Chapter II

Mark had been playing the family man for the past few days.

He hadn't been out to any of those parties at night.

But today, scrolling through Instagram, I stumbled upon a photo Sarah had posted.

The geo-tag? That luxury resort in Aspen.

And in the corner of a shot taken by the fireplace, I spotted a hand.

The wrist bore a limited-edition watch—unmistakably the anniversary gift I’d given Mark.

I grabbed my phone and marched over to confront him, thrusting the photo in his face.

"You went to Aspen with her?"

His face flushed crimson, a mix of embarrassment and panic washing over his features.

"I was just scouting it out! I mean, I’m taking *you* there in a few days, aren’t I? I wanted to check out the venue and the service beforehand."

Since when does a ski resort need "scouting"? That was a new one on me.

And hadn't Sarah always claimed skiing was "torture"?

Why was she suddenly so eager the moment my husband was involved?

"Every time I asked you to go, you refused. But you’re happy to go with Sarah? Mark, how do you expect me not to read into that?"

Seeing my anger,

Mark’s defenses kicked in.

"I told you, I was just checking the place out! If it bothers you that much, fine, let’s go right now! You just want to ski, don't you? Let's book the tickets this second!"

He grabbed my hand, dragging me toward the door.

I yanked my arm free.

"Forget it."

I walked into the bedroom and started packing a suitcase.

Mark stared at me, stunned. "What are you doing?"

I didn’t look up, my hands never pausing in their work.

"My dad's having heart trouble. I'm going back to Chicago to see him."

I’d married Mark right out of college and moved to New York.

His job was on Wall Street; he couldn't leave.

But I was an only child. Now that my father was ill, the fact that I couldn't be by his side immediately was agonizing.

Mark froze.

I watched a flurry of emotions cross his face.

A suffocating silence hung heavy in the air.

"Why didn't you tell me? Honey, I'm worried about Dad, too. Do you want me to come with you?"

I bent down, packed the last item, and zipped the suitcase shut.

"No."

If he really wanted to go, he wouldn't have asked.

That night, I was on a flight to Chicago.

It had been far too long since I’d gone home to spend quality time with my parents.

Looking at my father in his hospital bed, a wave of guilt washed over me.

"Elena? What are you doing here? Where's Mark?"

"I just came to see you, Dad. Mark... he's tied up with a big project right now. He couldn't get away."

My parents wanted nothing more than for the two of us to be happy.

"That’s good, that’s good. I’m fine, really—just the same old trouble, nothing for you to worry about. You shouldn't have tired yourself out making the trip all the way here."

I spent the next few days caring for my father.

Mark, for his part, wouldn't stop blowing up my WhatsApp.

Every day, he asked when I was coming back.

Once my father recovered and was discharged, he urged me to return to New York.

So, I texted my flight details to Mark.

The day I landed at JFK,

a Tesla pulled up to the curb right in front of me.

Mark was sitting in the passenger seat. "Honey, over here!" he called out.

I looked closer. It was Sarah behind the wheel.

Mark stepped out of the car with practiced ease to greet me.

Sarah flashed a smug smile through the window. "Hi, Elena. You can handle your luggage yourself, right? I'm not getting out—it's freezing out there."

Ignoring her, I tossed my suitcase into the trunk.

Mark linked his arm through mine affectionately. "Honey, you're finally back! Sarah heard you were coming home and since she was going this way, she offered to give us a ride!"

I opened the back door, assuming Mark would sit with me. Instead, he reached for the front passenger door and hopped back into the front seat.

Sarah playfully patted Mark on the shoulder, then shot me a glance through the rearview mirror.

"Seriously, Elena, I just didn't trust Mark to drive alone. He's been so exhausted lately."

*Such a delicate man, always needing women to fuss over him.*

A flicker of embarrassment crossed Mark’s face. He quickly changed the subject, unlocking his phone to show me a group chat.

"Honey, Sarah really was just being helpful, okay? Don't get the wrong idea. I've been good these past few days—just sitting at home waiting for you."

The group was full of their crowd. I was the only one missing.

I pressed my lips together. "It's fine."