Chapter 2

The sound of someone in the kitchen woke me. When I walked out of my bedroom, the warm, sweet smell of oatmeal filled the air.

Daniel stood at the stove in an apron, gently stirring a pot of oatmeal.

When he heard me, he turned around with a hopeful look in his eyes. "Sophie, you're awake. I made the oatmeal with brown sugar and cinnamon, the way you used to love it."

I stopped in my tracks. This was a scene I had dreamed of so many times.

Early in our relationship, when I was curled up in bed with cramps, he would put on my silly cartoon apron and make me cinnamon toast in the kitchen.

He was so clumsy back then. He burned his fingers more than once. But he still carefully blew on every spoonful of warm cereal to cool it down before feeding it to me.

He held me close and said, "Sophie, I'll make you breakfast every day. When we get married, the kitchen will be mine."

But then he got busier. He came home less and less.

Forget making breakfast. We barely sat down to eat together a handful of times.

I looked at the bowl in his hand. I felt no warmth, only a dull, bitter ache. "No, thank you. I don't like sweet breakfast anymore."

Daniel froze. The hope in his face flickered and died. "How can that be? You loved this. You always said the sweetness warmed your stomach."

"That was a long time ago," I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table. "People change. Tastes change. Feelings change, too."

He set the bowl in front of me, his voice turning urgent. "Sophie, I know I messed up. I should not have said I don't believe in marriage. I know that hurt you.

"We have been together for ten years. We cannot let it end like this.

"Leave him. Get a divorce. I will marry you the moment you do. Please."

I looked up at him and could not help but laugh. "Daniel, have you smelled yourself lately?"

He paused, then sniffed his shirt. "I was so tired from catching my flight yesterday. I did not have a chance to change. Why?"

"That scent on you, it is Alice's perfume, isn't it?" I said calmly, as if it did not matter.

Daniel's face shifted. His gaze darted away. "What are you talking about? Alice and I are only colleagues."

"Only colleagues? Then why did you come back from your business trip smelling like her?

"And why did you miss our tenth anniversary to celebrate her birthday?"

I fired off the questions one after another, watching his expression change from flustered to angry and defensive.

"Sophie! Are you spying on me?" he demanded.

"Do I need to?" I picked up the bowl from the table and walked to the trash can.

I tipped it over and poured everything out. The sweet, cloying smell of cinnamon and brown sugar spread through the room like the decaying love between us.

"Daniel, do not think I have not noticed what you have been doing.

"I was giving you a chance. I was giving myself one, too.

"But when you said you did not believe in marriage, that was when it finally hit me."

I set the empty bowl down and turned to face him. "I cannot afford to wait anymore. I do not want to.

"You know exactly how much I have given up for you over these ten years.

"I am done giving. This time, I want to live for myself."

Daniel looked at me as if he did not recognize me.

I had always been the gentle one who gave in. When I was upset, I cried alone. I never stood up to him like this.

He stepped forward and reached out to hug me.

I moved back immediately, avoiding his touch. "Do not touch me. You are filthy."

That cut him to the bone.

His face went pale. His hand hung in the air. His eyes filled with pain. "Sophie, how could you say that?"

"You brought this on yourself," I said, turning and walking to the front door. "Now, please leave my house. Do not ever come back.

"I am married now. I have a husband. I do not want him to get the wrong idea."

Daniel stood there, staring at me. The pain in his eyes turned to obsession and resentment.

His voice dropped low and intense. "I am not leaving, Sophie. I will not just walk away. I will not give up on you.

"What is so great about that guy? You have only known him for a few days."

I was done arguing. I pulled out my phone and made it clear I was about to call the police.

He gritted his teeth, but he grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

As he passed me, he stopped. His voice was low and heavy. "Sophie, you will regret this. No one will ever truly care about you except me."

I did not answer. After he left, I closed the door and threw the deadbolt. At last, peace.

I leaned against the door and let out a long, deep breath.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from Eric Carter. [Are you free tonight? Want to get dinner and talk about what comes next?]

My finger hovered over the screen for a moment. Then I typed back: [Okay.]