Chapter 3

James was caught off guard for a second, and then chuckled. "So you're jealous, huh?" He wrapped his arms around me and gently patted my head. "If you're really that anxious, I can talk to her about the divorce tonight."

I nodded hard, holding back my tears. Then I let out a shaky breath, like I'd come back from the brink, and gripped James's arm. "Okay. Talk to her tonight."

When we got home that night, Emily had cooked up a whole table of food. But there were two place settings.

"Oh, oops, I totally forgot about you," Emily said, barely glancing at me and rolling her eyes at James. "You said you weren't coming back. Now suddenly you showed up and had me scrambling all over the place.

"Why didn't you remind me? I totally forgot to set a place for your girlfriend."

I felt choked up, like my heart was stuck in my throat.

The table was a custom-made wooden one James and I ordered together before we graduated.

He'd kept it all these years. But the tablecloth had been swapped out countless times.

I noticed that every time Emily wanted to pick out furniture, she would text James to get his opinion.

James never crossed any lines. She asked, and he answered. That was it. No extra words, short replies. Not a single cute emoji ever showed up in their chats.

But even so, I still felt like my heart was being crushed.

The tablecloth had a giant strawberry on it with a dollop of cream. That was because Emily said, "I love strawberries so much. I want to see them every time I sit down for a meal." And James said, "Okay."

A bright red rose sat on the table. Because Emily made James bring her one every week, and James always went along with it.

The plates and silverware were a matching set covered in cute designs. James broke a plate by accident, and Emily cut her hand while picking up the pieces. The next day, feeling bad about it, James bought her this new set of dishes.

I stood there in a daze, staring at what used to be mine and James's home.

Now, every corner was marked with signs of James and Emily's life together.

All the things that once belonged to me had been quietly wiped away by their day-to-day routines.

To me, James was still the boyfriend I shared my life with, day in and day out.

But for her, who was James?

As I was thinking about it, everything started spinning, like the ground dropped out from under me.

Because at that moment, I finally understood, the boyfriend I spent every day with was already another woman's husband.

While he helped me fight my way back from the edge of death, he was also out there with her, caught up in the everyday mess and beauty of life.

The James who used to be mine alone was now someone another woman relied on. And he allowed all of it. He never once stopped it.

"Liv, what are you thinking about?" James asked gently.

I was teetering on the edge of a breakdown, but he didn't notice. He still thoughtfully pulled out my chair for me, like always.

Then he took the food from Emily, serving them up without missing a beat.

"Let's eat first. We'll deal with everything else after." He motioned for me to sit down and then served me all the dishes I liked.

Emily shot him a glare and then started eating with a pout, shoveling food into her mouth, clearly annoyed.

Everything they did in this house felt so natural. I was the only one who didn't fit in.

"I don't want it." I suddenly knocked the plate over, spilling red sauce all across the floor.

James stared at me in shock, completely at a loss.

"I don't want this plate. I hate this tablecloth. I don't like anything in this house," I shouted. "Change it back. I want the old stuff. Give me back what I had."

I was losing my mind, acting totally hysterical.

Everything went blurry, and all I could hear was James's nervous, trembling voice echoing in my ears.

"Okay, okay, I'll change it back. Your husband will get it all back for you," James said.

He jumped up and started rummaging through the cabinets. "Liv, please don't cry. I'm trying to find it for you."

Then he called out to Emily, "Emily, where did you put everything? Where are the old plates? And the other stuff? Go find them."

Emily didn't say a word for a long time. Her fork, which had been picking at her food, slowly stopped.

After a moment, she pushed her chair back, stood up slowly, and walked over to a shelf piled with random stuff.

From the bottom of a cardboard box, she pulled out a pale yellow canvas bag, reached inside, grabbed a handful of shattered ceramic fragments, and then tossed them onto the dining table without a second thought.

"There you go," she said.

James's face suddenly turned pale.