Chapter 3

When Julian finally returned, his face was drained, and his clothes were spotted with water stains.

He gasped in surprise when he saw me sitting in the dark living room.

"Why didn't you turn on the lights?"

"Is it fixed?" I asked.

"Yeah, all sorted out. I helped her dry off her soaked books and clothes while I was at it."

He loosened his collar, speaking as if it were routine. "Haven't eaten yet, have you? Want to order takeout?"

"I already ate." I stared right at him. "Did you?"

"I grabbed a quick bite at Chloe’s place. She ordered delivery."

He walked over, attempting to sit next to me on the sofa.

I stood up, dodging his touch.

"Julian, we need to talk."

He sighed, slumping back against the cushions.

"Talk about what now? Scarlett, can't we just live our lives in peace? Why do you always have to obsess over Chloe?"

"Live in peace?"

I scoffed, my eyebrows raising.

"You're the one who doesn't want peace!"

"And she’s the one wedged between us. I'm not obsessing over anything!"

"She’s just a kid!" he shouted, raising his voice.

"A twenty-two-year-old college senior is a kid?" I challenged him.

"Julian, look me in the eye and tell me: is your treatment of Chloe Vance really just about caring for a dead coworker's daughter?"

His eyes darted away for a split second. He didn't answer right away.

My heart sank to the bottom of an icy ocean.

"You remember every single detail about her. You know she hates cilantro, likes her boba tea with light sugar, is terrified of thunderstorms, and loves plushies."

"You even track her menstrual cycle, prepping hot ginger tea and heating pads for her ahead of time."

"Do you remember how long I had that coughing fit last month?"

"Do you remember when my parents' birthdays are?"

"Do you even remember the last time the two of us went to the movies alone?"

Silence. He didn't utter a word.

"You don't remember," I answered for him.

"Your mind, your attention, your whole heart—it's all been consumed by Chloe."

"That's not true!" He snapped his head up.

"Scarlett, I treat her well out of guilt! Because of her dad! I promised him I’d look after her!"

"Look after her to the point where our marriage doesn't even matter?"

"I never said our marriage doesn't matter!" He ran his fingers aggressively through his hair, agitated.

"You're the one backing me into a corner! Scarlett, you never used to be like this."

"You used to be generous, loving, understanding. When did you become so... irrational and petty!"

*Irrational and petty.*

What a joke.

So all my hurt, my loneliness, my heartbreak—it was all just petty jealousy in his eyes.

Looking at this man whom I had loved for seven years and shared a bed with, I suddenly felt like I was staring at a total stranger.

"Julian," my voice dropped to a whisper.

"If one day, Chloe and I both needed you at the exact same time... who would you choose?"

"Hypothetical questions are completely meaningless!"

"Answer me."

He fell into a suffocating silence. It stretched on until the skyline outside the window dissolved into pitch-black night.

Finally, he said,

"Scarlett, stop asking stupid questions. It doesn't mean anything."

*It doesn't mean anything.*

Right. One was his wife who stood by him through thick and thin, and the other was a girl he felt indebted to.

He wouldn't even offer me a white lie like "Of course I'd choose you."

That night, we slept in separate rooms.

For the first time in our seven years of marriage.

I lay in the guest bed, staring at the ceiling, wide awake.

In the dead of night, I heard his bedroom door click open.

Through the hall, Julian's hushed, overly gentle voice drifted in as he comforted the person on the other end of the line.

I gripped the brass doorknob so hard my knuckles turned white, holding myself back from charging out.

I knew damn well who was on that phone.