Chapter 2

"Ava, Chloe was in a really bad place last night. I’m taking her to see her therapist today. Can you handle the wedding details for now?"

At eight in the morning, Ethan’s call came in as on-time as an alarm clock.

I leaned against the headboard, my voice still raspy from sleep.

"Do you have to accompany her every single time she’s in a bad mood?"

"How can you say that? You know her condition. If I don't look after her and something happens, who's going to take responsibility?"

"Ethan, the final walkthrough is the day after tomorrow."

Silence on the other end for two seconds.

"But you’re there, aren't you? You know this stuff better than me. Even the wedding planner said you're a natural at this."

He added, "Be good. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done."

I hung up and stared at the ceiling.

When I opened Instagram, Chloe's new post was right at the top.

It was a close-up of a hand. A ring sat on her ring finger under soft lighting. The caption read: "Matching with someone special. What a beautiful coincidence~"

In the bottom left of the photo, a sliver of a man’s sleeve was visible. I recognized that blue-gray shirt. I bought it with Ethan last month.

Someone commented: *Matching what?*

Chloe replied with a smiley face: *It’s a secret~*

I threw my phone face down on the comforter.

At eleven, my college roommate Maya texted me.

"Ava, did you see Chloe's post? Isn't that ring the exact same style as yours?"

I didn't reply.

The second text popped up immediately.

"I shouldn't meddle, but... the day you had your surgery, I saw Ethan at the women's hospital. Didn't he tell you he was out of town on a business trip? I saw him walk out of the clinic with a girl. It was Chloe."

Third text.

"Ava, it's been three years. How many things has he kept from you? The day your dad passed away, where was he really? Do you actually believe he was stuck in traffic?"

I knew where he was.

Ethan's name wasn't on the guest book at the funeral home. He showed up four hours late, claiming there was a massive traffic jam. Later, I checked his Uber history from that day. His destination wasn't the funeral home. It was Chloe's apartment.

He told me Chloe was terrified of thunder. It had rained all day, and she was shivering alone at home.

I didn't pick a fight back then. My mom had fainted twice from crying, and I had no energy left to argue.

As I pulled these memories up one by one, my hands went cold.

I opened our shared UberEats account—we had linked them to get family discounts.

There was a new address in the delivery list. Chloe's apartment, Apartment 302.

There were thirty-seven orders over the past month, all delivered to that address.

Ribeye steak, cheesy garlic shrimp, mango pomelo sago. Whenever he ordered food with me, he only ever said, "Whatever, you decide."

On the twenty-third order, the note read: *Mild and less oil, please. Chloe has a sensitive stomach.*

I scrolled to the bottom, closed the app, and stared at the framed photo of Ethan and me on the desk. In the photo, his arm was around my shoulder, smiling brightly.

When I called him back, his background was noisy. Another mall.

"Ethan, is the ring you bought Chloe the same as mine?"

He paused.

"Who told you that? It was just a simple birthday gift. You're overthinking."

"And the delivery records? How do you explain those?"

The line went quiet for a few seconds, and then his voice turned impatient.

"Ava, do you just have too much free time lately? If you put half this energy into planning our wedding, we’d be done by now."

My hand holding the phone began to tremble.

He finished with one last sentence.

"Stop throwing tantrums. I have to go. Chloe is waiting for me."

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