Chapter 2

Snowflakes settled on Stefan and Rachel's hair, creating a scene so beautiful it could have been a movie poster.

I zoomed in on the photo, studying Stefan's expression.

He was smiling.

His eyes were crinkled, and the corners of his mouth were turned up. It was a relaxed smile I hadn't seen in a long time.

So Stefan could smile like that too.

"Nancy, it's time for the eulogy," the emcee whispered.

I stepped onto the stage and unfolded the paper in my hand.

The first line read: [My dearest mom—]

Suddenly, my throat tightened.

It felt like someone had shoved a handful of broken glass inside me. Every breath scraped against the sharp edges. I opened my mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

The hall was silent.

All eyes were on me.

I swallowed hard, trying to force those glass shards down, but they only lodged deeper, until my chest started to ache.

"Mom..." I managed to choke out, then collapsed to the ground.

Someone gasped. Others tried to pull me up, but I couldn't hear a thing, couldn't feel a thing. All I felt was the cold biting into me.

Finally, someone yanked me upright.

I had split my forehead when I collapsed. Blood ran down my brow, seeping into my eyes, painting everything a deep, crimson red.

"Nancy..." my aunt sobbed as she wiped my face.

I pushed her hand away and walked over to the coffin.

I pulled a thick stack of papers out of my bag.

They were all the missed calls from Stefan over the past three months: twenty-three in total. I had saved screenshots of every single one and printed them out.

I placed them in the coffin.

"Mom, I think I'm better off alone," I whispered.

At least, my heart wouldn't be any colder than when I was with him.

*****

Three days after the funeral, Stefan came back.

He showed up looking worn out, and handed me a black card.

"This is to make it up to you," he said, dropping the card on the coffee table. "The PIN is your birthday."

I was watering the plants out on the balcony when I heard him. My hand froze.

Water slid down the leaves and seeped into the soil.

"How's Rachel's child doing?" I asked.

"Her kid's condition is stable," Stefan said after a pause. "The operation's scheduled for next month."

"Are they using my kidney?" I asked.

"Yeah," he replied.

I set down the watering can, walked over to the coffee table, and picked up the black card.

It felt smooth and heavy, with a matte metal edge. The card meant unlimited credit. It was the last bit of diginity that came with being Stefan's wife.

I gripped the card tightly with both hands.

With a bit of force, the card snapped in two.

I walked up to my mother's urn and threw the broken pieces in front of her.

"Maybe she'd like it," I said. "I don't need your money."

Stefan's expression turned grim. "Nancy, what the hell do you want?"

What did I want?

I wished I could go back five years and stop myself from signing the wedding agreement.

I wished I could return to the day of the surgery, smash my phone, and never see that update on social media.

I wished I could go back to the moment before my mother passed, and tell her, "Mom, I married the wrong man. Please, don't worry about me."

But I couldn't say that.

"Let's divorce," I said.

The air seemed to freeze.

Stefan stared at me, as if he was trying to figure out if I was serious.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I said, let's divorce," I repeated. "Rachel's kid needs legitimacy. You need an heir. And me—"

I pressed my hand against the surgical wound on my left side. "I need to be free from all this."

*****

The day Stefan and I signed the divorce papers, the weather was perfect.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, flooding the study with light. A pen lay on the polished mahogany desk, its tip glinting coldly.

Stefan sat across from me, looking sharp in his suit.

"The property division is all set up according to your wishes," he said, sliding the papers over. "Besides what was agreed in the prenup, you'll also receive two additional properties and 1.5 million dollars in cash."

I glanced over all those complicated clauses.

"I don't want it," I said.

"Then what do you want?" he asked.

"I need your signature," I said, turning to the last page and tapping where his name should go. "Right here."

His hand hesitated as he gripped the pen. "Nancy, do we really have to take it this far?"

"Yes," I said. "From the moment you decided to use my kidney to save Rachel's kid, there was no turning back."

The pen pressed down, its tip gliding across the paper.

Black ink bloomed, slowly spelling out his name: Stefan Clifford.

I added my own signature: Nancy Landers.

As I finished the final stroke, something warm and sticky pooled in my palm.