Chapter 3 · Love Finds Its Way Back

When I woke up early the next morning, he was already gone.

On the kitchen counter, there was a cup of warm milk with a sticky note tucked underneath.

[I have something to deal with. I'll be back tonight.]

I knew exactly what it was.

I left the milk untouched and went straight to work.

I worked as a graphic designer at a design firm, making over 3,500 dollars a month, barely enough to survive in this city.

After we got together, he started transferring a five-figure sum into my bank account every month.

I never spent a single dollar of it. I always felt like I'd need it someday, like today.

Around three in the afternoon, my coworker Anna Stewart came over to my desk with her phone. "Hey, Chloe, check this out."

She opened up IG, showing me a post. [I ran into a super good-looking couple at Eastside Medical Center.]

There were three photos attached.

The first one showed a black Bentley parked right at the hospital entrance.

The second was James coming around the car, reaching out to steady the woman standing by the door.

The third was him with his hand on her lower back, the two of them walking toward the parking lot.

The woman was wearing a light blue coat, her long hair down. She turned slightly toward him, chatting with him with a smile.

It was Evelyn.

There were hundreds of comments.

[OMG, this guy is insanely handsome.]

[Wait, I know him. That's the Rowland Holdings heir. He always said he was single.]

[The girl looks so elegant. They totally match.]

[Rich couple vibes for days.]

I pushed the phone back to her. "I don't know them."

"For real? Isn't that guy you posted on your IG?" Anna asked back.

"I don't know them," I replied firmly.

I got up, went to the restroom, locked myself in a stall, leaned against the wall, and rubbed my forehead.

Tears stung my eyes, but I forced myself not to shed a single tear. It was not worth it.

My phone buzzed. James: [What do you want for dinner? I'll pick it up.]

I replied: [Whatever.]

He replied: [Okay.]

James looked like nothing had ever happened. Maybe in his world, none of it meant anything.

He took another woman to the hospital, putting his arm around her in public, getting snapped and tagged as a couple online. For him, it was just normal socializing.

And somehow, I was the one being unreasonable for asking questions.

That night, he brought home a ton of takeout.

I sat at the dining table, watching him open them one by one.

"Did you go to the hospital today?" I asked.

He paused and looked up at me in surprise. "How do you know?"

"Someone took photos. They're all over social media," I answered.

He frowned, checked his phone, scrolled for a moment, then set it aside. "I'll have it taken down."

He didn't bother explaining why he went. He didn't say what that arm around her waist meant. All he cared about was deleting it.

"You had your arm around her waist," I said.

"She twisted her ankle when she was leaving," James replied.

"So, you helped her."

"What, was I supposed to watch her fall?"

He handed me the fork. "Eat. Don't look at that stuff."

I took the fork, but I couldn't eat a single bite.

*****

Over the next week, Evelyn's name kept coming up in his life.

One Monday night, he took a call on the balcony for twenty minutes. When he came back, I asked who it was, and he said it was from an old friend.

On Wednesday, I was hanging up his suit when a jewelry receipt slipped out of the pocket. It was a six-figure necklace. It wasn't for me.

My birthday was three months ago, and all he gave me was a bag.

This Friday, he said he was working late and didn't get home until eleven.

I caught a faint whiff of women's perfume on his clothes. It was not the kind I wear.

I didn't say a word. My hands were shaking as I tossed his shirt into the laundry basket.

Saturday afternoon, Lily asked me to hang out with her.

I didn't want to go, but she sent me three voice messages, pestering me until I finally caved.

When I got there, I realized it wasn't just her.

There were two other girls from Alex's circle. One of them was Emily Carter, who was notorious for having a big mouth.

I'd barely sat down before she started talking. "Chloe, did you know? Yesterday, James helped Evelyn move out of her old place."

Lily kicked her under the table.

Emily shrugged it off. "I'm not trying to stir things up, but Alex told me himself. James set Evelyn up in his Riverside Suites apartment."

She dropped her voice, then raised it again for effect. "That place is 1,940 square feet, fully furnished. Top-notch."

The one I shared with him was 1,300 square feet.

Emily continued, "I heard Evelyn's health isn't great. She had surgery overseas, and now she's back for follow-ups. You know James. He's never been over her."

Lily kicked her again, harder this time. Emily finally shut up.

Lily turned to me. "Don't listen to her."

"It's fine." I took a sip of my coffee, letting the bitterness settle in.

1,940-square-foot apartment, fully furnished, all under his name. And I didn't even know.

I set my cup down, pulled a spare key from my bag, and placed it on the table.

It was the backup key to James's apartment.

Lily paused, caught off guard. "What are you doing?"

"Give it back to him for me."

"Are you sure?"

"It's been two years. I'm done."

I grabbed my bag and stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "It was never clear, but now it is."

Emily called out from behind me, "Chloe, are you..."

Lily grabbed her arm. I didn't look back.

When I stepped outside the café and onto the street, I realized it was raining.

I forgot my umbrella.

I waited under the awning, scrolling through my phone to order a ride.

A new text popped up at the top of my screen. It was from James.

[Come with me to Southhill Manor tonight. Someone's treating us. Wear that burgundy dress.]

He was deciding what I should wear, like he always did.

He only sent messages like this when he needed me to show up, as if I were an accessory he could grab from his closet.

I stared at James's message for a while.

I started to type something, but erased it.

Tried again, deleted it once more.

In the end, I sent back: [Okay.]

I was such a coward. I scolded myself.

The car arrived, and I got in.

The windshield wipers swept across the glass, smearing the city into a watercolor blur.

My phone buzzed again. It wasn't James.

It was an unknown number. [Hey, it's Evelyn Lane. Mind if we meet up?]

