Chapter 2

Estelle went back to her room. It wasn't until the middle of the night that her door was gently pushed open.

Wallace paused when he saw Estelle sitting on the bed. As he walked closer, the familiar scent of his cologne drifted in along with his voice.

It wasn't the first time Estelle caught that smell on him. Back then, she'd been so clueless, thinking it was just a coincidence that Wallace and Celeste liked the same scent.

She'd even been relieved that her best friend and her husband finally had a chance to patch things up.

Looking back now, she just felt pathetically stupid.

"Why are you still up? I need to talk to you," Wallace said, pulling Estelle into his arms like it was second nature.

He added, "Celeste is marrying into the Beasley family in a month. Aren't you close with her? We can have a double wedding. You and your best friend can get married together."

Estelle didn't believe his words.

She felt that Wallace was probably going to switch Celeste and her at the wedding.

Estelle blinked, but the sting in her eyes wouldn't fade. She wiped away a tear in the dim light.

After a moment, her shaky voice broke the silence. "Okay."

She had some history with the Beasley family, after all.

Wallace's mood visibly lifted when Estelle agreed.

Estelle pretended not to notice his reaction. She reached into her nightstand and pulled out two contracts she'd already prepared. "I saw a place I really liked today. Buy it for me."

When Wallace saw the words on the real estate contract, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. He raised an eyebrow, sizing her up, then gave her a knowing smile. "The old Estelle never used to ask for things like this."

That line almost made Estelle laugh, but the moment her lips twitched, tears started to fall.

After all, the Wallace from back then wasn't the man he was now.

Back then, they'd huddled together in a cold, damp basement, working day and night by the light of a scavenged flashlight.

When they landed their first project, they clung to each other, sobbing with relief. Wallace had promised, "I'll never let you down."

Back then, even holding her hand or stealing a kiss would make him blush like crazy. But now, he could cheat on her so casually.

That past, where they made the best of hardship and love was all they needed, was something neither of them had the right to bring up anymore.

Still, Wallace signed his name on the contract.

Then, without missing a beat, he scrawled his signature across the divorce papers tucked underneath.

After putting the contracts away, they lay down back to back. In the darkness, their breathing mingled. It was undeniably intimate, yet they felt worlds apart.

Suddenly, Wallace got up and walked out. "I'm going to smoke."

He paused for a couple of seconds, expecting Estelle to stop him like she used to. When she didn't, his chest tightened for a moment, but he still left.

After Wallace left, Estelle got up and switched on the light. She walked barefoot across the rug he'd had custom-made for her.

The carpet was soft and warm beneath her feet, but a cold shiver ran through her body. In the very back of her closet, she saw a pair of black and red stockings.

She'd actually discovered them three months ago.

Back then, she'd thought Wallace was planning a surprise for her, and she'd been looking forward to it for a long time.

She never imagined those stockings already belonged to another woman.

Estelle took out the stockings, her fingertips gliding over the fabric. She could almost feel the traces of her husband and her best friend's affair still clinging to it.

Every time she touched another inch, it felt like her heart was being sliced open all over again.

The two people she cared about most in this world were the ones who hurt her the deepest.

Estelle parted her lips, but no words came, just silent tears streaming down her cheeks. When she finally calmed herself down, she grabbed a pair of scissors and started snipping the stockings apart.

The snipping sound was especially sharp in the dead of night.

It thudded like a drum, matching the frantic beat of her heart.