Chapter 2

[Bryan's birthday. You going?] Mandy texted me.

I stared at the screen, a self-deprecating chuckle escaping me. We'd already signed the divorce papers, and she still thought we could play pretend together.

I replied: [One last time.]

The party was held at an ultra-exclusive club downtown. When I walked in, Mandy was already there. She wore a black off-the-shoulder dress, and around her slender neck was the pearl necklace I'd given her last year.

She sat at the center of the crowd, holding a glass of red wine and chatting softly with someone. Her every move was exuding elegance.

When Mandy saw me, she stood up naturally, walked over, and slipped her arm through mine.

Her palm was cold, and through the fabric of my shirt, I could feel her fingers gripping me just a little too tightly.

"You're here," she said. Her tone was so intimate that it was like the divorce never happened.

"Yeah," I answered.

At the table, our friends started teasing us.

"Owen, you're really lucky. Mandy's stock has risen again, and she still loves parading you around," one of them joked.

"That's right. Mandy Warren is famously devoted to her family," another chimed in.

Mandy smiled and responded, occasionally glancing at me with a look that begged me to keep up the act. I ate mechanically, knocking back glass after glass of wine.

This meal left me feeling queasy.

The conversation was buzzing, everyone talking about the stock market and the latest luxury villas. Mandy handled it all like she was born for this. But as I watched her, she felt like a stranger.

Five years ago, she was the kind of girl who'd tear up just because I made her a bowl of noodles. When did she turn into a boss lady who never let anything slip?

"Mandy, I heard your old college senior is back in town?" someone tossed out casually.

The vibe at the table froze for a second.

Mandy's hand paused on her wine glass, then she took a sip like nothing happened. "Oh? I haven't really kept up."

Her answer was sharp, but I felt it. The hand she had wrapped around my arm suddenly loosened. She looked down at the table, and that flash of loneliness in her eyes was like a blunt knife, hitting me right where it hurts.

That college senior was the one I'd mentioned before the divorce. He was her unattainable crush, the one true weakness behind her flawless facade.

"I'm going to the restroom," I said, pushing my chair back and standing up.

Mandy started to get up too, but I shot her a look so cold she sat right back down.

I stepped outside the restroom and lit a cigarette. The nicotine burned in my lungs, and I ended up hacking up a storm.

Mandy had followed me at some point. She stood at the end of the hallway, her skin looking almost sickly pale under the dim lights.

"Owen, don't let what they said get to you," she said quietly.

"Which part?" I blew out a smoke ring. "The bit about you being so devoted, or the bit about him coming back?"

Mandy bit her lower lip. That was what she did when she was nervous.

Mandy said quietly, "I know you're not feeling great. But I had to show up tonight. You know how much Bryan matters to the company."

"Mandy, do you think that's why I'm mad?" I stubbed out my cigarette and stepped closer. "I'm angry because even now, you still put your business, your image, and that guy you can't let go of ahead of me.

"Even when you were holding onto me, your mind was on him, wasn't it?"

"I wasn't!" Mandy looked up, her voice trembling with a hint of tears, but she forced it back down.

"You know it deep down," I said.

I walked right past her and made for the door.

"Owen, where are you going? The party's not over!" she called out behind me.

"It's over," I said, not even glancing back. "Mandy, our show's wrapped."

I stepped outside, letting the night breeze wash away the booze. Behind me, I heard glass shatter, but I didn't bother to look. I figured she must've knocked over a glass by accident. Someone as classy as her would never actually throw things.

That was the day I officially started moving out.

The sunlight poured in, lighting up the whole place. Even the dust drifting through the air was clear as day.

Mandy had taken the day off on purpose, staying home. She sat on the leather couch in the living room, quietly watching me move back and forth as I packed the books from the shelves into cardboard boxes, one by one.

"Are you taking all of these?" she asked, pointing at the stack of old magazines.

"Yeah," I replied.

"You can leave them here if you want. I don't read them anyway, so it's fine," she said softly, her voice almost pleading.

I stayed silent. The sound of tape ripping across the boxes was harsh in the empty room.

Mandy stood up and walked over to the bookshelf, reaching for a book to help me. I sidestepped her hand without making it obvious and grabbed the book myself.

Her hand hung awkwardly in the air for a moment, then she slowly withdrew it and slipped it into the pocket of her robe.