Chapter 2

I sat in the stark white waiting room at Mount Sinai. The air smelled of antiseptic and fear.

Hours passed. I remembered the Ethan I first knew, or thought I knew.

The charming, ambitious graduate student who'd impressed my father. The one who'd held my hand at Dad's funeral, promising to take care of me.

A phantom limb of that old infatuation ached.

Finally, a doctor approached, his face grim.

"Mrs. Cole? Your husband has severe second-degree burns on his back and arms. He'll recover, but it will be a long process. His keynote at the financial summit next week is definitely out."

"And... Olivia Vance?" I asked, my voice flat.

"Ms. Vance is unharmed. Just shaken up. She's resting."

Ethan's friends, Mark and David, hovered nearby. Mark patted my arm awkwardly.

"He's a hero, Amy. Olivia owes him her life."

David added, "She's just an old friend, really. He'd do that for anyone."

I didn't respond. Their reassurances felt like pebbles hitting a brick wall.

The next morning, I left the hospital before Ethan was allowed visitors.

I went straight to a lawyer, a woman Sarah Chen, my old classmate from Columbia Architecture, had recommended years ago.

Her name was Ms. Albright. Her office was cool, quiet, efficient.

"I want to file for divorce," I said, my voice surprisingly steady.

She nodded, asked questions, took notes. The process was clinical, a counterpoint to the emotional storm inside me.

I signed the initial papers. It felt like shedding a heavy, suffocating coat.

I picked up some soup and a sandwich from a deli near the hospital, a strange, wifely habit I couldn't yet break.

When I got to Ethan's private room, Olivia was there.

She was attempting to feed Ethan soup, her movements clumsy.

She spilled a spoonful down his bandaged chest, and he winced in pain.

"Oh, Ethan, I'm so sorry! I'm useless," Olivia wailed, tears welling in her eyes.

Ethan, despite his obvious pain, managed a weak smile.

"It's okay, Liv. Don't worry. It's not your fault." He coughed. "Besides, I was already planning to step back from this merger. Too intense. Time to re-evaluate."

Olivia's eyes widened. "Step back? But... your career? Will you lose everything?"

Ethan looked at her, his gaze soft, almost reverent.

"You know," he said, his voice raspy, "the only reason I went into investment banking... remember that old movie we saw? With the powerful banker who could give the woman he loved the world?"

Olivia nodded slowly, her eyes fixed on his.

"You said you wanted a man like that," Ethan continued. "Someone who could give you everything. That's why I did it, Liv. For you."

Olivia's breath hitched. Tears streamed down her face.

"Oh, Ethan," she whispered, leaning forward.

She embraced him carefully, mindful of his bandages. He returned the embrace, his good arm holding her close.

It was a scene of profound intimacy, a declaration.

I stood in the doorway, the takeout bag slipping from my numb fingers. It hit the floor with a soft thud.

They didn't even notice.

I turned and fled.

Downstairs, near the elevators, I almost bumped into two of Ethan's colleagues from the bank.

They looked somber. One of them, a senior partner I vaguely recognized, held a folder.

"Mrs. Cole," he said, surprised. "We were just coming to see Ethan."

He gestured with the folder. "These are his approved sabbatical papers. He requested them last week."

My blood ran cold.

"The reason cited," the other colleague chimed in, a younger man, "was his desire to 're-evaluate life's priorities' and 'reconnect with a lost passion' now that 'she' is back in town."

She. Olivia.

His entire career. His planned sabbatical. All for Olivia.

I was a footnote. A placeholder. Disposable.

The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow.

I walked out of the hospital, into the harsh New York sunlight.

My path was clear now. No more illusions. No more waiting for Ethan to choose me.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers surprisingly steady.

I scrolled to Sarah Chen's number. She'd been urging me for years to co-found an architecture firm with her.

She was based in Austin, Texas. A fresh start.

Sarah answered on the second ring.

"Amy! What's up?"

"Sarah," I said, my voice clear and strong. "I'm getting a divorce. And I'm ready to start that firm. I'll move to Austin."

Sarah whooped on the other end of the line. "It's about damn time, Amy! Austin will be great for you! For us!"

For the first time in years, a tiny spark of something like hope ignited within me.

My own passion. My own life.