Chapter 1

The clatter of cups at the Brooklyn coffee shop was a dull hum.

"I'm divorcing Ava," I told Liam.

He choked on his latte.

"What? Ethan, are you serious? You guys just..."

"It's been three years, Liam."

My voice was flat, even to my own ears.

I' d already filed the papers. She just needed to sign.

Liam stared, his mouth still open. "But... why? I thought things were... okay."

"Okay isn't enough," I said, looking out at the drizzle starting to coat the street. Deep down, I knew "okay" was a generous word for what we had.

Just then, the bell above the coffee shop door jingled.

Ava walked in.

Her eyes scanned the room, landing on us. A small, polite smile touched her lips.

Liam almost spilled his coffee again, trying to hide his shocked expression.

"Ava, hey," he managed, a little too loud.

She looked perfect, as always, even in casual weekend clothes. Her presence filled the small space.

"Ethan, Liam," she greeted, her voice smooth. "Didn't expect to see you here."

The air grew thick with unspoken words. Liam looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him.

We drove back to our Tribeca loft in near silence. The city lights blurred through the rain-streaked windshield.

"Ethan," Ava said, her voice soft, breaking the quiet. "Those papers you mentioned last month, the ones for the asset management? Where did you say they were?"

My jaw tightened. "Glove compartment."

A month ago, I' d handed her divorce papers. She was on a frantic call about some market dip, Julian' s name a sharp sting in her excuses. She' d signed them without a glance, thinking it was for a shared investment.

My internal bitterness was a familiar ache. Her obliviousness, a constant companion.

The rain hammered down harder.

Her phone buzzed on the console. Julian's name flashed on the screen.

She picked it up immediately.

"Julian? What's wrong?"

Her voice shifted, laced with an instant concern that was never there for me.

I watched her face. The worry lines, the way she bit her lip.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming. Don't move. SoHo, right?"

She hung up, already reaching for her purse.

"Julian' s in trouble. He' s drunk, needs a ride from a bar."

"Ava, we have dinner reservations," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

She didn't even look at me.

"I have to go, Ethan. He needs me."

She was out of the car before I could say another word, disappearing into the rainy night.

I watched her go. Resignation settled in, heavy and cold.

Always Julian. For three years, always Julian.

My unrequited affection felt like a lead weight in my chest.

I thought back to that day, three years ago. The Plaza Hotel, a wedding spectacle. Julian, her charismatic college flame, never showed.

Ava, humiliated, grabbed the microphone. "Is there any single, willing man here who will marry me?"

My heart had hammered. I, Ethan Miller, the quiet architect classmate who' d loved her from afar at Columbia, stepped forward.

A marriage of convenience for her. A lifetime of hidden love for me.

Stolen happiness, I knew, always had an expiration date.

This dream was ending.

I pulled out my phone and sent her a text.

"The papers are in the glove compartment, Ava. Make sure you look at them."

A final, small test.

A final, quiet goodbye to what never really was.

The rain kept falling.