Chapter 2

Today was our fifth wedding anniversary.

Chloe and I hadn't seen each other in over a month. I had to beg her for weeks just to get her to agree to come home for dinner tonight.

It was dead quiet outside. It was getting late.

I glanced up at the clock. 11:30 PM. The day was almost over.

But Chloe, the other half of this anniversary, was still nowhere to be seen.

I unlocked my phone to text her, but a breaking news notification popped up on my screen first. It was the top trending topic on Instagram:

#Austin and Chloe’s Steamy New Cover Shoot for WQ Magazine#

I knew then that she wasn't coming home tonight.

In the beginning, we were so happy.

Chloe and I grew up in the same group home under the foster system. We were childhood sweethearts. I loved to paint, she loved to sing, and we grew up leaning on each other.

Our love felt as natural, sweet, and inevitable as the changing of the seasons.

The summer after I proposed, Chloe entered a massive national singing competition. She unexpectedly made it all the way to the finals.

She told me that the day she took home the trophy would be the day she proudly told the world I was her husband.

But a week before the finals, tragedy struck. Chloe, naive to the dark side of the industry, drank a bottle of juice given to her by someone claiming to be a fan.

She ended up rolling on the floor in agony, her throat burning like fire. By the time I got her to the hospital, the doctors told me her vocal cords were permanently destroyed.

Outside the ICU, I collapsed against the cold, white wall and prayed to any god that would listen.

I had never been religious, but at that moment, I would have sold my soul to anyone who could help her.

I loved her more than life itself. I was willing to give up anything to save her dream.

Suddenly, a mechanical voice echoed in my head: *“Host Logan, I feel your desperate desire. I will offer you a deal: your voice in exchange for hers.”*

At that moment, I didn’t care if it was a demon, a god, or a System. I agreed instantly, like a moth to a flame, just so Chloe could sing again.

Chloe recovered completely. She won the competition, got signed to a major label, and quickly gained millions of fans and endless endorsement deals.

The price? I lost my voice. I could only make raspy, pathetic grunts from my throat.

But I didn't regret it. The day she won, we got married in secret. Even though it was a hidden marriage, I understood. I wanted to protect her career.

But things soon spiraled out of my control. Chloe's fame skyrocketed, and her social circle changed.

Two years ago, Chloe and the top pop star, Austin, starred in a reality show together. Their "ship" exploded online, gaining a massive following of obsessed fans.

That was when Chloe started staying away from home.

They lived and ate together during filming. Chloe told me it was just for the cameras.

They went on vacations together. Chloe told me it was a PR stunt to dodge the paparazzi.

Even when the entire internet was begging them to date in real life, she told me it was just marketing to promote her new album.

I believed her. As long as she gave me an excuse, I chose to trust her.

But eventually, she stopped bothering to make up excuses.

Her handsome young assistant, Ethan, started driving her home, acting way too familiar with her. When I tried to write down my feelings and ask her to reassure me, she snapped at me, saying I wasn't as gentle or understanding as Ethan.

When I tried to use my raspy, broken voice to struggle out her name, Chloe just looked at me with disgust and cut me off.

"Enough, Logan! You can't even speak clearly. Can you just be mature and give me some space? This is my job. Stop acting like a clingy child, okay?"

I shut my mouth. Completely.

This fifth anniversary was a date I had practically begged her for. We couldn't go to public places, but she had promised she would at least come home to have a quiet dinner with me.

A FaceTime call suddenly rang, dragging me out of my memories. It was Chloe.

I swiped to answer, waiting to see what excuse she would give me this time.