Chapter 1

The first thing Ava noticed was the silence. It wasn't the comfortable quiet of a shared evening, it was a heavy, suffocating silence that filled their large, modern home. She stood in the middle of the living room, the smooth fabric of her silk dress cool against her skin. She had chosen it specifically for tonight, a deep crimson that Ethan always said was her color. Five years. Their fifth wedding anniversary. She had imagined a candlelit dinner, soft music, Ethan' s arm around her as they looked back on the life they had built.

Instead, Ethan stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to her, looking out at the city lights. He hadn't said a word since she came home.

"Ethan?" she said, her voice small. "I thought we were going to Celeste's. Our reservation was for eight."

He turned slowly, and her breath caught in her throat. His face, usually so open and full of warmth, was a mask of cold stone. There was no love in his eyes, only a deep, hollow pain that chilled her to the bone.

"We're not going to Celeste's," he said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

He walked to the large oak table in the center of the room. On its polished surface, where she had expected to see a bottle of champagne, sat two stacks of paper. One was a thick, legal-looking document. The other was a heavy, cream-colored envelope with elegant calligraphy on the front.

"What is this?" Ava asked, her heart starting to pound a frantic, uneven rhythm against her ribs.

"Those," Ethan said, his voice unwavering, "are divorce papers. I've already signed them."

The words hit her with the force of a physical blow. Divorce. The word didn't make sense. It was an alien concept, something that happened to other people, not to them. Not to Ava and Ethan.

"I don't understand," she whispered, her hands trembling as she reached for the papers. The legal jargon swam before her eyes, but his signature at the bottom was stark and clear. It was a firm, angry slash of ink.

"I think you do understand, Ava," he said, his tone laced with a bitterness she had never heard before. He slid the other envelope across the table toward her. "And this is for you. A wedding gift, you could say."

Her fingers fumbled with the seal. Inside was a wedding invitation. The names on it made her world tilt on its axis.

You are cordially invited to celebrate the union of Ava and Liam.

Liam. Her childhood friend. The successful tech entrepreneur who had been a constant, steady presence in her life. A friend. Just a friend.

"What is this madness, Ethan? A wedding? To Liam?" she cried, the invitation crumpling in her fist. "Are you insane?"

"No," he said, a cruel, mirthless smile touching his lips. "I' m just giving you what you so clearly want. You don't have to sneak around anymore. I' ve arranged it all. The venue is booked, the caterer is paid. I'm setting you free to be with the man you're in love with."

A wave of dizziness washed over her. None of this was real. It was a nightmare. Just five years ago, on a day just like this, he had stood before her, his eyes shining with tears of joy. He was a sensitive, brilliant artist, and she was an architect on the rise. Their love felt like a masterpiece they were building together, solid and beautiful. He had promised her forever. They had built a home, a life, a future.

She remembered their first meeting at a small art gallery. She had been drawn to a chaotic, vibrant painting, and he had come up to her and said, "It' s about the beauty you find right after a storm." That was Ethan. He found beauty everywhere. He had found it in her.

"There is nothing between me and Liam," she insisted, her voice shaking with a mix of fury and desperation. "He's my friend. My best friend. You know that."

"I know what I know," he said, his jaw tight. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb hovering over the screen. "You posted this an hour ago."

He showed her the screen. It was her own Instagram post, a smiling photo of them from their honeymoon in Greece. Her caption read: Five years with my one and only. The architect of my heart. Here's to fifty more. The comments were a flood of hearts and congratulations. #CoupleGoals, one friend had written. The most perfect pair! said another. The public declaration of her love now felt like a sick joke, a monument to her own cluelessness.

"You can lie to the world, Ava, but you can't lie to me anymore," he said, his voice breaking for the first time. He turned and walked away, heading toward his art studio at the back of thehouse.

Ava stood frozen, the divorce papers in one hand, the twisted wedding invitation in the other. The silence descended again, heavier than before. A moment later, a loud crash echoed from the studio, the sound of shattering pottery. Another crash followed, then another. It was the sound of their life being broken into a million pieces.

She sank to the floor, her crimson dress pooling around her. He was destroying everything. But the most terrifying part was that she had no idea why. He was leaving, he was planning a wedding for her with another man, and he was convinced she had betrayed him. He believed it. And as she listened to the sounds of his rage and pain, a cold dread settled in her stomach. Someone had put this idea in his head. Someone had done this to them.