Chapter 2

When I woke up the next morning, Kyle was still fast asleep.

I didn't bother waking him.

I arrived at my office and handled my schedule as usual.

I worked in brand strategy and marketing. I wasn't at the very top of the industry, but I had built a solid reputation, a loyal client base, and good connections over the years.

I had two meetings in the morning and finalized a new campaign with a client in the afternoon. Everything was smooth and routine.

Except my phone stayed completely silent.

Kyle didn't reach out, and neither did I.

In the past, this kind of silence would have driven me into a panic.

I would have worried sick—wondering if he was angry, if he was holding a grudge—and I would have caved, blowing up his phone with texts and calls to smooth things over.

Not today.

Today, the silence felt like the sweetest relief.

At six-thirty in the evening, I drove back to the condo.

When I unlocked the door, the aroma of garlic, butter, and glazed ribs hit my nose.

Kyle poked his head out from the kitchen wearing an apron, a wide, dazzling smile plastered across his face.

"You're home! Go wash up. I cooked your favorite glazed pork chops."

I stood by the entryway, watching him without taking off my coat.

Seeing that I hadn't moved, he set down his spatula, walked over, and slid his arms around my waist with a playful grin.

"I was awful yesterday. I drank way too much and ran my mouth without thinking. Forgive me, please? I wanted to apologize the second I got back last night, but the liquor hit me so hard I couldn't keep my eyes open."

He looked up at me, his eyes wide and pleading.

"When I woke up today, all I could think was, how could I talk to my girl like that? I’m such an idiot. Babe, please don’t be mad, okay?"

*Babe.*

In the past, whenever he softened his voice and looked at me like that, my heart would melt.

Today, that word grated against my ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"Kyle," I said evenly. "We’re already broken up."

His smile froze instantly.

The hallway went dead quiet.

"Alright, that’s enough," he muttered, dropping his arms from my waist as his smile turned brittle. "I already apologized. What more do you want from me? Stop being dramatic. Let’s just eat."

"I’m not being dramatic." I held his gaze, delivering every syllable with absolute clarity. "I am dead serious. We are over. Pack your things and move out."

Kyle's expression finally shattered.

He stared at me, scowling, as if trying to figure out whether this was an elaborate bluff.

After a few long seconds, his face darkened completely.

"Serena, are you for real right now?"

"Yes."

"Over a few stupid drunk comments?" His voice spiked. "I didn't hit you, I didn't cheat on you! I just had a few drinks and vented some frustration! Are you seriously throwing our relationship away over that?"

I said nothing.

He let out a harsh, contemptuous laugh.

"Fine! Break up! Let me tell you something—at your age, who else is going to want you? You’re thirty-one! An old woman! You really think you can do better than me?"

Those words were meant to cut like a knife straight into my chest.

Oddly enough, it didn't hurt at all.

Maybe because I had already heard it last night.

Or maybe because the nastier he got, the more relieved I felt that I was walking away.

"So you admit it?" I asked calmly. "What you said last night wasn't the alcohol talking. That’s what you’ve truly thought all along, right?"

Kyle froze, caught off guard.

"You think I’m annoying and controlling," I continued, my voice steady. "You think I’m too old for you. You only stayed with me because I took care of you, cooked for you, and paid for your life, didn't you?"

His lips parted to argue, but not a single sound came out.

His silence was the loudest confession.

I let out a faint smile.

"Then this breakup is a blessing for you, isn't it? You’re free now. You can go chase after all the fresh young girls you want. Like Mia. Isn't she great?"

Kyle’s face flashed with guilt and panic. "Why the hell are you bringing her up?"

I didn't feel like wasting another breath. "You have one week to get all your stuff out of my apartment."