Chapter 4

Alaric’s car was parked outside Freya’s apartment building.

Seeing it should not have hurt after everything I already knew.

It did.

I left my suitcase in the trunk and went upstairs.

The address had appeared on the scholarship records I reviewed when my family’s foundation helped Freya finish college. I had once mailed a congratulatory card to this apartment after persuading the committee to give her another semester.

Now my husband was inside.

As I reached her floor, a grocery courier stepped out of Freya’s apartment. Before the door could swing shut, I heard Alaric’s voice inside.

My red roses were already arranged in a glass vase on Freya’s coffee table.

Freya stood barefoot in the living room. Her breathing was steady, and her phone rested loosely in her hand.

There was no pounding on the door.

No shouting in the hallway.

No sign of the man who had supposedly frightened her enough to call someone else’s husband.

Alaric stood in front of her.

“Are you sure it was your ex?” he asked.

“I didn’t look through the peephole. I was too scared.”

“You should have called the police.”

“I didn’t want the police.”

She looked up at him.

“I wanted you.”

A door closed farther down the hallway.

Freya flinched and threw her arms around Alaric.

“Please don’t leave me alone tonight.”

His hands remained at his sides.

For one second, I thought he would step back.

He didn’t.

Instead, one hand rose and settled against her back.

“You’re safe,” he said. “I’m here.”

I remembered him saying those words to me years ago, when we were young enough to believe promises lasted simply because they were sincere when spoken.

Freya pressed her face against his chest.

Alaric held her closer.

The roses he had brought home for me stood behind them.

I raised my phone and took two photographs through the open doorway.

The images captured Freya’s arms around his neck, Alaric’s hand on her back, and my anniversary roses reflected in the window.

I sent them to Victoria.

Her reply came immediately.

“I’ve saved the photographs. Don’t confront them. Leave now.”

I walked back to the elevator.

Alaric never saw me.

At the airport, I checked my suitcase and passed through security. By the time I reached the gate, boarding had already begun.

There were no missed calls from Alaric.

He had not noticed I was gone.

I opened our message thread and typed:

“Alaric, I’m filing for divorce.”

“By the time you read this, I’ll be gone.”

The boarding announcement sounded above me.

I pressed send.

The word Delivered appeared beneath the message.

Then I turned off my phone and boarded the plane.