Chapter 1

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I sat in a restaurant and waited four hours for my husband, Daniel Shaw.

At ten past six, he texted me.

Daniel: [Something came up at work. Go ahead and order. I'll be there soon.]

I texted back an okay.

At seven, the server came by and asked if I wanted to start with appetizers. I shook my head. "We'll wait a little longer."

At eight thirty, the cake came out, and the frosting was already melting at the edges.

I called Daniel, and nobody picked up.

At nine forty, the server came over for the third time. She glanced at the untouched place setting across from me and asked carefully, "Ma'am, we close at ten thirty. Is your other guest still coming?"

I paused. "He is."

The words were barely out when my phone lit up. Lydia Lynn, the wife of my husband's best friend, had posted on Instagram.

In the picture, Lydia's daughter, Stella Winters, wore a birthday crown and held a chocolate cake, laughing hard enough to crinkle her eyes.

Daniel stood behind her with his sleeves rolled to the elbows, leaning in to set the candles for her.

There were four place settings at the table.

The four of them were Lydia, Stella, Daniel, and Elaine Winters, who was Charles Winters' sister.

The caption was one line.

[Thank you to the one who has never missed a single year.]

I looked at that photo for a long time before it came back to me. That day wasn't only our seventh anniversary. It was also Stella's eighth birthday.

Two years earlier it had gone the same way. That year Daniel said a client had turned up out of nowhere and he couldn't make it.

I found out later that Stella had run a fever that night and kept crying for "Uncle Daniel."

Charles was already dead.

The "Uncle Daniel" she wanted was my husband.

The server came back. "Ma'am?"

I turned my screen off. "I'll take the check."

She hesitated and glanced at the seat across from me. "And this place setting?"

"You can clear it."

I picked up my bag and left.

It was eleven when I got home. My son, Ethan Shaw, was already asleep, and the housekeeper had left one lamp on in the living room.

I took the anniversary present I had bought for Daniel out of my bag. It was a fountain pen.

I had given him one from the same line the year he graduated from college, and when his company was at its worst, he signed his first contract with that pen.

He had mentioned offhand a while back that the old one had broken, and it took me a long time to track down the same model from before it was discontinued.

Sitting there with it, I couldn't see the point anymore, so I threw it in the trash, box and all.

At 1:17 in the morning, I heard the front door open.

Daniel came in smelling like alcohol, carrying a cake box.

When he saw me on the couch, he stopped short. "You're still up?"

I didn't answer.

He kicked off his shoes and set the cake on the coffee table. "It's left over from Stella's birthday. Lydia wanted me to bring some home for Ethan. He likes chocolate, doesn't he?"

I looked at the box. There was a smear of pink frosting on the lid.

I gave a small, tight smile, and Daniel frowned. "What?"

"Nothing." I looked up at him. "Did you have a good time today?"

His hands stopped halfway out of his coat. "It was fine."

"And Stella?"

"She had fun."

After that, he finally seemed to catch on that something was off, and he looked down at me for a few seconds. "What's wrong with you?"

I looked at him and thought about the seven years.

Daniel and I had gone from college straight into marriage.

When we were broke, the two of us split a five-dollar plate of pasta.

In the first two years of his company, he slept four hours a night, and when he came home at two in the morning, he still went out of his way to bring me the glazed donuts I loved.

Back then I really believed that what we had would never change.

It turned out that the deepest feelings shifted a little at a time, and I never knew exactly when ours started to.

I reached over, slid the wedding ring off my finger, and set it on the coffee table. It made a small sound.

Daniel's face changed instantly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

I said, "Let's get divorced."

The living room went quiet. He looked like he hadn't heard me right. "What?"

"I said I want a divorce."

Daniel stared at me for a while, and his first reaction was to laugh. It was a short laugh, like he couldn't believe it.

"Joanna, have you been drinking?"

"No."

"Then what's gotten into you?"

I wasn't angry. His reaction was exactly what I expected, because for three years, every time I brought up Lydia, he reacted like this.

At first he said I was overthinking it. Then he decided I was too sensitive. After that, one frown from me and he was impatient before I said a word. "Charles is dead. A widow raising a kid alone has it hard enough."

One line, and everything I felt was blocked off. They were the ones everyone pitied, so my unhappiness came out looking like spite.

Daniel saw that I wasn't saying anything and pressed his fingers between his brows. "What is going on with you today?"

"You forgot?"

He frowned.

I didn't remind him. I waited maybe fifteen seconds.

Then his eyes landed on the calendar on the wall. I had circled that day's date in red.