Chapter 2

But Lawson didn't notice me.

The engine roared, shaking the air as the car shot forward like an arrow.

I drifted in the passenger seat, watching his jaw tighten in anger. And suddenly, I wanted to laugh, laugh at my absurd life, at this man who still schemed against me, even in death.

And I laughed at myself the most. Three years dead, and my soul still hopelessly tied to him.

Guess I had it coming.

When Lawson returned to Marley's apartment, his anger had evaporated. A faint, triumphant smile tugged at his lips.

He tossed his clothes aside, sinking into the couch as if he had just handled some trivial chore.

"It's settled. She won't hide for long. Within three days, she'll have no choice but to come out and sign the papers," he said, voice light.

Marley scooted closer, excitement barely contained. "Really? Lawson, you're amazing! I knew you'd find a way!"

She went for a hug. Lawson caught her, murmuring, "Of course. Dealing with someone like her is child's play. Getting her mute father is even easier than crushing an ant."

I hovered above them, my soul frozen, breath caught in ice.

He always knew exactly where it would hurt.

My father, the mute man who raised me with endless care, was my weak spot.

Lawson had been gentle with him too, once. Patiently using sign language, buying warm clothes.

I had believed he accepted me wholly.

Turns out it was just ammunition, to keep me under his thumb.

"Now I can finally relax!" Marley exhaled, relief spilling over. "Once this is done, we need a real vacation! Mountains? Grasslands? Or maybe... Ostreland? Sun, sand, sea, just what we need to unwind."

The word Ostreland fell like a pin, pricking the air and shifting the mood instantly.

Lawson, leaning against her, went just a little stiff, so subtle I would miss it if I blinked.

Even floating above them, my chest ached.

Ostreland was where we spent our honeymoon.

The ocean was a deep, clear blue, the sand so white that it looked like powder.

At night, he'd hold me close, listening to the waves, and say, "Bethany, I hope we'll always be together."

Back then, his eyes sparkled with hope, like he really believed we had a future together.

Suddenly, the memory flipped.

I remembered when a friend first set us up.

He'd just found out Marley had a new boyfriend overseas, and he was completely lost. His eyes were empty, all the light gone.

I had stayed. Cheered him up. Gave everything, hoping to thaw his frozen heart.

I probably was a temporary fix.

But I clung to the belief that enough love could melt even the coldest stone.

As long as I gave him everything, one day, I could truly and completely replace Marley in his heart.

And in the end, I really did it. I took her place.

For those two years, we were just an average, loving couple.

He'd wait for me after work, and I'd try my best to cook whatever he loved.

On weekends, we'd snuggle up together on the couch, watch movies, and split a baked sweet potato.

The way he looked at me became softer, more trusting, and he smiled at me more and more.

I truly knew what happiness felt like. I truly had him.

Until Marley called him after coming back home.

It was like a sledgehammer, shattering the mirror I'd held together with every bit of love I had.

"Lawson?" Marley called out.

She called his name again, her voice turning a bit uncertain.

"Why so quiet? Not feeling Ostreland? We can pick somewhere else. Your call," he said.

Lawson snapped back to the present. The distant look in his eyes vanished, replaced by a polished, winning smile.

He dipped his head and kissed Marley on the top of her hair, saying, "No, Ostreland's good. You pick, whatever you want."

His tone stayed light, acting like everything was perfectly normal.

But after that, no matter how eagerly Marley mapped out the trip, chatting about which hotel to book or what activities to try, Lawson just smiled and nodded, going through the motions, repeating, "Sure," "Whatever you want," "You decide."

But whenever he glanced down at his phone or got up to get some water, that fake smile would fade away fast.

His eyes would glaze over, staring into space, and he'd zone out, lost in a silence nobody else picked up on.

As I watched him like that, it was almost painfully ironic.

Now he was acting like he actually missed those days?