Chapter 6

I went back to our bedroom and started packing.

Since I worked from home, my wardrobe was incredibly simple. A few lounge sets and two or three casual outfits took up just a tiny corner of the walk-in closet.

It took me less than five minutes to pack them all.

Chloe said Julian had borrowed one of my shirts. But looking at my closet, not a single hanger was empty.

I slowly zipped my suitcase, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. Julian probably thought my clothes were too cheap. He would rather wear a damp designer shirt than put on my "garbage."

As I emptied the last drawer, my hand brushed against a suit bag at the very bottom. My body froze.

I bought this custom suit for our second anniversary.

Chloe always said she loved men in sharp suits. I’m not a bad-looking guy, so for our anniversary, I went to a high-end salon, got my hair styled, and put on the suit. Looking in the mirror, I felt confident.

I was genuinely excited to see her reaction, thinking she would appreciate me dressing up to fit her standards.

But she only met me with humiliation.

"What a waste of a good suit," she had said, barely looking at me. "Justin, don't you think you look completely ridiculous trying to play dress-up? No offense, but you just can't pull it off."

Even though a year had passed, remembering those words still felt like a rusty knife twisting in my chest.

That suit had cost me three thousand dollars—a whole month's worth of illustration royalties at the time.

I pulled the suit bag out of the closet and threw it straight into the trash can.

I would never wear it again anyway. And I would never bend over backward to please someone who would never love me.