couldn't care less about your stuff. I want a divorce. Let's walk away clean. We don't owe each other anything."

He paused for a moment and then snorted with a mocking smile. "You don't love me anymore? Who are you kidding?

"Back then, you wouldn't take no for an answer. You gave up Patrinford School of Fine Arts to be with me.

"And you married a nobody like me. Wasn't all that because you loved me?"

"That was then. This is now," I said, my voice steady. "People change."

I got into my car and shut the door.

Through the rearview mirror, I saw Alex still standing there, his expression thunderous and grim.

I turned away, gazing out the window.

The rain in Loverto kept falling, blurring the city, like my hazy past.

I rented a cozy one-bedroom apartment in the city.

The sunlight poured in, and from the balcony, I could see the River Woodkims.

I set up my art supplies on the balcony and hung my paintings on the walls, one by one.

This was the life I'd always wanted.

It was simple, quiet, and just me.

Jeremy came by in the afternoon.

He brought me some fruit, some tiramisu cakes, and a few painkillers.

He helped me hang up the last painting, handling it gently.

Jeremy suddenly said, "You know, I saw you back at Catilora.

"You were painting under the oak tree, sunlight in your hair. It looked beautiful. But back then, you only had eyes for Alex."

I blinked and then smiled without saying anything.

"Your chemo is scheduled for the day after tomorrow, in the morning," Jeremy said. "The side effects might be rough, so be ready for it."

I smiled. "Don't worry about me. I'll be okay."

Compared to twelve years of loving someone who never loved me back, this pain was nothing.

At least this time, I was finally living for myself.

But I never expected Alex to come looking for me so quickly.

For the next four days, Alex didn't call me once.

He probably figured I'd get tired of making a scene and come crawling back.

That used to be me.

But this time, it was different.

I was never going back.

Those four days were peaceful.

I spent my days painting, reading, and taking walks.

There was no more staying up late, waiting for someone who'd never come home.

Jeremy came by every day.

He never mentioned Alex or my condition.

He kept me company, chatting about art, music, and funny memories from our time at Catilora.

Around him, I could finally let my guard down.

I didn't have to tiptoe around or try to make anyone happy.

I could finally be myself.

Meanwhile, Alex's life was turned upside down.

He thought that with me gone, he'd be freer and happier than ever.

No one would remind him not to drink cold Coke or wait up for him to come home.

But the truth was the opposite.

Three days after I left, Alex woke up and found he had no clean shirts left.

Back when I was there, I'd iron his shirts every night and even lay out his tie for him.

He dug through his whole closet, but all he could find were wrinkled shirts.

So he threw on whatever he could find and went to work.

During the meeting, his assistant leaned in and whispered, "Mr. Morrow, your shirt's wrinkled."

He glanced down and, for some reason, felt a wave of irritation wash over him.

At lunch, he went to the restaurant downstairs and ordered an apple pie.

He took one bite and immediately spat it out.

It was awful.

Back when I made apple pies, they were his absolute favorite.

He put down his fork and lost his appetite.