Chapter 2

The first person I told, or at least hinted to, was Professor Thompson. I met him at a small, cluttered coffee shop near the university, a place that smelled of old books and roasted beans. He was a man with kind eyes and a mind as sharp as a tack, the one who had first ignited my passion for journalism.

"Ava," he said, stirring his black coffee. "It's good to see you. You look... tired."

"It's been a busy time," I said, a massive understatement. "Professor, I wanted to thank you for sending me that correspondent posting. I applied."

He stopped stirring. He looked at me over the rim of his glasses. "You did? That's wonderful news. It's a highly competitive position, but your portfolio is stellar."

"I got it," I said quietly. "I leave in a week."

His eyebrows shot up. "A week? Ava, that's incredibly fast. What about your job here? What about Ethan?"

The name hung in the air between us. Professor Thompson had been my mentor for years; he' d met Ethan at graduation parties and award ceremonies. He knew the story, the family expectations, the weight of my brother's wish.

"This is a big step, a life-altering one," he continued, his voice laced with genuine concern. "Are you sure you've thought this through? These postings aren't just a change of scenery. They're demanding, dangerous."

I took a slow sip of my latte, the warmth doing little to calm the tremor in my hands. I couldn't tell him everything. I couldn't tell him about the broken watch, or the cold emptiness in Ethan' s eyes, or the fact that my fiancé had asked me to cook dinner for his girlfriend.

"I have," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "My brother... he always told me to chase the story, no matter where it led. He would have wanted this for me. He would have wanted me to be brave."

I used my brother's memory as a shield, a justification that was both true and a lie. He would have wanted me to be happy, and this was the only path to happiness I could still see.

My phone vibrated on the table. It was Ethan. A picture message. It was a photo of two wedding bands, simple platinum rings, resting on a velvet cushion.

What do you think? Mom and I saw them today. I think they' re perfect.

I stared at the screen, my stomach turning to ice. He was shopping for our wedding rings with his mother, moving forward with this charade as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't completely shattered my world just days before.

I shoved the phone back into my purse, my hand trembling.

Professor Thompson saw the look on my face. He didn't press. He simply nodded, a deep understanding in his eyes. "Alright, Ava. If this is what you need to do, I'll support you. Let's talk logistics."

Later that night, Ethan called again. I let it ring a few times before answering, schooling my voice to sound normal.

"Did you see the picture?" he asked, his voice bright.

"I did. They're nice," I said, the words tasting like ash.

"Just nice?" He sounded disappointed. "I thought you'd love them. Anyway, I was thinking about the watch. We should really get that replaced. Mom said it was looking a bit old and worn out anyway. It' s time for an upgrade."

An upgrade. He called replacing my brother' s last gift to me an upgrade. He was devaluing my grief, my memory, my love, all in one casual, thoughtless sentence.

"There' s a beautiful Cartier one I saw," he went on, oblivious. "It would look so much better on you."

I closed my eyes. The image of the shattered watch face flashed in my mind. The tiny, delicate hands frozen at the exact moment of impact. The moment my future with him had died.

"Ava? You there?"

"I'm here," I said, my voice a hollow whisper. "I have to go, Ethan. I'm packing."

"Oh, right. Don't forget to pack that blue dress Chloe likes on you. We're going out tomorrow night to celebrate... well, just to celebrate."

I hung up the phone without saying goodbye. I walked over to my desk and picked up the broken watch. Its pieces glittered under the lamplight like fallen stars. There was no going back. There was no fixing this. He had made that perfectly, painfully clear. My escape plan wasn't just a possibility anymore. It was a necessity. I had to figure out how to handle the marriage license, how to disappear without a trace, how to make sure he couldn't follow me. The time for hesitation was over.