chapter 4

The arrow had left the bow. The illusion was shattered.

I slept deeply—the most sound sleep since wedding planning began.

When I opened the door, Scott stood there.

The bruises under his eyes were stark, his gaze raw. I startled at the sight.

"Rosé. We need to talk. It's not what you think—you can't just give up on me."

His voice was frayed. "Nothing happened. Nothing inappropriate. I just—she was alone. It was her birthday."

Nothing inappropriate.

His hand on her waist was a fact. His smile was real. I had only narrated what my eyes witnessed.

Did she really have no one else—no one but a man she claimed no relationship with—to celebrate with?

A cold laugh rose in my throat. I almost let it out.

I tilted my head. "If you're here to explain, I don't want to hear it. If you're here to discuss the division of assets, I'll compile an inventory once I've moved out. Scott," I sighed, "you know it wasn't me who gave up. You were the one who let go of our ten years."

The words struck a nerve.

He flushed, anger rising like a fever. "Ten years! You think you can just throw that away? From eighteen to twenty-eight—it was always me! You're twenty-eight, Rosé. Do you really have time to start over?"

The air left my lungs. He stared back, equally stunned.

I felt my heart contract into something small and hard. So that was it. To him, I was now depreciated goods.

"No—Rosé, that's not what I meant—" He reached for me, his voice fraying.

I pushed his hand away. "First," I said, my voice steady, "if I don't end this now, should I just pretend nothing happened? Smile and forgive you? Do you think forgiveness is a one-time event? Every time I see you, every time I hear your voice, I'll remember. I'd have to choose, again and again, to swallow it down. The thought disgusts me. You know I don't like to suffer fools. Or betrayals."

"Second," I continued, "I am twenty-eight. What, are you planning to die at twenty-nine? I'm still young. I have time. But you've made one thing clear: investing in a man is a waste of it. I'd rather build something that can't walk away."

"Third." I lifted my gaze, catching the panic in his eyes. "I won't deny these ten years were happy. But this is where it ends. Scott, please. Don't destroy what's left."

He stood there, breathing heavily, each breath a struggle.

I waited in silence, a statue in the ruins of us.

Finally, his voice dropped. "You don't have to move out. I'll go. It's not safe for you to be on your own."

I nodded. Just once.

My heart was calm. Wasn't it?