Chapter 1

I cut my training short and came home to find a silver suitcase sitting outside the master bedroom. A woman was stretched out on my bed. She was wearing my nightgown.

My husband, David Carter, was seated beside the bed, checking her temperature.

The first thing he asked when he saw me was, "Why are you back today?"

I glanced at the woman in the bed. She was David's ex, Sophie Lane.

David rushed to explain. "She has a fever. There was nobody at the hotel to take care of her, so I let her stay here for the night."

I stared at the nightgown Sophie had on. "So she gets my bed and my clothes?"

David frowned. "It's a special circumstance. Stop making such a big deal out of it."

I laughed. The next day, I called a real estate agent. By the third day, an open house sign was hanging outside our marital home.

When David got home from work and found a crowd of potential buyers checking the natural light in the master bedroom, his face turned angry.

I said, "You can give the master bedroom to your ex. Why can't I let everyone else look around the whole house?"

David stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, still holding the fever patches and a bag of fruit he had bought.

Sophie was sitting on the edge of the bed. She had changed back into her own clothes, but she was still wearing my fluffy pink bunny slippers.

David gave me those slippers last winter when he got back from a business trip. Now, thanks to her, one of the bunny ears was already squashed flat.

Alex Young, the real estate agent, stood awkwardly in the living room, with a young couple trailing behind him.

The woman was cradling a little boy, about two years old, in her arms. He rested his head on her shoulder, peering curiously into the master bedroom.

The young man glanced at David, then at me, and lowered his voice. "Is someone still living here?"

Alex jumped in right away. "The owner will have the place cleared out soon. We can hand it over as soon as the paperwork's done."

David's face was so dark, it looked like he could explode any second.

"Who told you to clear the place out?" he snapped.

I handed the listing agreement to Alex. "The owner arranged it."

David reached out to grab it, but I dodged him.

His hand froze in midair, his mouth set in a hard line. "Emily, did you seriously put the house on the market?"

I brushed off his words and led the young couple out to the balcony. "This side faces south, so you get plenty of sunlight during the day.

"The living room and master bedroom floors were updated last year, and the kitchen has gas, a water purifier, and a dishwasher. All the appliances are in perfect working order."

The woman stepped out onto the balcony and glanced down at the garden below.

"The floor level is great, and the neighborhood feels really peaceful. It's that your master bedroom is kind of a mess right now," she commented.

Sophie's face went pale as she ducked her head, hurriedly gathering up the medicine box and tissues from the nightstand.

David stood in front of the bed, like he couldn't stand anyone even looking at it, as if it was some kind of humiliation.

Watching him stand guard over the master bedroom like that, I suddenly remembered last night when I came home.

Sophie was lying there on my bed, wrapped in the silk comforter I bought, and the collar of her pajamas still carried the scent of my detergent.

Back then, David guarded her as fiercely.

He said she had a fever and shouldn't be disturbed.

He said she had returned from abroad and didn't have anyone around.

He said I still had two days left on my business trip, so the room would sit unused.

As he said all that, his hand gripped the edge of the blanket, like he thought I'd drag Sophie out of bed on the spot.

But that was my own bed.

I personally made the bed a month before our wedding.

I didn't stay up all night arguing with him. David probably thought my silence meant I was swallowing it all down.

Instead, I quietly went to the guest room, gathered up the house deed, my ID, the purchase contract, and every pre-marital payment receipt, and packed them all into my bag.

That night, he was in the master bedroom taking care of Sophie, while I was in the guest room, rummaging through the cabinets.

There was a door between us, and the light from the master bedroom seeped through the crack, shining all night long until the early morning.

The young couple checked out the kitchen and then the bathroom. Alex tried to steer things back to normal, talking about the school district, the subway, property management fees, and taxes.

David finally lost it and slammed the fruit bag down on the dining table. "Had enough?"

The young man frowned.

I turned to him with a smile. "Sorry about that. Someone at my home still hasn't quite gotten the hang of selling a house."

David glared at me. "Are you done with your drama?"

I picked up the keys from the dining table and handed them to Alex.

"If anyone wants to see the place, let me know a day in advance. Don't go straight to him," I said.

Alex glanced at David, uncertainty written all over his face.

David took a step forward, his voice low and dangerous. "Emily, go ahead. Try handing those keys over."

The living room went dead silent for a moment.

Alex's hand froze halfway out.

Sophie let out a gentle cough from the master bedroom doorway and said softly, "David, maybe we should drop it. I don't want to cause any trouble between you two."

David turned to her, his voice immediately gentler. "Don't worry about this. Go lie down and rest."

The young couple exchanged a look. The woman hugged the child tighter and said to Alex, "We'll think it over."

They left in a hurry.

After the front door closed, it was the three of us left in the living room.

David stood there, the veins on the back of his hand still popping.

"Are you satisfied now?" he snapped.

I took the "Model Home Open" sign from the doorway and set it on the entryway cabinet.

It had the property number, floor plan, square footage, and my contact info printed on it.

David picked it up, his fingers tightening around the cardboard until it started to crease.

"What do you think our marital home is?" he snapped.

I glanced at the master bedroom.

Sophie didn't go in. She was still lingering by the doorway, half-hidden behind the door frame, looking so delicate, like she would shatter if you so much as brushed against her.

But her feet in those slippers? Planted firm, steady as ever.

I picked up my bag. "There are two more groups scheduled to check out the place tomorrow."

David's head snapped up.

I changed my shoes at the entryway, my tone calm and even. "I'll be staying at a hotel tonight. Make sure the place is tidy, so it's presentable for the next people coming to view."

The hotel room was tiny, and the window looked straight out at the highway.

After my shower, I flopped onto the bed, and my phone lit up over and over.

David's messages kept coming in, one after another.

He sent, [Come back right now.]

[You need to explain why you put the house up for sale.]

[Sophie's already asleep. She had a fever of 102°F today. Don't go overboard.]

I read them twice, but in the end, I replied with three words, [See you then.]