Chapter 2

Ethan's parents were surprised by his sudden change of heart.

"Really, honey?" his mom had said over the phone, a note of cautious delight in her voice. "That's wonderful! There's this lovely girl, Olivia Chen. You remember the Chens? From our old neighborhood book club?"

Ethan vaguely recalled a quiet, smart girl from high school, always with a book. Architect, his mom said, also in Chicago now.

He felt a profound weariness settle over him, a bone-deep exhaustion from the emotional wreckage of the party.

"Sure, Mom," he'd mumbled. "Whatever you think is best. Just... handle it."

He didn't have the energy to care, to choose, to feel anything but the dull ache of betrayal.

A few days later, he was leaving his office when he ran into Maya. Literally.

She rounded a corner, phone pressed to her ear, and collided with him, sending her designer handbag flying.

"Oh! Ethan!" she exclaimed, her voice a little too bright, her eyes wide.

He held his breath, bracing himself.

She bent to retrieve her bag, her movements fluid and graceful.

"Sorry, I was on a call with a client, totally distracted."

He managed a nod. "No problem."

"You've been... distant," she said, her brow furrowing with a practiced concern. "Is everything okay? Are you still mad about Leo's party?"

He wanted to laugh, a harsh, bitter sound. Mad? That didn't even begin to cover it.

"Just tired," he said, the lie tasting like ash. "Long hours."

She seemed to accept this, her expression softening.

"Poor baby," she cooed, reaching out to stroke his arm.

He flinched, almost imperceptibly, but she didn't seem to notice, or chose to ignore it.

Her fingers trailed down his arm, a familiar, possessive touch that now made his skin crawl.

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I miss you. My place tonight?"

He looked at her, truly looked at her, and saw the performance. The carefully constructed allure, the practiced seduction.

"Why, Maya?" he asked, the words out before he could stop them. "Still need more practice?"

Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths.

He saw the internal calculation, the quick shift.

Then, the mask was back in place, her lips curving into a pout.

"Practice what, silly?" she said, her voice laced with playful innocence. "I just want my boyfriend. I want *you*."

Boyfriend. The word was a joke.

He felt a surge of nausea.

"What if I said no?" he mused, more to himself than to her. "What if I said... I'm done with the physical side of things?"

She stilled, her hand dropping from his arm.

A genuine frown creased her forehead. This was not in the script.

"Done?" she repeated, a note of disbelief in her voice. "What are you talking about, Ethan? Don't you love me anymore?"

Love her? He thought. Did she even understand the concept beyond a role to be played?

He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his temple, a dull throbbing that had been his constant companion since the party.

"I... I don't feel well," he said, pressing his fingers to his forehead. "Headache."

It wasn't entirely a lie. The stress was making him physically ill.

Maya's expression shifted again, concern flooding her features. Or a good imitation of it.

"Oh, babe, you look pale," she said, her voice soft with worry. "Go home and rest. I'll check on you later, okay?"

She brushed a light kiss on his cheek, a gesture that felt cold, empty.

As she turned to leave, her phone buzzed. He saw the name on the screen: Leo.

Her face lit up, a genuine, unrestrained joy that he'd rarely seen directed at him.

"Leo! Hey! ... Oh no, your guitar string? Before the open mic? ... Of course, I can help! I'll be right there!"

She glanced back at Ethan, a fleeting, dismissive look.

"Just an allergy, you can take an Uber. Leo *needs* me," she'd said something similar before, he now recalled, during an incident where he'd had a severe allergic reaction at a restaurant.

She'd actually left him struggling to breathe to help Leo with a broken guitar string. The memory, once just a strange blip, now slotted into place with horrifying clarity.

He watched her hurry away, her focus entirely on her "dream guy."

He walked to his car, the throbbing in his head intensifying.

He needed to rest, but sleep felt impossible.

His mind replayed her words, her actions, the casual cruelty of her deception.

"You know you're the only one for me," she'd whispered when he'd told her he was going to Michigan to meet Olivia, a trip he'd framed as needing to "clear his head."

Her promises, her declarations of love, they echoed in his mind, hollow and false.

"I'll love you forever, Ethan."

"We'll get married, have a beautiful family."

"You're my rock, my everything."

Lies. All of it, lies.

He realized with a sickening certainty that she'd never intended a future with him. He was a placeholder, a stepping stone.

A feverish heat spread through him, followed by a sudden chill.

He was burning up.

He barely made it back to his loft before collapsing onto his bed, the world spinning.

Hours later, or maybe minutes, he wasn't sure, he felt a cool hand on his forehead.

Maya.

"Ethan! Oh my god, you're burning up!" Her voice was laced with panic. "We need to get you to the ER."

He was too weak to protest as she helped him up, her movements surprisingly strong.

The next thing he knew, he was in a brightly lit hospital room, an IV dripping into his arm.

He blinked, trying to focus. "Where...?"

"ER, silly," Maya said, her voice softer now, a hint of scolding in it. "You really need to take better care of yourself. What if I hadn't come over?"

Then, her attention shifted. "Leo! What are you doing here?"

Leo Vance stood in the doorway, a bandage on his arm.

"Hey, Maya. Just a scratch from that open mic setup. Some idiot left a sharp edge on the stage."

Maya was instantly by Leo's side, her concern for Ethan forgotten.

"Oh, Leo, are you okay? Let me see!" She fussed over the small scratch, her voice filled with genuine worry.

Ethan watched them, a cold detachment settling over him.

He was just an allergy case. Leo was the emergency.

He saw a nurse approach him. "Feeling any better?"

He nodded, his throat dry.

The nurse checked his vitals. "We'll keep you for observation for a bit. Your friend signed you in." She gestured vaguely towards Maya and Leo.

Friend. Right.

He closed his eyes, the image of Maya fawning over Leo seared into his brain.

He needed to get his own discharge papers. He needed to get out.

He was alone in this, and he'd better get used to it.

After what felt like an eternity, the doctor cleared him.

The nurse at the station looked up. "Is anyone with you, sir?"

"No," Ethan said, his voice flat. "I'm alone."

Just then, Maya rushed back, Leo trailing behind her.

"There you are! I was just settling the bill for Leo, and they said you were being discharged." She smiled brightly at the nurse. "I'm with him. Sorry, got a bit turned around."

Ethan said nothing, letting her lie wash over him. It didn't matter anymore.