Chapter 3
I knew there was no place for me in his heart, but I just couldn't walk away.
By the third year we were together, Wyatt had graduated.
He partnered up with some guys and launched a company, crunching numbers for finance clients.
Those were the toughest days; he was up night after night hustling for deals, and that's when he wrecked his stomach.
I cared about him so much that I quit my stable job back home and moved to his city, just to be there for him and take care of him.
We squeezed into a tiny shared apartment, and the smell from the communal bathroom was so awful that it made me nauseous and kept me awake most nights.
But Wyatt was generous with me.
When he got his first big bonus, he spent it all on a pair of gold earrings for me.
"When I have more money, I'll get you diamond ones," he said, brushing my earlobe.
At that moment, I really believed we had a future together.
Nova would drop by sometimes. Seeing how rough things were for me, she'd always shake her head, frustrated that I wouldn't get my act together.
"Bella, Wyatt's just a small-time boss right now. Look at what you've turned yourself into for him," she'd say.
I just smiled and kept quiet.
I knew Wyatt was on the verge of success.
His eyes grew sharper, his methods more sophisticated, he was nothing like the struggling kid who used to sort old books in the library.
But as Wyatt got more and more successful, he was hardly ever home anymore.
One night, I got a call.
There was a lot of noise in the background, it sounded like a bar.
"Hey, is this Bella? I'm Wyatt's business partner. He's drunk, can you come pick him up?"
I hung up and rushed over.
It was the most exclusive private club in the city. I looked like a working-class girl, totally out of place among the rich crowd, and the staff stopped me at the door.
It wasn't until Wyatt's business partner came out and led me inside.
When I opened the door to the VIP suite, Wyatt was right in the center of it all, commanding the room.
Sitting beside him was a woman.
Her long hair fell over her shoulders, graceful and poised. It was Stella.
Stella was back. I could hardly believe it.
The whole room was making a scene, hyping up how Wyatt and Stella, his old flame, were finally reunited, everyone saying sparks were flying again.
Wyatt stayed silent, absently swirling the wine in his glass, like he couldn't care less.
He spotted me, but his eyes didn't show a single flicker of guilt or embarrassment, just calm, like nothing was out of the ordinary.
"You made it?" he said, his voice flat.
Someone nearby asked, "Mr. Rogers, who's this?"
I held my breath, watching Wyatt's lips, waiting for him to say it.
If he just said I was his girlfriend, even if Stella was right there with him, I could forgive him.
But instead, he said, "She's just a distant relative from my family, here to help out."
The room erupted in laughter.
"Oh. So she's the little housemaid, huh?" Someone jeered.
Stella smiled, stood up with perfect poise, and offered her hand. "Hi, I'm Stella, Wyatt's friend."
I left her hanging.
I turned and bolted out of the suite.
That night, the rain was pouring even harder than the day we first met.
I didn't have an umbrella, so I just ran through the streets like I was losing my mind.
Wyatt never bothered to follow me.
It wasn't until an hour later that he finally texted: [Enough already. Just come home.]
Staring at those five words on my screen, I felt like a pathetic joke.
We didn't break up.
Or maybe I just didn't have the courage to bring it up.
Wyatt finally came home one time and handed me a bank card.
"There's 30,000 dollars on it. Buy whatever you want," he said.
I looked at the card and couldn't help but feel how bitterly ironic it all was.
"Wyatt, do you think money is what I need?" I asked.
He loosened his tie, sounding tired. "Bella, I'm worn out. Stella just got back, and the company needs her connections for a bunch of projects. It's strictly business between us."
"Business partners? Is that why you were holding her hand? Is that why you denied I was your girlfriend?" I shot back.
He finally stopped and gave me a cold, hard stare.
"If all you want is the label, I can give you that. But if you're after that kind of needy, clingy stuff, I can't give you that," he said.
He became even more ruthless, more distant than ever.
Over the next year, Wyatt's career took off.
He bought a mansion and a luxury car, and I moved out of that shabby shared apartment into a sleek, upscale condo.
But our relationship was even more distant than when we were crammed into that tiny apartment.
He treated me well, designer bags, jewelry, beautiful clothes, anything I asked for, he never said no.
But he never brought me into his world, never took me to his parties or introduced me to his friends.
He kept me in a gilded cage, like a canary.
Six years in, it was our anniversary.
I carefully prepared a nice dinner and waited for him all night.
He finally came home at two in the morning, smelling of alcohol and a hint of perfume.
It was the exact brand Stella loved most.
"Why are you still up?" he asked, frowning.
"Wyatt, today's our anniversary," I said.