---- Chapter 3 3 "So, I'm filing for divorce," | told Sarah, cutting straight to the chase after we gushed about 'New Leaf Designs' for a few minutes. "And I'm moving to Austin." There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. "Whoa, Ava. Divorce? Moving? That's... big." "It's necessary, Sarah. Long overdue." | didn't elaborate. She didn't press. That's why she was my best friend. "Okay," she said, her voice regaining its usual pep. "Okay, partner. Let's do this. Austin will welcome you with open arms. And so will |." The next few days, | threw myself into planning. Sketches for potential projects. Business plans. Researching Austin's architectural scene. It felt good. To use my brain again. To feel passion for something other than dissecting Ethan's latest betrayal. My mind, usually a tangled mess of hurt and resentment, felt clearer. Focused. | was an architect. | was good at it. I'd just forgotten. Ethan was still staying with Chloe, "helping her sort things out" after the fire. ---- He'd call occasionally. Brief, distracted updates about Chloe's insurance, Chloe's search for a new loft, Chloe's emotional state. Never about us. Never about me. It was easier that way. It solidified my resolve. He came back to our apartment on our wedding anniversary. | was in the spare room, which I'd started converting into a temporary workspace, surrounded by blueprints and sketches. He stood in the doorway, looking surprised. "Working late?" he asked. He still had soot smudges on his expensive suit jacket from days ago. Or maybe new ones. "Just some personal projects," | said, not looking up. My architectural portfolio needed a serious update. "Oh. Good for you," he said. "Keeping busy." There was an awkward silence. | continued sketching, my lines firm and precise. | felt his eyes on me. "You didn't even ask if | was okay after the fire," he said, a hint of accusation in his voice. | finally looked up. "You seemed to have Chloe taking excellent care of you." My voice was flat. Devoid of the concern he was used to. He frowned. Usually, I'd be fussing over him, even a minor cough would send me into a flurry of maternal care. Not anymore. That Ava was gone. "Right," he said. He shifted his weight. "Well, Dad would be ---- proud you're pursuing your architecture again. He always said you had a real talent." My father. The man whose dying wish had trapped me in this sham of a marriage. The irony was bitter. "Yes, he did," | said. | took a breath. It was now or never. "Ethan, we need to talk." "About what?" He was already pulling out his phone. "Chloe just texted. Her insurance adjuster is being a nightmare." He started tapping out a reply, his brow furrowed in concentration. | watched him. The way his thumb flew across the screen. The intense focus. All for her. My resolve hardened further. This was the right decision. He looked up, pocketing his phone. "Sorry, what were you saying?" "Nothing important," | said. It could wait. My lawyer had the papers ready. "Good. Because | have a surprise for you," he said, a sudden, almost boyish grin on his face. "It's our anniversary, after all." My heart gave a stupid little flutter. Hope, that tenacious weed. "| made a reservation. Chic new restaurant. Meatpacking District. Eight o'clock." He even had a bouquet of roses. Expensive, long-stemmed ---- white roses. My favorites. And a sleek designer gift bag. For a moment, a tiny, treacherous moment, | wondered if | was wrong. If maybe, just maybe, he remembered. Cared. We arrived at the restaurant. It was buzzing. Trendy crowd, low lighting, loud music. "Table for Cole?" Ethan said to the hostess. She smiled brightly. "Right this way, Mr. Cole! Ms. Vance is expecting you!" Ms. Vance? My blood turned to ice. And there she was. Chloe. Standing by a prime table, beaming. It was her restaurant. The grand opening. The roses in Ethan's hand. He presented them to Chloe with a flourish. "Congratulations, Chloe! They're beautiful, just like you." The designer gift bag. He handed it to her. "A little something for the new venture." Chloe squealed, pecking him on the cheek. "Ethan! You shouldn't have!" She ripped open the bag. A limited-edition designer handbag. One she'd posted about on Instagram for weeks. "Oh my god, it's the one! How did you even find it?" Ethan just smiled, basking in her adoration. ---- And me? | was standing there. Holding Chloe's bouquet of roses because Ethan had thrust them at me when he went to hug her. A prop. That's all | was. The prop wife at the other woman's celebration, paid for by my husband, on our anniversary. | opened the ledger app on my phone under the table. "Anniversary dinner was a setup for Chloe's restaurant opening. Flowers and gift were for her. | was the prop. -15 points." Total: -60.