Chapter 1

My fiancé, Edward Grant, finally flew back after five years of finishing his PhD in Bristania.

Five years ago, when he left, we agreed that we'd get married as soon as he came back.

I went to the airport to pick him up, but he was not alone. His classmate, Claire Evans, was right there with him.

They had both landed the same job back home.

Edward was pushing a luggage cart loaded with both their suitcases.

He walked out with his hand resting lightly on Claire's lower back.

When he saw me, he let go of her and came over, giving me a quick, perfunctory hug.

"I'm back," Edward said. "This is my classmate, Claire Evans. She's new here and doesn't know anyone yet, so I'm helping her out for now."

I glanced at Claire. She looked unnaturally pale, but I figured she was simply worn out from the long flight.

"Nice to meet you," I said to her. "Where are you staying? Edward and I will give you a ride. You can get some rest after this exhausting trip."

"She hasn't found a place yet, so she'll be staying at my apartment for a few days," Edward cut in.

I looked at Edward, stunned.

That apartment was the place his parents bought for him as our future home. It had just been renovated six months ago, and now was the perfect time for us to move in.

I spent five months finding the designer, buying materials, supervising the renovation, and fighting with the construction crew to make it our perfect home.

Now, he was moving his classmate in before I even got the chance.

*****

My smile stiffened.

The airport was a chaotic blur of rushing people and announcements. Edward's voice reached my ears as if it were muffled by a thick wall, and I struggled to catch every word.

I pushed down the ache in my chest and asked, "Your apartment? Did you mean our future home?"

Edward didn't seem to notice my hesitation.

"Yeah. It's been renovated recently, and it's close to my office. Claire just got back and hasn't found a place yet, so she'll stay with me for a few days," he said.

Claire tugged gently at his sleeve.

"Edward, maybe I should get a hotel," she said.

She glanced at me, her eyes showing a hint of apology. But her hand stayed on his sleeve.

Edward immediately looked down at her.

"You're still not fully recovered. I wouldn't feel right letting you stay in a hotel," he said.

He took the car keys from me without a second thought.

"You've been waiting a while, right? Let's get in the car. Claire's in poor health, and she shouldn't be out in the wind," he said.

Claire gave me a weak smile and pulled her trench coat tighter around herself.

That trench coat was the one I'd sent Edward for Christmas last year.

I'd told him the wind in Bristania was brutal and he needed to stay warm.

He'd texted back, [It's good to have a wife who worries about me.]

Now, that coat was on another woman.

Five years ago, when he left, he hugged me and said, "Anna, when I come back, we'll get married."

That day, I stood at the airport, clutching his boarding pass, crying so hard that I couldn't look up.

Over those five years, I changed jobs three times, moved twice, went to the hospital alone when I was sick, and even spent holidays with his parents in his place.

Everyone said long-distance relationships were too hard.

I always said it was fine, that everything would be okay once he came back.

But now that he was finally back, there was Claire, always needing him to hold her waist, always needing him to take care of her.

In the parking lot, Edward tossed both their suitcases into the trunk, then opened the passenger door for Claire. "Claire, hop in."

He shut the door when she was settled in before looking at me. "Anna, you sit in the back. Claire's not feeling well."

Then he walked over to the driver's side.

I didn't say a word. I just opened the back door and got in.

Edward got behind the wheel and set up the navigation like it was second nature.

On the drive, he kept chatting with Claire, laughing about their study-abroad stories, their weird advisor, and the company they were about to join.

I felt like an outsider.

More accurately, I really was an outsider.

I turned my head and stared out the window.

After five years apart, when he called my name, it sounded so awkward, like he was talking to some old acquaintance.

But when he said "Claire," his voice was soft, almost affectionate without him realizing it.

As we left the airport highway, Claire let out a couple of soft coughs.

Edward immediately turned up the heat and pulled a thin blanket from the glove compartment, handing it to her.

I froze. That blanket was one I'd put in the car for myself, just in case.

Before he came back, I'd washed and aired it out, thinking he'd be tired from the long flight.

Claire took it and whispered, "Thank you."

Edward smiled. "No need to be so polite with me."

When we pulled up to our new apartment, Edward parked the car and went straight to the passenger side to open the door for Claire.

He grabbed the suitcases from the trunk. One was his, and two were Claire's.

"Anna, can you help me with one of the suitcases? Don't let Claire carry anything," he said.

Claire looked unsteady as she got out, and Edward instinctively reached out to steady her.

I stood by the trunk, watching them walk side by side toward the building entrance.

From the moment I picked them up until now, he's only said six things to me, and every single one was about Claire.

He never asked if I was tired from waiting, never asked how I'd been these past five years, and never even asked how much work I'd put into making this home for him.

I followed them to the door, watching as he punched in the code—my birthday—without a second thought. The door unlocked with a beep.

This was the home I'd built piece by piece.

But the first person to move in wasn't me.