Chapter 2

The harsh beep of the hung-up call cut through the freezing night wind.

I stood outside the iron gates of Chris’s suburban mansion, dragging my heavy suitcase.

The fingerprint lock on the front door flashed red, and a cold, robotic voice spoke.

"Access expired. Please contact the homeowner."

I leaned against the icy iron bars, my stomach cramping violently from the ten-hour bus ride.

Peeking out from the zipper of my backpack was a pink card.

"Wishing Chloe a bright future and a happy marriage."

My school principal, Mr. Hudson, had personally handed that to me yesterday afternoon.

Because Chris had told me to "stop worrying about petty things," I had resigned from my tenured teaching job.

On this exact day—our 1000th anniversary—I had completely abandoned my stable, quiet life to come to this unfamiliar city alone.

This was supposed to be our first day ending our long-distance relationship.

I crouched in the corner of the wall to block the wind, pressing my hands hard against my aching stomach.

The physical pain dragged my memories back to two years ago.

Back then, I was facing severe bullying at my workplace, and my anxiety was so bad that I couldn't keep food down.

But Chris would drive hours every single weekend, without fail, just to see me.

He would cook my favorite pasta, sit in my tiny, cramped apartment, and gently coax me to take one bite at a time.

He had promised me.

"Chloe, as long as I'm here, you will never have to face the cold winter alone."

That was my saving grace, the very foundation of my courage to risk everything today.

But now, the man who once used his own body heat to warm my hands had completely forgotten about me in this freezing wind, all because another woman was in a bad mood.

At 5:00 AM, a familiar black Mercedes finally pulled into the driveway.

The headlights pierced through the thick darkness.

My stiff body struggled as I forced myself to stand up against the wall.

My frozen facial muscles twitched, trying to force a smile I hadn't used in hours.

The passenger door opened first, and Chris rushed over.

He leaned down and gently lifted Grace—who was lost in a deep depressive state—out of the car.

Grace was incredibly thin, wrapped tightly in a thick, oversized cashmere coat.

The hem of the coat dragged on the ground. It was Chris's favorite coat.

In past winters, whenever I came to visit him, he loved to unzip that very coat, pull me into his chest, and laughingly tell me it was my personal windproof tent.

Now, someone else was in that tent.

Chris lowered his voice, whispering sweet, comforting words into Grace’s ear.

His entire focus was on the woman in his arms. He didn't even spare a glance toward the shadow where I stood.

It wasn't until Grace half-opened her eyes and pointed toward the gate that Chris finally turned around.

When he saw me, shivering and practically frozen solid, a flash of pure shock crossed his face.

After settling Grace down, he slowly walked over to me.

Across the iron gate, his voice was still that beautiful, gentle tone that I used to lose myself in.

"Chloe? Why did you come all this way without telling me?"

"You should have called first."

"Grace had a complete mental breakdown last night and had to take sleeping pills. She can't handle any sudden shocks right now."

"Be a good girl."

"Keep your voice down, okay? Let’s get inside first."

He reached out, trying to grab my heavy backpack.

When his fingers brushed against my icy hand, he froze for a split second.

I looked at the deep concern in his eyes—all of which was reserved for Grace—and realized with absolute clarity.

In this movie of three people, I had become the unwanted extra who was expected to be quiet and understanding.

I pulled my hand back, avoiding his touch, and picked up the two heavy bags myself.

"Okay. I won't wake her."

I stepped into the house I once thought would be my home.

Chris took Grace upstairs to the master bedroom.

It was a long time before he finally came downstairs and poured me a glass of warm water.

"I knew I could count on you to be reasonable, Chloe."

I held the warm glass, my eyes landing on his collar.

There was a smudge of foundation on his shirt. It wasn't my shade.