Chapter 2

When I returned, Ryan was sitting on a plush velvet chair, his shoes off. Olivia was kneeling in front of him, massaging his feet.

He saw me and gave me a magnanimous smile. "Ah, there you are. Thanks, buddy. You're a lifesaver."

"Say thank you, Ethan," Olivia said without looking up. Her tone was flat, like she was talking to a child.

I stood there, the first-aid kit clutched in my hand. My throat felt tight. I wanted to scream, to throw the kit at them, to tell her everything I was feeling.

But I just nodded. I placed the kit on the table beside him. "You're welcome."

Ryan leaned back, sighing contentedly as Olivia worked on his feet. He looked me straight in the eye. "You know, Liv and I are thinking of getting a place together. A real home." He winked. "Maybe you could help us find one. You're good at... errands."

The jab was deliberate, meant to wound. And it did.

I didn't answer. I just looked at Olivia, hoping to see a flicker of something-discomfort, guilt, anything.

There was nothing. She was completely focused on Ryan.

I walked over to the HR manager who was overseeing the event. "Susan," I said. "I need to put in my two weeks' notice. I'll send the formal email tomorrow."

Susan looked surprised. "Ethan? Is everything alright? Olivia will be lost without you."

"I'm sure she'll manage," I said, my voice hollow. "I'm leaving the city."

My phone buzzed. A message from Olivia.

Forgot my favorite earrings on the dresser. The diamond studs. I need them for the after-party. Bring them to the Starlight Lounge. Now.

Of course. Another order. Another task to prove my usefulness.

I went back to the penthouse we shared, the place that never felt like my home. Her diamond studs were right where she said they'd be, next to a framed photo of her and Ryan from their college days. I' d always hated that photo.

I drove across town, my hands gripping the steering wheel. The Starlight Lounge was on the top floor of a skyscraper, a place for the city's elite.

When I got there, I saw them. They weren't at a table. They were on a small set, a camera crew filming them. It was for a commercial, a new luxury brand. The theme was "Eternal Love."

Olivia was wearing a flowing white dress, looking like a bride. Ryan was in a sharp black suit.

The director yelled, "Okay, Ryan, look at her like she's your whole world! Olivia, touch his face. Gently! Perfect!"

And she did. She touched his face with a tenderness I hadn't seen from her in years. Her eyes, which were always so guarded and calculating, were soft. They were full of a deep, genuine affection.

It was a look she had never once given me.

My heart seized. It wasn't just for the cameras. Part of it was real.

Two women standing near me whispered to each other.

"They are so perfect together," one said.

"I know, right? I heard he's going to propose soon. They've known each other since they were kids. It's fate."

Then, the director shouted, "Okay, big finish! Let's get the announcement!"

Ryan took Olivia's hands. He smiled, a camera-ready, thousand-watt smile. "Olivia," he said, his voice amplified by the microphone. "We've created so much together. A company, a future..."

He paused for dramatic effect.

"And now, I want to officially announce that we are not just partners in business, but partners for life. We're getting engaged!"

The crew erupted in applause. Olivia beamed, tears welling in her eyes as she threw her arms around his neck.

The diamond earrings I was holding felt heavy in my pocket.

I remembered a year ago, on our seventh anniversary. I had bought a simple silver ring.

"Let's get married, Olivia," I had whispered to her in the quiet of our bedroom.

She had laughed. A soft, dismissive laugh. "Don't be silly, Ethan. We can't. Think of my image, my company. It's not the right time."

It was never the right time for me. But for him, she was ready to announce it to the world during a commercial shoot.

I couldn't breathe. The air in the lounge was thick with their manufactured happiness.

I turned and walked out, leaving the earrings, leaving them to their perfect, public life. I didn't run. I just walked, one step after another, away from the last eight years.