Chapter 5

The morning after our anniversary, rain streaked the windows of our apartment. When I woke, the other side of the bed was still empty.

Joy hadn't come home.

Once, I would have reached for my phone before I was fully awake. I would have called him, asked where he was, then found an excuse for him before he even had the chance to offer one.

There must have been an emergency.

Mia must have really needed him.

He probably hadn't realized how late it was.

That morning, I did none of those things.

I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the empty space beside me.

Some answers didn't need an explanation.

When Joy walked out of that restaurant the night before, I finally understood what I had been waiting for all these years. It wasn't an apology. It wasn't another promise that things would be different.

I had been waiting for the moment when my husband would choose me without having to be asked.

My phone lit up on the nightstand.

For one foolish second, I thought it might be Joy.

It was Hudson.

I stared at his name for a long moment. We hadn't been part of each other's lives in years, but after leaving the restaurant last night, he had been the first person I thought of from the life I used to have.

Before marriage became the center of everything.

Before I became so good at being Joy's wife that I stopped noticing how much of Vivian Bennett I had left behind.

My fingers hovered over the screen before I finally typed.

"I wish you were here. "

His reply came quickly.

"I'll be in New York tomorrow. "

The next afternoon, I met Hudson at the airport.

Years had passed, but there was something reassuringly familiar about him. He didn't ask why I had reached out after so long. He didn't press me for details about my marriage or offer an opinion about Joy.

He simply looked at me and smiled.

"Vivian. It's been a long time. "

Something about hearing my name caught me off guard.

Not Mrs. Bennett.

Not Joy's wife.

Just Vivian.

For the first time in years, I remembered the woman who could spend hours arguing over a design concept. The woman who had opinions about skylines and public spaces, who could lose track of time over a set of blueprints.

She had existed before Joy.

Maybe she still did.

When I returned to the apartment that evening, Joy was already home.

He sat in the living room, looking exhausted. The moment I stepped inside, he stood.

"Vivian, we need to talk. "

There had been a time when those words would have made my heart race. I would have searched his face for remorse, desperate for some sign that he finally understood.

Now I simply set down my bag.

"What do you want to talk about? "

He hesitated.

"I can explain what happened last night. "

Once, that was exactly what I wanted to hear.

Now, an explanation felt strangely beside the point.

Over the next few days, Joy tried.

He came home earlier. He made time for dinner. He checked in more often. Then he booked another anniversary dinner at the same restaurant, as if returning to the same table could somehow undo the night he had walked away from it.

Candlelight flickered between us.

Joy reached across the table and took my hand.

"Vivian, can we go back to how things were? "

I looked down at his hand around mine.

A few weeks ago, this would have been enough to give me hope.

Now all I could think about was how many times I had accepted a gesture after being hurt and convinced myself it meant something had changed.

"I know I haven't been the husband you needed. "

His grip tightened slightly.

"But I can change. "

I lifted my eyes to his.

"Joy, do you know what I actually wanted from you? "

He went still.

"I never wanted you to make things up to me after I was already hurt. "

I gently pulled my hand from his.

"I wanted you to see me before it got that far. "

For once, Joy had nothing to say.

And sitting across from him, I realized something that should have frightened me.

His silence didn't hurt the way it used to.

A few days later, I placed a document envelope on the table in front of him.

Joy glanced down at it, then back at me.

The color slowly drained from his face.

"What is this? "