Chapter 2
Over the next few days, Avery didn't set foot in the hospital.
She stopped caring about anything related to Charles. Once the heart dies, letting go becomes the easiest thing in the world.
Avery threw herself into sorting through her belongings.
Jewelry she hadn't worn in ages had lost its shine and needed polishing.
Dresses buried deep in the closet had gone damp and musty and needed airing out.
She kept herself so busy that she didn't even notice Charles' footsteps at the door.
"What are you doing? Why is the house such a mess?"
When Charles called out to her, Avery was trying on a gown she had bought the year they got married.
The fitted bodice flared into a ring of ruffled trim, striking and elegant. It hugged her waist and accentuated every curve.
When she turned to look at Charles, she caught a flicker of something in his eyes, gone almost before it appeared.
"Nothing. Just killing time, going through some stuff."
Avery's voice was perfectly flat, betraying nothing.
"When did you get this dress? I don't think I've seen you wear it," Charles asked, his curiosity piqued.
Avery's stomach dropped.
She had picked out this dress with Charles at the department store before their wedding.
She'd tried it on and asked him what he thought.
Charles had barely glanced at it before saying it looked nice.
She had bought it on the spot, secretly thrilled that they shared the same taste.
Now she understood. He had just been going through the motions. He probably didn't even remember the dress existed.
The corner of her mouth twitched with a bitter, self-mocking smile.
"I bought it when we got married. It's fine that you don't remember."
Avery had no desire to exchange another word with him.
Charles looked uncomfortable. "Sorry. I've had a lot on my mind. Must've slipped."
Something about Avery felt different to him ever since he'd gotten back. She hadn't rushed to greet him. She hadn't even asked about his injury.
He fumbled for something to say. "My injury is almost healed, by the way."
"Oh. Good." Avery's tone was so flat she didn't even glance his way.
A strange, uneasy feeling passed through Charles, though he couldn't put his finger on what was wrong.
An awkward silence settled between them. He instinctively reached out to help her sort through the clothes.
The second his hand touched one of Avery's garments, she snatched it away.
"Don't bother. I don't like other people touching my things."
Avery put heavy, deliberate emphasis on the words "other people."
From the moment she decided to divorce Charles, he became a stranger to her.
Charles flinched and pulled his hand back. He stood frozen for a moment before speaking in a low voice.
"Then... I'll let you get back to it. I've got something tonight, so I won't be home for dinner."
"Perfect. I didn't cook anyway." Avery actually felt a wave of relief.
Charles grew even more suspicious. Avery had always gone out of her way to prepare meals to his exact preferences. She never skipped cooking.
He didn't dwell on it. He turned and left.
That evening, Avery dressed up and headed out.
She had spent years choking down the same bland meals alongside Charles, and she was finished. Tonight, she was treating herself.
The state-run restaurant was buzzing with noise and warmth, the golden light catching the savory aromas drifting through the air.
Avery chose a seat by the window and ordered without hesitation—Nashville hot chicken and buffalo wings, dishes she had craved as a teenager but given up entirely after her marriage.
When the fiery red plates hit the table and the sharp, peppery heat hit her nose, she almost cried.
She ate with abandon, savoring the long-forgotten burn of spice blooming across her tongue.
Just then, the wind chime above the door sang out. She glanced up instinctively and froze solid.
Charles and Nina walked in together, side by side.
Charles wore a tender smile Avery had never seen before, his gaze glued to Nina with a focus and warmth that Avery had spent three years of marriage chasing and never once received.
So this was his "something tonight", a dinner date with Nina.
Her heart clenched until she could barely breathe.
She watched them sit down at a table diagonally in front of her, close enough that she could hear every word.
Nina studied the menu with a coy pout. "Charles, everything here looks pretty spicy."
Charles took the menu from her with practiced ease, his tone bordering on eager to please. "I know you love spicy food. This place does incredible Cajun cooking. Bold flavors, perfectly balanced. Try some. Eat as much as you want."
He ordered several signature dishes—blackened catfish, crawfish étouffée, and a platter of hot wings, all heavy and bold, identical in heat to the plates sitting in front of Avery.
Avery stared at their table, watching Charles eat those same intensely flavored dishes without batting an eye, dishes he had refused to touch in her presence for three solid years.
So he didn't actually prefer bland food. He wasn't incapable of eating spicy.
He simply refused to make even the smallest compromise for her.
All that restraint, all those so-called habits, existed for one reason only—she wasn't Nina.
A tidal wave of absurdity and heartbreak crashed over her and dragged her under.
The food that had tasted so wonderful moments ago now turned to ash in her mouth.
She couldn't stand another second in this suffocating room. She settled the bill and fled.
But the moment she reached the restaurant entrance, two sleazy-looking men stepped into her path.