Chapter 2

A week later, I was discharged from the hospital. My ribs were tightly wrapped, and every movement sent a jolt of pain through my body. A taxi dropped me off in front of the modern apartment building where Chloe and I had lived for three years. It was a home I had meticulously designed, a space I had filled with hopes for our future.

I hobbled to the door, my duffel bag feeling like it was filled with rocks. I put my key in the lock. It didn' t turn. Confused, I tried again. Nothing. She had changed the locks.

Of course she had.

I leaned against the wall, my head throbbing, and was about to call the building manager when the door swung open.

Liam stood there, shirtless, wearing a pair of my gray sweatpants. He had a toothbrush in his mouth.

He took the toothbrush out and gave me a lazy, overly familiar smile. "Hey, man. What' s up?"

I just stared at him, speechless. He was acting as if it was perfectly normal for him to be opening the door to my apartment.

"Oh, right," he said, noticing my confusion. "Chloe changed the keypad code. For, you know, security. The new code is her and my anniversary. 0-8-1-5."

He said it with a smug little smirk, as if sharing a private joke. August 15th. That was the date we had planned for our wedding.

"She' s in the shower," Liam continued, stepping aside to let me in. "Want some coffee? I just made a pot."

I walked past him into my own living room. It was disturbingly the same, yet completely alien. A guitar case was propped against my bookshelf. A stack of sheet music sat on my favorite armchair. And the smell... the place smelled of his cologne, a cheap, musky scent that clung to the air.

Liam was humming as he poured two mugs of coffee. He was wearing one of my favorite robes now, a plush navy one my mother had given me for Christmas years ago. It hung loosely on his lanky frame.

"Chloe told me you like your coffee black, just like me," he said, holding a mug out to me. "We have so much in common. It' s crazy. It' s like we' re the same person. Soulmates, you know?"

I ignored the mug. My eyes were fixed on the kitchen counter. He was using the French press I had bought in Paris on a trip with Chloe. He was using my favorite mug, the one with the chipped rim that I refused to throw away.

He followed my gaze and chuckled. "Yeah, Chloe said this was your special mug. But she said you wouldn' t mind if I used it. We' re all friends here, right?"

He took a sip, his eyes glinting with provocation over the rim. "She also told me how you two used to have breakfast in bed every Sunday. We tried that last weekend. It was fun, but a little messy."

The casual way he spoke about their intimacy, in my home, with my things, was a calculated act of dominance. He was marking his territory.

"She wants you to take that box of your old winter clothes to storage," he said, gesturing with his head toward a packed cardboard box by the door. "It' s taking up space in the closet."

He was giving me chores. In my own home.

Just then, the bedroom door opened and Chloe emerged, wrapped in a towel, her hair wet. She stopped short when she saw me.

"Ethan! You' re here." She clutched the towel tighter, a flicker of something-guilt? annoyance?-crossing her face before being replaced by a bright, false smile.

"Liam, honey, did you offer Ethan some coffee?" she asked, walking over to Liam and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I tried," Liam said with a shrug. "He' s not being very chatty."

Chloe turned her smile on me. It didn' t reach her eyes. "Don' t mind him, Ethan. He' s just a little protective. We were just organizing some things. You know, spring cleaning."

Her attempt to normalize the situation was pathetic. The man she cheated on me with was half-naked in my living room, and she was calling it spring cleaning.

I remained silent, my gaze sweeping over the two of them. The way Liam' s hand rested on the small of her back, the casual intimacy of their shared space. It was all there, clear as day. I wasn' t heartbroken anymore. I was just... detached. I was watching a scene from a bad play, and I finally understood the plot.

My silence seemed to agitate Chloe. The smile dropped from her face.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there? What do you want, Ethan?" she asked, her voice sharp.

"My things," I said simply.

"Fine," she snapped. "They' re in the bedroom. Just be quick about it. Liam and I have plans."

She turned her back on me, dismissing me completely, and started talking to Liam in a low, affectionate voice about what they should have for lunch.

I walked toward the bedroom, my ribs screaming in protest. The door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and stopped dead.

The room, my sanctuary, was a disaster zone. Clothes were strewn everywhere. But it wasn' t the mess that made my stomach clench. It was what was on the floor, next to the unmade bed.

Two empty wine glasses. An empty condom wrapper. And lying in a heap, her lacy black lingerie. The set I had bought her for our anniversary.

The proof was absolute, undeniable, and stark. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating. They hadn' t even bothered to clean up. They wanted me to see it. They wanted me to be humiliated one last time.