Chapter 3

Isabella took a bite of meat and leaned against his shoulder.

"How should we spend our time alone these few days while she's away on her business trip?"

Otto ruffled her hair.

"I'll make the arrangements. Just don't stay home—it's too stuffy."

Stuffy.

When Otto and I first started the company, we were dirt poor, crammed into a basement.

Only about a hundred and fifty square feet, windows that leaked drafts, the winter wind cutting straight to the bone.

I lay burning with fever on a secondhand spring mattress, and he held me in silence all night long.

Later, the moment the company started to turn a corner, he emptied his savings to buy that apartment.

When he pressed the keys into my hand, his eyes were rimmed red.

"Zoe, I've finally given you a home."

After that our savings kept growing—enough to buy several apartments at that price.

But we never had the heart to move.

It didn't even have a guest room, yet it had witnessed us go from having nothing to his company going public.

He once said, "Every time I step through that door after work, that's when I really come back to life."

Now he calls it stuffy.

Isabella blinked. "Sure, and I'd love to spend a few days at your bridal home too."

A flicker of disappointment crossed her eyes. "I don't think I'll ever get to live in a bridal home in this life."

"Is that okay?"

I stared hard at Otto.

He'd told me the bridal home would only feel complete when we crossed the threshold together on our wedding day.

So not even I had lived there yet.

Yet he fed her a meatball, his voice doting. "Whatever you want."

My heart stung for an instant, then went completely numb.

For the next five days, Otto still reported everything to me.

Exhibitions, dinners, movies.

With clients, with employees, or on his own.

But I knew who was keeping him company—my best friend.

On the sixth day, he sent me a message.

What time is your flight tomorrow? I'll come pick you up.

I didn't reply.

Back at the office, I handed in my resignation.

My manager was stunned. "This sudden? Your numbers are good—there's a bonus coming in the second half of the year…"

I smiled. "I'm getting married."

His eyes lit up. "To that boyfriend of five years? Congratulations, congratulations. It hasn't been easy getting here."

I shook my head. "Not to him."

His expression turned odd, but he didn't press.

After finishing the paperwork, I went home.

The apartment was very quiet.

I sent Otto a message.

What are you up to?

He sent back a picture of a bowl of soup.

Waiting on that precious best friend of yours, getting her some soup.

I asked: Are you at home?

He sent a sticker of someone patting a cat's head.

Silly, where else would I be if not home?

I didn't reply. I turned, went downstairs, and hailed a taxi.

Destination: the bridal home.

I pushed the door open. Warm yellow light spilled out, and the air was thick with the smell of chicken soup.

Otto sat on the sofa with his arm around Isabella, watching TV.

Warm, peaceful—like home.

And I stood at the door of my own bridal home like an outsider who'd wandered in by mistake.

Hearing the sound at the door, they both turned at the same time.

Then sprang apart like a pair of springs.

Otto stood and came toward me.

"You're back early? Why didn't you tell me to pick you up?"

Isabella braced herself on the armrest, struggling to stand.

Then, as if her strength gave out, she dropped back onto the sofa.

She looked up and forced a smile at me.

"Zoe, please don't get the wrong idea—we just got caught up in the show…"

I looked at her. "You had to come all the way to mine and his bridal home to watch TV?"

Otto frowned. "She was just tired of lying around and wanted a change of scenery to lift her mood."

I turned to him. "Weren't you always annoyed by her? Since when do you speak up for her?"

Isabella's eyes reddened. "Please, don't fight over me…"

She gritted her teeth and pushed herself up again, as if putting everything she had into standing.

"I'm sorry, this is all my fault… I've caused you both so much trouble…"

I watched quietly, and then I laughed.

"Isabella, drop the act."

She stared at me, eyes wide, her face going white in an instant.

Otto's head snapped around toward me too, his pupils shrinking.

The room fell dead silent.