Chapter 5

I swept up the broken glass. I took my pillow and blanket and moved them into the small guest room.

On the nightstand, I found a framed photo. It was the only one we had of just the two of us, taken on a trip to the coast. I pulled the picture from the frame, tore it into small pieces, and dropped them into the trash can.

Olivia didn' t come home that night.

The next morning, I was woken up by noises from the kitchen. I walked out to find Olivia standing over the stove, looking exhausted.

"You' re up," she said, not meeting my eyes. "I' m making some seafood porridge for Mark. He barely ate anything last night."

I noted the irony. She remembered Mark' s favorite comfort food perfectly, but she' d completely forgotten about my life-threatening allergy just yesterday.

"No thanks," I said.

She finally looked at me, her expression soft with apology. "Ethan, about what I said yesterday... I was just upset. I didn' t mean it."

I just shrugged.

"Once Mark' s situation is stable, let' s take that trip we talked about. Just the two of us," she offered.

"Sure," I agreed. It didn' t matter. I' d be gone long before then.

Three days passed in a tense, silent truce. I spent most of my time at the office, avoiding the apartment. When I came home one evening with a friend to help me move some of my larger things into storage, I found Olivia and Mark on the couch. They were huddled together, looking at an old photo album.

Mark looked up as I entered. "Hey, Ethan! Look at this. Do you think Olivia and I have that 'couple look' ? The photographer for our wedding pictures said we looked perfect together."

"Mark, that' s enough," Olivia said, cutting him off, though a faint blush colored her cheeks. She turned to me. "We' re going to a college reunion this weekend. You should come."

"Of course," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm she chose to ignore.

The car ride to the hotel was silent and thick with tension. At the reunion, Mark stuck to Olivia' s side like glue. He held her hand as they walked, whispering old stories into her ear. I followed a few steps behind, a ghost at their celebration.

Their old friends swarmed them immediately.

"Olivia! Mark! I can' t believe you two are back together after all these years!" a woman squealed, hugging them both.

Mark blushed, putting an arm around Olivia' s waist. "Some things are just meant to be."

Someone finally noticed me. "And who' s this?"

Olivia hesitated, her eyes flicking to me for a fraction of a second.

I saved her the trouble. "I' m their friend," I said, my voice steady.

She glanced at me, a complicated look on her face, but she said nothing to correct me.

The rest of the evening was a performance. Olivia doted on Mark, laughing at his jokes, refilling his plate. I watched from the sidelines, nursing a single beer.

Later, I went to the restroom. On my way back, I overheard a friend asking Olivia a question in the now-quieter hallway.

"So, Liv, was there ever anyone else? In all the years Mark was gone, did you ever really love another guy?"

Before Olivia could answer, Mark, who had been listening, interjected. "It' s natural if she did," he said, though his eyes looked suspiciously moist. "I was gone for a long time."

Olivia saw his distress. She reached out and touched his cheek, her voice soft and full of sincerity.

"No," she said, looking right at him. "There was never another man. Not really."

Mark' s face broke into a relieved smile, and he pulled her into a tight embrace.

I didn' t want to see any more. I turned around and left them there.

Hours later, Olivia returned to our hotel room, supporting a very drunk Mark. She managed to get him to the bed, where he collapsed. As she tried to pull the covers over him, he grabbed her arm.

"Olivia," he slurred. "If I had never left... would he even exist?"

Then he pulled her down and kissed her.

At that exact moment, I opened the bedroom door. I' d come back to get my jacket. I saw them, tangled together on the bed. I paused, took in the scene, and then quietly retreated, closing the door.

Olivia must have seen me. She pushed Mark away, scrambling off the bed and chasing me into the small living area of the suite.

"Ethan, it' s not what it looks like! He' s drunk!"

I turned to face her, my expression completely calm. "I know. It' s okay. You should go take care of him. I' m not upset."

Her frantic expression faltered, replaced by confusion and a growing unease.

"Why aren' t you angry?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Why aren' t you ever angry?"