Chapter 1

The day before we were scheduled to sign our marriage papers at City Hall, Julian handed the keys to my condo—the home I spent three years preparing—to his childhood sweetheart.

She moved into my master bedroom with her toddler, slept in my bed, and wore my nightgown.

She even took down our framed wedding portraits and replaced them with a photo of herself and Julian from ten years ago.

Julian’s relatives urged me to be the bigger person.

"Tara just finalized a messy divorce. She’s going through hell right now. You’re about to officially join the family, Chloe. What’s wrong with letting her stay for a bit?"

That night, I went back to the condo to retrieve my birth certificate and legal papers. Standing outside the cracked bedroom door, I heard Julian softly comforting her.

"Don't cry. Chloe is easy to talk to."

"We can push back the City Hall appointment. We can reschedule the wedding. If seeing her walk down the aisle hurts you, I'll tell her to wait."

"She’s been with me for six years. She can't live without me."

Clutching the property deed inside my bag, I let out a dry laugh.

My parents had sold their old house and emptied their savings to buy this condo outright for me.

Let him play the hero all he wanted.

This wedding was off.

This condo was supposed to be the home Julian and I shared after marriage.

To be precise, it was a premarital asset gifted to me by my parents.

Two years ago, Mom and Dad sold their starter home in the old neighborhood, combined it with their life savings, and bought this two-bedroom condo in full under my name.

Back then, Julian wrapped his arms around me and swore he would treat this place as our shared sanctuary.

He insisted on covering the renovation costs.

Over time, he contributed around eighty-five thousand dollars, mostly for custom cabinetry and major appliances.

I never wanted to take advantage of him, so I kept track of every single cent, intending to treat it as our shared investment after the wedding.

I never imagined that on the eve of signing our marriage papers, he would move another woman in.

When I pushed the front door open, the living room fell dead silent.

Julian was sitting on the couch with a three-year-old boy on his lap.

The boy was clutching the ceramic bear figurine I had purchased for our wedding reception table. One of its ears had already been snapped off.

Tara sat right beside him, her eyes rimmed with red, wearing my nightgown.

It was a crimson silk nightgown I had bought just last month.

I had saved it specifically for our wedding night.

Now it hung loosely over Tara’s shoulders, with dried white yogurt stains smeared near the cuffs.

When Julian saw me, he froze, instinctively setting the child onto the floor.

"Why are you here early?"

I didn't look at him. My eyes were glued to the nightgown on Tara.

"Who told you that you could wear my clothes?"

Tara’s face drained of color, and she dropped her head immediately.

Julian’s mother tossed a coat hanger onto the sofa, her voice dripping with irritation.

"It’s just a nightgown! Tara got soaked in the rain on her way here. What’s the big deal about borrowing it for a night?"

"You're signing the papers tomorrow. Stop throwing a tantrum the second you walk through the door."

I turned my gaze to Julian.

I gave him a chance to speak.

Even a simple explanation, an apology, anything to show he had boundaries.

Instead, he furrowed his brow, looking utterly exhausted.

"Chloe, Tara came all the way here with her kid today, and it was pouring. Her clothes were drenched."

"She just went through a divorce, and her own parents won't take her back. She’s in a terrible mental state. Don't pick a fight over petty things."

Petty things.

Another woman taking over my home was petty.

My bridal nightgown being worn by someone else was petty.

My wedding decorations being destroyed was petty.

Swallowing the bitter lump in my throat, I walked toward the master bedroom.

Before I could touch the door handle, Tara suddenly jumped up, her voice trembling.

"Chloe, I’m so sorry. I didn't know this was your room."

"Julian told me you guys hadn't officially moved in yet, so I thought..."

Before she finished her sentence, tears were already streaming down her face.

Julian stepped forward immediately, blocking her from my view.

"Don't scare her."

"She’s already been through enough today."

Watching him stand protectively in front of Tara made my stomach churn.

Six years ago, when we first started dating, Julian would pull me behind him if a stray dog barked at me on the sidewalk.

Now, he was shielding another woman from me.

I pushed the bedroom door open.

In that single second, the blood in my veins ran cold.

The bedding had been stripped and replaced.

The crimson silk bridal set I had spent weeks picking out was balled up and tossed carelessly onto the bay window seat.

The closet doors hung halfway open, my clothes shoved into a cramped corner.

On the nightstand, our framed engagement photo was gone.

In its place stood an old picture.

In the frame, a twenty-year-old Julian wore a crisp white shirt, smiling brightly at the camera.

Tara stood right beside him, holding a bouquet of daisies.

Their shoulders pressed close together.

Intimate in a way that regular friends never were.

I picked up the frame, turned around, and looked Julian dead in the eye.

"Is this a petty thing, too?"