Chapter 2

The pearl heels sat right next to my slippers.

The living room was piled with more than a dozen shopping bags, Molly's designer purse tossed on the couch, and the framed couple's photo on the coffee table turned face-down.

Beside the frame lay a diagnosis report for depression.

I picked up the frame. On the back of the glass was still the date I'd written when Marcus and I chose the photo together.

The edge of the frame dug into my palm as I walked into the master bedroom. My things were already gone from the closet.

Molly's dresses filled the entire rail.

In the spare room, the one we'd used for storage, four black plastic bags were stacked against the wall.

Clothes, books, and work files had been stuffed inside, and one frame was already cracked, the glass jammed into a sweater.

The door lock beeped outside.

Marcus walked into the living room, leading Molly by the hand.

Molly let go of him first.

"Marcus, Julia's back. Won't she be upset when she sees all this?"

Marcus glanced at the bags in the corner.

"Don't worry about her. It's my apartment, I decide."

I came out of the spare room.

"Who changed the passcode?"

"I did."

Marcus held out a takeout box.

"Molly couldn't remember the old numbers, so I switched it to her birthday. You've got a spare key, you get in fine. What's there to fuss about?"

I took the box. Under the clear lid was a slice of mango mousse with a corner missing.

"We already ate. Molly thought it was a waste, so she saved it for you."

The box went into the trash.

Marcus looked at me.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm allergic to mango."

"If you can't eat it, just set it aside. No need to throw it out right in front of her."

"It's her leftovers."

Molly's eyes went red at the rims.

"I just hated to waste it, Julia. You could've told me if you didn't like it."

"I know now."

Marcus stepped in front of her.

"Julia Fox, is a slice of cake really worth losing your temper over?"

"Who put my clothes in the trash bags?"

Molly took half a step back.

"That was me. I thought they were all old clothes you didn't want."

"And the frame, you turned that down too?"

"Seeing photos of the two of you makes it easy for me to have an episode."

She gripped Marcus's sleeve.

"Marcus, I shouldn't be living in your wedding home. I'll leave right now."

Molly turned toward the door, and Marcus reached out to stop her.

"Where can you go on your own?"

"A hotel works."

"The doctor said you can't live alone."

Marcus turned his head and looked at me.

"Julia Fox, back then I took that beating for you and nearly lost my life. Now you won't even lend Molly an apartment? Apologize to her, now."

I wiped the mango cream off the lid of the box.

"No need to lend it. The wedding's off, and this apartment disgusts me anyway. You two can have it."

Marcus's hand froze in midair.

Molly peeked out from behind him.

"Julia, did you misunderstand? Marcus and I ended things a long time ago. I wouldn't take anything of yours."

I pointed at the slippers on her feet.

"Those are mine too."

Molly lifted her foot at once.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Marcus kicked another pair of slippers over to her feet.

"They're just slippers. Do you want her standing here barefoot?"

I didn't answer. I turned and picked up the plastic bags in the corner.

Marcus clamped down on my wrist.

"We're not done talking. Where do you think you're going?"

The plastic handles cut into my fingers. I pulled my hand away.

"Let go."

"Apologize to Molly first."

"The one who should apologize isn't here."

I shook his hand off, and as Marcus stepped back he hit the corner of the table, his right ribs pressing against the edge.

He braced himself on the table, his breathing coming in broken pieces.

Three years ago, Marcus had broken three ribs shielding me from a thief's wooden club.

The doctor had warned him the old injury might flare up again for a long time.

Molly steadied his shoulder.

"Marcus, where does it hurt?"

Marcus didn't answer.

She pulled out her phone and dialed for an ambulance, then pointed at me.

"You knew he'd been hurt. Why did you still shove him?"

"He grabbed me. I was only pulling free."

"He'd give his life for you. So he grabbed you once, what of it? You're nothing but an ungrateful, cold-blooded freak!"

Marcus braced against the table edge and lifted his head.

"Julia Fox, I've clearly spoiled you rotten. You don't even know how to spell gratitude anymore."

The call connected, and Molly gave the address at once.

"Someone here has an old injury flaring up. He broke his ribs three years ago. Please hurry."

I picked up the rest of the bags and did not walk toward Marcus.