Chapter 1

The Hayes family had one rule about relationships: no breaking up, only widowed. It was a grim, old-world tradition they clung to like a life raft, a way to signal their commitment and stability. My engagement to Ethan Hayes was bound by that rule, and by the dying wish of my brother, who had loved Ethan like one of his own.

The problem was, Ethan no longer loved me. He loved Chloe Davis.

Everyone knew it. Our friends, his family, even me. I saw it in the way his phone was always angled away from me, in the soft smile that touched his lips when a text lit up his screen. I heard it in the excuses he made, the late nights at the office that always seemed to involve her. Yet, the wedding plans moved forward, a massive, unstoppable train powered by obligation and my brother' s memory.

The final stop for me, the place where I knew I had to get off, came on a Tuesday. It was a watch. My brother' s watch. He had given it to me the day I got my first byline as a journalist. It wasn' t expensive, but it was my most prized possession.

We were at a small get-together Ethan had insisted we attend. Chloe was there, of course. She floated around him, her hand always finding his arm, his back. I was sitting on the couch, my wrist propped on my knee, when Chloe came over.

"Oh, Ava, that's a cute watch," she said, her voice dripping with a sweetness I knew was fake. "Is it vintage?"

Before I could answer, she reached for it. "Let me see."

Her fingers were clumsy, or maybe they weren't. The watch slipped. It hit the hardwood floor with a sickening crack. The glass face shattered.

Silence fell over the small group. I stared at the broken pieces, my breath caught in my throat. It felt like a piece of my brother had just been broken, too.

Chloe gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "Oh my god, I am so, so sorry! It just slipped! I'm so clumsy."

I didn't look at her. I looked at Ethan. I waited for him to see the devastation on my face, to understand what had just happened.

He rushed over, but not to me. He went straight to Chloe, wrapping an arm around her shaking shoulders.

"It's okay, Chloe," he said, his voice soft and soothing. "It was an accident."

He finally turned to me, his expression hardening. "It's just a watch, Ava. Don't make a scene."

I didn't argue. I didn't say a word. The fight had gone out of me, replaced by a cold, hard clarity. This was my life. A life where my pain was an inconvenience and my most cherished memories were dismissible.

That night, I went home to the apartment Ethan and I were supposed to be sharing soon. It was filled with boxes, half-packed for a future that now felt like a prison sentence. I sat at my laptop and ignored the blinking messages from Ethan.

Instead, I opened a different email. It was from my old college mentor, Professor Thompson. He' d forwarded a posting for a foreign correspondent position. It was a dangerous, difficult job, based in a conflict zone. A job I had always dreamed of but had put aside for Ethan.

My hands moved on their own. I pulled up the application form.

Name: Ava Miller.

I started to type.

The next morning, the marriage application arrived in the mail. It was a thick, cream-colored envelope, a formal invitation to my own lifelong sentence. I looked at it, then at the submitted confirmation for the correspondent job on my screen.

I took the envelope and slid it into a box of my brother's old books. I would deal with it later. Or never.

For ten days, I lived a double life. I answered Ethan' s calls with a calm I didn't feel. I packed boxes for our new home. I smiled when he talked about the caterer.

Secretly, I submitted my two weeks' notice at the paper. I got my passport renewed. I sold my car. I told my landlord I wouldn't be renewing my lease. Each action was a quiet snip of the threads that tied me to this life.

My last day in the city was a Thursday. It was the day I was supposed to move the last of my things into Ethan' s place. He called me that morning, his voice light and casual, completely oblivious.

"Hey, can you pick up some groceries on your way over? Chloe' s having some friends over tonight, and I told her you' d cook. You make that pasta she likes."

He paused, then added as an afterthought, "Oh, and I was thinking, we can go look for a new watch for you this weekend. A better one."

A cold smile touched my lips. "Of course, Ethan. No problem."

"Great. See you later."

He hung up. I stood in my empty apartment, my one suitcase by the door. I looked out the window at the city I was about to leave behind.

I did not buy the groceries. I did not go to his apartment. I went to the airport.

Later, I imagined him coming home, finding no food, no Ava. I imagined him calling my phone, the calls going straight to voicemail. I imagined the slow, dawning horror as he realized I was gone.

And I imagined him, months or years from now, finding that cream-colored envelope tucked away in a dusty box. A painful, permanent reminder of the love he had so carelessly thrown away, and the watch he never got the chance to buy.