Chapter 3

When I woke up early the next morning, he was already gone.

On the kitchen counter, there was a cup of warm milk with a sticky note tucked underneath.

[I have something to deal with. I'll be back tonight.]

I knew exactly what it was.

I left the milk untouched and went straight to work.

I worked as a graphic designer at a design firm, making over 3,500 dollars a month, barely enough to survive in this city.

After we got together, he started transferring a five-figure sum into my bank account every month.

I never spent a single dollar of it. I always felt like I'd need it someday, like today.

Around three in the afternoon, my coworker Anna Stewart came over to my desk with her phone. "Hey, Chloe, check this out."

She opened up IG, showing me a post. [I ran into a super good-looking couple at Eastside Medical Center.]

There were three photos attached.

The first one showed a black Bentley parked right at the hospital entrance.

The second was James coming around the car, reaching out to steady the woman standing by the door.

The third was him with his hand on her lower back, the two of them walking toward the parking lot.

The woman was wearing a light blue coat, her long hair down. She turned slightly toward him, chatting with him with a smile.

It was Evelyn.

There were hundreds of comments.

[OMG, this guy is insanely handsome.]

[Wait, I know him. That's the Rowland Holdings heir. He always said he was single.]

[The girl looks so elegant. They totally match.]

[Rich couple vibes for days.]

I pushed the phone back to her. "I don't know them."

"For real? Isn't that guy you posted on your IG?" Anna asked back.

"I don't know them," I replied firmly.

I got up, went to the restroom, locked myself in a stall, leaned against the wall, and rubbed my forehead.

Tears stung my eyes, but I forced myself not to shed a single tear. It was not worth it.

My phone buzzed. James: [What do you want for dinner? I'll pick it up.]

I replied: [Whatever.]

He replied: [Okay.]

James looked like nothing had ever happened. Maybe in his world, none of it meant anything.

He took another woman to the hospital, putting his arm around her in public, getting snapped and tagged as a couple online. For him, it was just normal socializing.

And somehow, I was the one being unreasonable for asking questions.

That night, he brought home a ton of takeout.

I sat at the dining table, watching him open them one by one.

"Did you go to the hospital today?" I asked.

He paused and looked up at me in surprise. "How do you know?"

"Someone took photos. They're all over social media," I answered.

He frowned, checked his phone, scrolled for a moment, then set it aside. "I'll have it taken down."

He didn't bother explaining why he went. He didn't say what that arm around her waist meant. All he cared about was deleting it.

"You had your arm around her waist," I said.

"She twisted her ankle when she was leaving," James replied.

"So, you helped her."

"What, was I supposed to watch her fall?"

He handed me the fork. "Eat. Don't look at that stuff."

I took the fork, but I couldn't eat a single bite.

*****

Over the next week, Evelyn's name kept coming up in his life.

One Monday night, he took a call on the balcony for twenty minutes. When he came back, I asked who it was, and he said it was from an old friend.

On Wednesday, I was hanging up his suit when a jewelry receipt slipped out of the pocket. It was a six-figure necklace. It wasn't for me.

My birthday was three months ago, and all he gave me was a bag.

This Friday, he said he was working late and didn't get home until eleven.

I caught a faint whiff of women's perfume on his clothes. It was not the kind I wear.

I didn't say a word. My hands were shaking as I tossed his shirt into the laundry basket.

Saturday afternoon, Lily asked me to hang out with her.

I didn't want to go, but she sent me three voice messages, pestering me until I finally caved.

When I got there, I realized it wasn't just her.

There were two other girls from Alex's circle. One of them was Emily Carter, who was notorious for having a big mouth.

I'd barely sat down before she started talking. "Chloe, did you know? Yesterday, James helped Evelyn move out of her old place."

Lily kicked her under the table.

Emily shrugged it off. "I'm not trying to stir things up, but Alex told me himself. James set Evelyn up in his Riverside Suites apartment."

She dropped her voice, then raised it again for effect. "That place is 1,940 square feet, fully furnished. Top-notch."

The one I shared with him was 1,300 square feet.

Emily continued, "I heard Evelyn's health isn't great. She had surgery overseas, and now she's back for follow-ups. You know James. He's never been over her."

Lily kicked her again, harder this time. Emily finally shut up.

Lily turned to me. "Don't listen to her."

"It's fine." I took a sip of my coffee, letting the bitterness settle in.

1,940-square-foot apartment, fully furnished, all under his name. And I didn't even know.

I set my cup down, pulled a spare key from my bag, and placed it on the table.

It was the backup key to James's apartment.

Lily paused, caught off guard. "What are you doing?"

"Give it back to him for me."

"Are you sure?"

"It's been two years. I'm done."

I grabbed my bag and stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "It was never clear, but now it is."

Emily called out from behind me, "Chloe, are you..."

Lily grabbed her arm. I didn't look back.

When I stepped outside the café and onto the street, I realized it was raining.

I forgot my umbrella.

I waited under the awning, scrolling through my phone to order a ride.

A new text popped up at the top of my screen. It was from James.

[Come with me to Southhill Manor tonight. Someone's treating us. Wear that burgundy dress.]

He was deciding what I should wear, like he always did.

He only sent messages like this when he needed me to show up, as if I were an accessory he could grab from his closet.

I stared at James's message for a while.

I started to type something, but erased it.

Tried again, deleted it once more.

In the end, I sent back: [Okay.]

I was such a coward. I scolded myself.

The car arrived, and I got in.

The windshield wipers swept across the glass, smearing the city into a watercolor blur.

My phone buzzed again. It wasn't James.

It was an unknown number. [Hey, it's Evelyn Lane. Mind if we meet up?]