Chapter 3

I met Grace at a café near the hospital.

She was wearing a cream-colored sweater dress, her complexion a bit pale, and a small piece of gauze was stuck to her forehead. She looked so delicate and vulnerable, it was impossible not to feel a pang of sympathy for her.

As I took my seat, Grace spoke first. "I'm sorry about what happened yesterday."

"You don't need to apologize," I replied.

She wrapped her hands around her cup, giving a shy smile as she looked down. "Honestly, I never planned to come back home. Jonathan kept urging me to return and rest."

I glanced up at her.

Grace seemed completely unaware of my coldness, her voice gentle and almost innocent. "Please don't misunderstand. There's really nothing going on between us. We've known each other for so long, it's only natural he looks after me sometimes."

That was a masterful line.

It wasn't confrontational, but somehow it made me feel even more uncomfortable.

I looked at her. "Did you ask me here to say that?"

She finally looked up, her eyes showing a fleeting hint of pity.

"Evelyn, I know you don't like me. But some things won't change, even if you don't like them," Grace said softly.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like the fact that he cares about me," she replied.

Grace paused, then added, "You'll have to accept that. You must have known that long ago."

At that moment, I didn't feel like arguing anymore.

Because she was right.

I had known it all along.

I knew better than anyone that the gentlest place in Jonathan's heart was never mine.

But I always believed that if I tried a little harder, acted a little more mature, and waited a little longer, maybe someday he'd actually notice me.

But I waited for three years.

I ended up in a car crash with the girl he always cherished.

He abandoned me in the twisted wreck.

I finally saw things clearly.

I took a sip of my coffee, meeting her gaze with a calm expression.

"Don't worry, Grace," I said quietly.

She paused, surprised.

"I'm done fighting with you," I added.

For a split second, her face went stiff.

I smiled. "It's not because you won. It's because I'm done with him."

With that, I stood up and walked out.

As I stepped out of the café, the wind brushed against the wound on my forehead, making it sting a little.

But I felt surprisingly light.

Turned out, giving up wasn't losing.

I simply didn't want to run myself ragged in a place where I'd never be anyone's top priority.

That night, I moved into a hotel.

When Jonathan got home, the house was almost empty.

He called me.

I picked up.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"I've moved out," I replied.

"Evelyn," Jonathan said, his voice lower than usual. "I told you, we'll talk after my grandma's birthday."

"And I said okay."

"So what do you mean by this?"

"It means we should live separately until then, so neither of us has to feel awkward."

There was a brief silence on the other end.

"Do you really have to do this?"

I stood by the hotel's floor-to-ceiling window, watching the traffic below.

"Jonathan, do you honestly still think I'm just angry?"

He didn't say anything.

I chuckled softly. "You're used to it. Used to me always being the one to patch things up after I get upset."

"That's not what I think."

"But that's exactly how it's always been."

I didn't want to hear any more, so I hung up.

*****

The next day, I went to the office.

I was the Head of Brand and PR at Carter Innovations, and I'd been with Jonathan since the very beginning, back when the company was getting started.

When I handed in my resignation, the HR director nearly jumped out of his chair.

"Ms. Lane, would you like to reconsider?" he asked.

"I've already made up my mind," I replied.

"Does Mr. Carter know?"

"He'll know soon."

As I walked out of the office, I ran into Michael.

He looked conflicted. "Mrs. Carter, Mr. Carter is in a meeting."

"That's fine. He can read the email after his meeting," I said.

When I went back to my office to pack up, a few of my team who'd been with me for two years already had tears in their eyes.

"Ms. Lane, are you really leaving?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"What are we supposed to do now?"

I kept packing, not even looking up. "Do what you're supposed to do. The company isn't going to stop running because I'm not here."

One of the girls sniffled. "But if you leave, Mr. Carter will totally freak out."

My hands stilled for a second, then I smiled. "Let him, then."