Chapter 3

That night, for the first time, William and I slept in separate rooms.

I sat alone on the big, empty bed.

Suddenly, I remembered what William had told me on our wedding day.

He'd said that even if we ever fought, we would never sleep in separate rooms. Once a conflict was left to sit overnight, it meant the marriage had cracked beyond repair. He wouldn't allow that.

I turned off the lights in silence.

Sometime after midnight, a hand slid toward me from the other side of the bed.

William's warm breath brushed the side of my neck, his tone almost coaxing.

He said, "Babe, I was wrong. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you. Can you forgive me?"

I let him hold me, just staring out the window in silence.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

William leaned in even closer, murmuring softly, "A fight can't be left overnight. I didn't forget."

A tear splashed onto the pillowcase.

I had already made up my mind. So why did one sentence from him leave me wavering now?

William, lying next to me, started to explain.

"Sophia, that silly girl Charlotte was driving me crazy at work today. I was so annoyed, I totally forgot to pick up something for you," he said.

My heart ached a little, and I tried to sound casual as I asked him.

"What did Charlotte do this time?" I asked.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but William's voice sounded way more animated.

He said, "She screwed up a really important document, so I called her out on it. Instead of owning up, she got all worked up about it.

"She started crying and throwing a fit, and in the end, I had to calm her down. Man, it's really draining."

William caught himself halfway, realizing I might not like hearing this.

He managed to squeeze out a few stiff, awkward words.

"Babe, you know there's nothing going on between me and Charlotte," William said, sounding a bit helpless.

I rolled over, lying flat on my back.

"Yeah, I know. If there really was, you wouldn't have married me, right?" I replied.

William's hand, which had been resting on my waist, slowly pulled back.

He murmured under his breath, his voice tinged with regret, "Yeah, in the end, I married you."

*****

Ever since that day, things between William and me started to feel really awkward.

He kept coming up with all sorts of excuses.

He stopped coming home to eat with me.

Honestly, I never went into the kitchen for him again.

That day, while I was packing up my things, I found dozens of aprons in the closet, each still sealed in its wrapper.

They sat on top of my clothes. And in their own quiet way, they'd buried three whole years of my marriage right along with them.

I stopped and thought about it. How had I turned into a woman whose entire life revolved around a kitchen?

Right after the wedding, William had told me, "Sophia, I've got a picky palate, and your cooking is the only thing that ever hits the spot. Quit your job and stay home."

His mother, Alicia, put it more plainly. "The Prestons have a reputation to protect, and we can't have you embarrassing us. Your one job is to take good care of my son."

I understood that marrying into money was never going to be easy, so I bent over backward to keep both of them happy. I gave up the illustration career I'd once loved, and I looked after every last detail of William's life.

And in the end, all of it earned me a single sentence. "Sophia? Cooking is about the only thing she's good at."

So I decided I was done.

I threw every last apron into the trash, and then I went to the mall and bought myself a whole new wardrobe.

I put on my favorite dress, did my makeup, and looked absolutely fabulous.

I took a ton of cute selfies.

On my pretty popular account, I let everyone know I was back.

I was finally back to living for myself, doing what I loved.

Whether William came home tonight or not, I just didn't care anymore.

And I didn't give a damn who he was with.

And honestly, I stopped caring when he'd finally get sick of me for good.

I really couldn't care less about any of it now.