Chapter 2

In the end, only my parents remained with me in the empty church.

"Come back to New York with us, will you?" my mother pleaded once more.

I sat on the pew, looking into their eyes—eyes filled with expectation and worry.

They were the heads of the Vance Group, giants of the New York real estate world. It was under their influence that I had become an architect.

My original life plan had been to join the family business immediately after graduation. But after meeting Julian during my graduate studies at Yale, everything changed. I decided to follow him to Seattle to build a life.

Julian came from a humble background and harbored a deep-seated prejudice against the "privileged class" who relied on family connections. To protect his fragile self-esteem, I concealed my identity.

For seven years, he believed I was just like him—an ordinary person burdened by student loans, fighting my way up from the bottom.

Over these years, I climbed from an assistant architect to a renowned chief designer in the industry. For four consecutive years, Julian and I had won the firm's Annual Design Award; the industry called us the "Golden Duo."

Life seemed to be improving, and I had thought countless times that if I told him the truth now, he might accept it. But the "right moment" was forever interrupted by Bella's "accidents."

Thinking back on it now, I couldn't help but laugh self-deprecatingly. There was no need to explain anymore.

"...Alright," I finally said. "I’m coming home."

Light instantly ignited in my parents' eyes, and my father gripped my hand tightly. "That’s right. The private jet is already on standby at the airport. We absolutely cannot let you stay here and continue to be mistreated."

After seeing my parents off, I returned to the apartment we rented. The silence in the room was terrifying.

I heated up a ready-made lasagna and opened Instagram. Bella’s latest update popped up prominently on my feed. She was wearing Julian's hoodie, holding that blueberry pie, smiling radiantly.

"Saved Mr. Thorpe from a boring rehearsal! To soothe my wounded soul, he specially bought blueberry pie and promised to watch horror movies with me all night!"

A wave of nausea rose in my chest. Julian wouldn't be coming back tonight, just like countless forgotten nights in the past.

Fortunately, we had never legally registered our marriage. So, I didn't need to divide assets or go through tedious divorce proceedings.

The next morning, I dragged my suitcase into the firm, ready to hand in my resignation. My partner, who was also the firm's Senior Director, David Ross, immediately tried to keep me. Just as we were talking, Julian walked in holding a roll of blueprints.

Through the glass door, I saw a faint red mark just above his shirt collar, and I smelled that cheap vanilla perfume on him—Bella's favorite brand. It wasn't hard to guess where he had spent the night.

Julian used to be a germaphobe, hating anyone leaving marks on him. Even in our most passionate moments, I was always careful.

It turned out he wasn't a germaphobe; he just didn't want *me* to touch him.

The moment he entered, David sighed helplessly. "Perfect timing. Talk some sense into your fiancée; she wants to quit. Did you two have a fight?"

"This has nothing to do with him."

"You want to quit?"

Our voices overlapped.

I could feel Julian's sharp gaze piercing the side of my face, his jawline tight.

"So that's what this is about. You're angry about me leaving the rehearsal yesterday, aren't you?"

Sensing the tension, David tactfully found an excuse to leave the office.

The moment the door closed, Julian took a step forward, his tone carrying its habitual accusation. "I already explained, Bella was hyperventilating. It was dangerous. Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. "I'm not angry," I said calmly. "I'm just tired. I want a change of environment. Maybe go to Europe for further studies." It wasn't the truth, but I couldn't be bothered to explain.

Julian crossed his arms, frowning deeply. "If you want to rest, why not just take your annual leave? Quitting suddenly will make everyone think you're targeting Bella. She's just a child fresh out of school. If rumors spread, how will she survive in this circle?"

He seemed to have completely forgotten that I had already used up my annual leave this year—every single day burned because he canceled our vacation plans at the last minute, leaving me to digest my disappointment alone at home. But he didn't care. He only cared about Bella's reputation.

A wave of sorrow washed over me completely.

My gaze swept over the red mark on his neck again, but I said nothing.

"That's from an allergy scratch. Don't overthink it," he explained vaguely, noticing my stare.

I was surprised he could weave such a perfunctory lie. If it were the old me, I might have deceived myself into believing it.

I simply nodded, not exposing him.

Julian let out a sigh of relief, thinking I had compromised once again. He flashed that confident smile and reached out to drape his arm around my shoulder.

"That’s my girl. A chief architect needs to see the big picture."

"Forget about resigning. Tonight, I'll take you to 'Star of the Ocean' for French cuisine. Consider it my compensation."

I didn't speak, so he assumed I agreed. I had intended to say a proper goodbye, but seeing his entitled demeanor, I suddenly felt that saying another word would be a waste.

"Mr. Thorpe!" Bella rushed in without even knocking.

Julian sprang away from me as if he’d been burned.

She stuck out her tongue, revealing a playful smile. "Oops, did I disturb your lovey-dovey time? But I just can't get the drawings for the City Hall project right."

Julian immediately turned to Bella, taking the tablet from her hands. He lowered his head, his tone instantly becoming incredibly gentle.

Bella deliberately pressed close, almost hanging off him. They discussed the project as if no one else was there, treating me like air. She took his arm, and they walked out, talking as they went.

Just before exiting, she glanced back at me, her eyes full of the provocation of a victor.

I was left alone in the room.

Suddenly, the antique watch on my wrist slipped off and hit the ceramic tile floor with a *snap*, the face shattering. It was the gift Julian had given me for our third anniversary. He had once said it represented our time being forever intertwined.

I stared silently at the fragments on the floor. Even as the glass cut my fingers while I picked them up, I felt no pain. I swept the pieces into the trash. Along with them, I discarded seven years of my youth.