Chapter 2

I walked into the apartment and dropped my purse on the counter. A small gift box tumbled out. It was a CD. I had spent weeks editing a video for him, a collection of our memories from the past ten years, ending with a clip of him from years ago, drunk and happy, promising he'd marry me in ten years. This Valentine's Day. Our tenth anniversary. I picked up the CD and dropped it directly into the trash can. A gift you can't give is meaningless.

I looked around the apartment, our supposed "home." There was barely any trace of me here. We bought this place two years ago. Ethan's design studio was still small and struggling, so money was tight. We agreed to keep the renovations simple. But Ethan was a designer, and he gave me a thick stack of blueprints, demanding a specific aesthetic I knew we couldn't afford. His studio work was killing him, so I told him I' d handle it. I took his designs and poured myself into the project, trying to match his vision on a shoestring budget. To save him money, I went to a dozen different places. I remember driving across town to three different furniture outlets just to save two hundred dollars on the exact couch he wanted. Everything, from the big furniture to the smallest decorations, I either bought from cheap online stores or made myself.

It took me six months, but I finished it.

The day we moved in, Ethan invited Ashley over for dinner. I was so excited. It felt official, like I was finally the hostess in "Ethan's and my home." She was the guest. But the first words out of her mouth destroyed everything.

"Ethan, this cabinet is all wrong," she said, not even looking at me. "I've seen the original designer's work. This one, the height is clearly off. Why would you use such a tacky cabinet?"

I looked at the storage cabinet I had spent two full days assembling by myself. I felt my face get hot. It was true, I'd bought a knockoff online. There were so many that looked similar, I had no idea. Ethan just took Ashley's bag from her and sighed.

"Her taste isn't great. It's normal for her to decorate tackily."

Yes, my taste was nothing compared to Ashley's, the award-winning designer. All I knew was that this cabinet was a little taller, which made it easier for Ethan to use without straining his bad back. After that night, the cabinet was pushed into a corner of the storage room. It just sat there, gathering dust. Just like me, always pushed into a corner of Ethan's life, gathering dust.

I started packing. It didn't take long. I realized all my belongings fit into one large suitcase. It was less stuff than I had when I moved out of my college dorm room. I checked my phone again. It was already 1 AM. Ethan still wasn't home. And there was still no reply to my breakup text. It finally sank in. What I thought was our life together, our shared struggle, was just my own solo performance. He didn't care. It wasn't what he wanted at all.

I dragged my suitcase downstairs, ready to call another cab, but then I stopped. I had no idea where to go. As I stood there, hesitating, I saw him. Ethan. He wasn't alone. The streetlights in our complex were dim, making it hard to see, but I could clearly make out two figures getting into the elevator. At this hour, it had to be her. It had to be Ashley.

I looked down at my phone. It lit up with a new message. It was from Ethan.

"I'm tired. I don't want to fight tonight."

That was it. Just that one sentence. Any lingering thought I had of maybe staying one more night, of just waiting until morning, vanished completely.