Chapter 4

My skull felt like it was going to split open under the pressure. Before I could say another word, my phone buzzed with a text from Chloe:

[I think we both need some space to clear our heads.]

[Move out for now. We need time apart.]

After that, no matter how many times I called or texted, she left me on read.

Her parents had received the same message. Without another word, they packed up my suitcases.

"Ethan, it's not that we don't care about you, but moving out is best for everyone right now."

Defeated, I had no choice but to leave.

I checked into the corporate apartment my company provided.

Every day, I showed up to work on time, took my prescribed pills, and visited Lucas three times a week.

A month went by, and Lucas finally brought me some good news. "Chloe is almost fully recovered."

"Really?"

My desperate, hopeful expression made Lucas chuckle softly.

He turned his tablet around and played a clip of her recent session.

In the video, Chloe was laughing brightly, her cheeks glowing. She looked just like the girl I fell in love with years ago. A smile tugged at my lips.

"Thank you, Dr. Vance. Thank you so much."

"Ethan, the person you should thank is yourself," Lucas said, his tone suddenly turning dead serious.

I caught a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I have a new treatment strategy, but I'm not sure if you'll agree to it."

"Tell me."

Lucas slid a folder across the desk. The title read: *Separation for Reconciliation.*

"You want Chloe and me to get a divorce?"

Lucas nodded. "It's a temporary shock therapy. You two are each other's emotional triggers right now. Separating legally gives both of you a clean slate. Once your emotions stabilize, getting back together will be a conscious, healthy choice."

He spent over an hour walking me through psychological case studies. He even showed me a recording of his discussion with Chloe.

In the video, Chloe was weeping. "I don't want to leave Ethan..."

Lucas gently comforted her on screen: "If taking time apart allows both of you to heal, won't you return to each other as better people?"

Chloe went silent.

After a long time, she looked up, her tear-stained eyes determined. "Okay..."

Seeing that, I gave in, too.

The next morning, Chloe and I went down to the county clerk's office to file the divorce paperwork.

Standing on the courthouse steps after scheduling our final hearing, we shared a soft, bittersweet hug. "Once the divorce is finalized, let's both work hard to heal."

"Yeah," Chloe whispered.

Because this was just supposed to be a temporary formality, I agreed to sign everything over to her—the house, our savings, everything.

That night, sleep eluded me completely. As if drawn by an invisible thread, I drove back to our old neighborhood and parked beneath our apartment window.

The lights were completely off. I leaned against my steering wheel, sighing in defeat.

Just as I was about to start the engine and head back, a familiar silhouette caught my eye near the entrance.

It was Chloe.

I smiled, stepping out of the car to call her name, but someone beat me to it.

A tall figure stepped out from the shadows, and in the next second, Chloe threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest.

When the streetlamp illuminated the man's face, I stumbled back, gasping for air.

What the hell was going on?!

The brutal realization that I had been played smashed through my brain. Enraged, I sprinted across the pavement, slammed into them, and ripped them apart.

Then, my palm cracked across Chloe's cheek.

"You're fucking cheating on me?!"