Chapter 1

I went to my favorite singer's concert in LA alone.

When the song-request segment started, the jumbotron lit up. But not with my face. It showed my husband, Ethan Cole, who was supposed to be "out of town on business." Standing right beside him was his first love, Vanessa Hart.

"I'd like to request 'If I Could Turn Back Time,'" Ethan said into the microphone, his voice incredibly gentle. "To go back three years. I never would have broken up with Vanessa."

The stadium erupted. Seventy thousand people cheering for their epic romance.

Everyone except me. I was sobbing.

During the next round, my tear-streaked face flashed onto the massive screen.

"I'd also like to request 'If I Could Turn Back Time,'" I said into the camera. My voice trembled, but I didn't hesitate. "To go back to that moment. I never would have said yes to Ethan Cole's proposal."

As soon as the words left my mouth, my phone buzzed.

I pulled it out. Ethan.

I hit decline.

When I looked up, my face was still plastered across the jumbotron.

I forced a flawless, camera-ready smile.

"Ethan Cole," I said, my voice steady. "I'll be at the Los Angeles Superior Court at 9:00 a.m. this Monday to officially file for divorce. Don't be a no-show."

Whispers rippled through the crowd around me.

A few people recognized me and leaned in. A young girl handed me a tissue, her eyes full of pity. "Ma'am, he's trash. He's not worth your tears."

I thanked her, wiped my face, and sang every last word of "If I Could Turn Back Time" along with the artist.

For the duration of the song, my mind kept flashing back to the morning Ethan asked for a divorce.

We were eating breakfast. He looked at me with dead, cold eyes.

"Let's get a divorce."

My fork, holding a piece of fried egg, froze in midair.

I stared at him, my whole body going rigid.

"What did you say?" I asked, sure I had misheard.

Since I said yes three years ago, we'd lived a seemingly perfect life. He was distant, sure—only ever showing real passion behind closed doors. But I thought we were fine.

I thought it was a sick joke.

But Ethan just looked at me, dead serious.

"Let's get a divorce. I'm done with this."

I didn't answer.

He let out a harsh, scraping laugh and walked out.

From that day on, Ethan stopped coming home.

Every time I called, he claimed he was out of town.

When I found out my favorite singer of over a decade was performing in LA, I texted him, asking if he would come with me.

He used a business trip as an excuse to say no.

I never expected him to show up with someone else.

I knew who she was.

In Ethan's old photo albums, there were plenty of group shots with female classmates. In every single one, his lips were pressed into a tight, aloof line.

Except for the photos with Vanessa.

In those, Ethan was smiling—a bright, genuine smile I had never seen in person.

Seeing her today, it finally clicked. It wasn't that he didn't know how to smile. He just didn't smile for me.

He only smiled for the woman he truly loved.

After the concert, I spotted a familiar figure near the venue exit.

Ethan stood there, looking caught off guard. He instinctively glanced around. Vanessa was nowhere in sight.

I didn't stop. I just kept walking.

But Ethan grabbed my arm.

"We need to talk."

I didn't look back. "Is it because of Vanessa?"

He didn't answer.

But I knew Ethan too well. His silence was a confession.

I let out a bitter scoff, yanked my arm out of his grip, and walked away without looking back.

When I got home, Ethan was already sitting in the living room.

I stopped in the entryway, staring in disbelief at the man who hadn't been home in weeks.

The words slipped out before I could stop them. "Didn't feel like walking her to her door?"

His jaw twitched, but he stayed quiet.

Realizing my question made me sound pathetic, I didn't press it. I turned to head to the bathroom.

"It's not about her."

His voice echoed behind me.

The statement came out of nowhere, but I understood perfectly. He was saying he wanted a divorce, but not because of Vanessa.

It didn't matter anymore.

"You're sleeping in the guest room."

I walked into the master bedroom and locked the door.

Only when the deadbolt clicked into place did the tears I had been fighting back all night finally fall.

I had hoped his demand for a divorce was just a momentary lapse of anger.

Now I knew it wasn't.

Chapter 1

I went to my favorite singer's concert in LA alone.

"I'd like to request 'If I Could Turn Back Time,'" Ethan said into the microphone, his voice incredibly gentle. "To go back three years. I never would have broken up with Vanessa."

The stadium erupted. Seventy thousand people cheering for their epic romance.

Everyone except me. I was sobbing.

During the next round, my tear-streaked face flashed onto the massive screen.

As soon as the words left my mouth, my phone buzzed.

I pulled it out. Ethan.

I hit decline.

When I looked up, my face was still plastered across the jumbotron.

I forced a flawless, camera-ready smile.

"Ethan Cole," I said, my voice steady. "I'll be at the Los Angeles Superior Court at 9:00 a.m. this Monday to officially file for divorce. Don't be a no-show."

Whispers rippled through the crowd around me.

A few people recognized me and leaned in. A young girl handed me a tissue, her eyes full of pity. "Ma'am, he's trash. He's not worth your tears."

I thanked her, wiped my face, and sang every last word of "If I Could Turn Back Time" along with the artist.

For the duration of the song, my mind kept flashing back to the morning Ethan asked for a divorce.

We were eating breakfast. He looked at me with dead, cold eyes.

"Let's get a divorce."

My fork, holding a piece of fried egg, froze in midair.

I stared at him, my whole body going rigid.

"What did you say?" I asked, sure I had misheard.

Since I said yes three years ago, we'd lived a seemingly perfect life. He was distant, sure—only ever showing real passion behind closed doors. But I thought we were fine.

I thought it was a sick joke.

But Ethan just looked at me, dead serious.

"Let's get a divorce. I'm done with this."

I didn't answer.

He let out a harsh, scraping laugh and walked out.

From that day on, Ethan stopped coming home.

Every time I called, he claimed he was out of town.

When I found out my favorite singer of over a decade was performing in LA, I texted him, asking if he would come with me.

He used a business trip as an excuse to say no.

I never expected him to show up with someone else.

I knew who she was.

In Ethan's old photo albums, there were plenty of group shots with female classmates. In every single one, his lips were pressed into a tight, aloof line.

Except for the photos with Vanessa.

In those, Ethan was smiling—a bright, genuine smile I had never seen in person.

Seeing her today, it finally clicked. It wasn't that he didn't know how to smile. He just didn't smile for me.

He only smiled for the woman he truly loved.

After the concert, I spotted a familiar figure near the venue exit.

Ethan stood there, looking caught off guard. He instinctively glanced around. Vanessa was nowhere in sight.

I didn't stop. I just kept walking.

But Ethan grabbed my arm.

"We need to talk."

I didn't look back. "Is it because of Vanessa?"

He didn't answer.

But I knew Ethan too well. His silence was a confession.

I let out a bitter scoff, yanked my arm out of his grip, and walked away without looking back.

When I got home, Ethan was already sitting in the living room.

I stopped in the entryway, staring in disbelief at the man who hadn't been home in weeks.

The words slipped out before I could stop them. "Didn't feel like walking her to her door?"

His jaw twitched, but he stayed quiet.

Realizing my question made me sound pathetic, I didn't press it. I turned to head to the bathroom.

"It's not about her."

His voice echoed behind me.

The statement came out of nowhere, but I understood perfectly. He was saying he wanted a divorce, but not because of Vanessa.

It didn't matter anymore.

"You're sleeping in the guest room."

I walked into the master bedroom and locked the door.

Only when the deadbolt clicked into place did the tears I had been fighting back all night finally fall.

I had hoped his demand for a divorce was just a momentary lapse of anger.

Now I knew it wasn't.