Chapter 2

Ethan remained absent. Days turned into a week.

Ava moved like a woman possessed.

She purged their apartment of every trace of their shared life.

His clothes, his books, his awards – boxed.

Photographs of them together – trashed.

Gifts he' d given her over the years – donated.

She was erasing him, systematically, efficiently.

Each item discarded was a small act of liberation.

The apartment began to breathe again, to feel like hers alone.

When Ethan finally returned, late one evening, he found an almost empty master closet and bare walls where their wedding portrait used to hang.

He looked around, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Spring cleaning?" he asked, oblivious.

Ava didn't answer.

"My mother called," he said, changing the subject, already moving on. "She' s expecting us for dinner on Sunday. The whole family."

Ava finally looked at him. "Us? Ethan, we' re divorced. Or will be, officially, in a few days."

"It' s a family obligation, Ava. It would look strange if you didn' t come. Especially after... everything." He meant Chloe's transplant.

"I don' t think I can," Ava said quietly.

He frowned, a brief, uncharacteristic show of something that might have been concern. "Are you not feeling well? The recovery..."

Before he could finish, the doorbell chimed.

It was Chloe, looking vibrant, healthy, a stark contrast to Ava' s lingering fatigue.

"Ava! Ethan! I was just nearby," Chloe chirped, stepping inside. "Ethan, your mom invited me for Sunday too. She said it' s a welcome back for me, and to thank Ava properly. You' ll come, won' t you, Ava? It would mean so much to me."

Ethan' s brief concern for Ava vanished. His face lit up for Chloe.

"Of course, she' ll come," Ethan said, smiling at Chloe. "We wouldn't miss it." He looked at Ava, a silent command in his eyes.

Ava felt a familiar resignation. She nodded, too tired to argue.

Later, as Ava packed a small overnight bag for her parents' place – she' d decided to leave the apartment for good after Sunday – Chloe sat on the edge of the bed, chattering.

"The doctors say I' m recovering wonderfully," Chloe said, beaming. "Ethan has been amazing. He hasn' t left my side."

She paused, then looked at Ava, a subtle probe. "You' re not still upset about... you know... are you, Ava? About the divorce?"

Ava kept her face neutral. "It was a mutual decision, Chloe."

"Good." Chloe smiled, relieved. "Ethan worries, you know. He feels so guilty about how things happened. But he' s so happy now. We both are."

Chloe then launched into a story about a new art piece Ethan had bought for her penthouse. "He remembered I admired it months ago! He' s so thoughtful."

She proudly showed Ava a picture on her phone – an abstract sculpture.

Ava' s mind flashed back. Years ago, she' d wanted to buy a small, cheerful painting for their living room. Ethan had dismissed it. "Too frivolous, Ava. Doesn' t fit the aesthetic." Their home was all cool tones and minimalist furniture, his choice.

He' d never once bought her something just because she liked it.

The conversation around them buzzed. Ethan was talking to Chloe, animated, laughing.

He used to be so brief with Ava, his words measured, almost rationed.

A sharp pang went through Ava. Not of longing, but of regret for her own blindness, for the years wasted.

She took a deep breath. Just a little longer.

Endure Sunday. Then, freedom.

The divorce would be finalized next week.

She would survive this. She had to.