Chapter 2

I stared at Paul’s message—Tomorrow we can bring the rest of your things over—until the screen went dark.

The sound of running water stopped in the bathroom.

Minutes later, Eva stepped out wearing a dark gray silk robe, her hair still dripping wet.

It was a birthday gift Paul had given me last year.

I had always complained that the sleeves were too long, making it impractical to wear while preparing breakfast, so it usually hung at the very back of the closet.

Yet Eva had tied the sash with familiar ease, as if she had known exactly where to find it.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, touching her sleeve, her tone layered with just the right amount of timid bashfulness. “Paul said there were no clean clothes in the guest room.”

Paul walked out of the master bedroom, not even bothering to glance at the robe.

“I’ll have someone buy new ones tomorrow.”

“No need,” I said. “She stays in the guest room tonight and leaves tomorrow morning.”

Eva’s hand paused at her waist. Paul looked up, some of the exhaustion dropping from his face.

“Mara, she has nowhere else to go right now.”

“That’s between her and her landlord.”

“She just got thrown out onto the street. Do you really have to make a point of being petty at a time like this?”

He kept his voice low, as if trying not to cause a scene.

For twelve years, whenever he wanted me to back down, he used this exact tone.

First, he’d frame my refusal as coldness, then wrap his own demands in the guise of responsibility. By the end, it always felt as though if I held my boundaries, I was the heartless one destroying everything.

I didn’t look at him again. I turned and walked back into the bedroom.

When I came downstairs the next morning, Eva was already sitting in my usual spot, sipping coffee.

She was using the blue-rimmed porcelain mug left to me by my mother—the one with a faint crack along the rim.

I never let guests use it.

“Paul said this mug holds heat the best.” She looked up at me. “I didn’t sleep well last night, and my stomach’s acting up.”

Paul slid the sugar bowl toward her. “You need to eat something.”

Standing at the opposite end of the dining table, I suddenly understood why neither of them cared about hiding it anymore.

They had no intention of keeping it a secret.

Eva didn’t just want Paul. She wanted to sit in my seat, wear my clothes, use my mug, and have me watch firsthand as she made it all look completely natural.

“Take your luggage and leave today,” I said.

Paul dropped his fork onto the edge of his plate. “Don’t force me to choose between you two.”

“You’ve already chosen.”

His face darkened. “I’m just helping someone who needs help. Can’t you stop turning everything into the worst-case scenario?”

Eva lowered her head, playing the part of the bystander who hated seeing us fight. “Mara, if it really bothers you, I can stay at a hotel.”

Her voice was soft, but there was no intention of leaving in her eyes.

Paul immediately cut in. “She can’t stay in a hotel. Things are tight for her right now, and you know how unsafe it is out there.”

Watching them perform off each other, I suddenly recalled last night’s message.

Paul hadn’t said, "Let her stay one more night."

He had said: bring the rest of your things over.

I went back upstairs and pushed open the guest room door.

Eva’s suitcase was unzipped, revealing neatly folded clothes, skincare products, and a stack of documents.

Beside the bed lay a delivery slip with the recipient listed as Eva Madden and our home address printed clearly across it.

DELIVERY TIME: Tomorrow morning at 10:00 AM

QUANTITY: 6 Boxes

NOTE: Deliver inside. Occupant authorized receipt.

I stood holding that piece of paper for a long time.

Paul had told me she was just staying temporarily.

But Eva was already moving in.