Chapter 3

The research project in Iceland was for three years. The institute director had already sent two encrypted emails, eager for me to start next month if I didn't mind. Three years abroad. Away from Alexander. Away from Isabella. Before I could overthink it, I hit the "Confirm" button.

The scene from last night played on a loop in my mind. I had actually considered—even if just for one last time—reaching out to Alexander. Leaving one final memory to take with me. But he had spent the entire night with Isabella, presumably whispering grand business plans to her in front of a hologram.

That is the difference between love and... whatever this inexplicable relationship was.

I couldn't fathom how a man could fake desire so realistically for someone he didn't love. To avoid a repeat of last night's humiliation, I decided to clear my things out today. There were three weeks left until the divorce was finalized. For these three weeks, I would avoid this house.

Most of my lab equipment was already in the institute's warehouse—only a box of clothes remained here. The only personal item was the holographic album in the nightstand.

I activated the small cube. Each holographic image floated in the air like a ghost. In the photos, I was smiling like a fool. And he was stiff as an AI robot, looking anywhere but the camera—usually at his smartwatch.

I snapped the album shut and tossed it into the e-recycling bin. Even the recycling center probably wouldn't want to accept such corrupted data.

For years, I had been an NPC in Alexander Sterling's life. Now, game over. Time to log off.

The next two weeks passed in a daze of thesis revisions and greenhouse work. I barely thought of Alexander—until his phone call interrupted my Friday academic conference.

"I'm outside your botanical garden," his voice came through the receiver, carrying the static of car Bluetooth.

Since when did Alexander Sterling act as anyone's chauffeur?

His silver sports car was parked by the curb, drawing side-eyes from passersby. I slid into the leather passenger seat, inhaling the familiar scent of cedar and metal that clung to him.

"You haven't been home." His gaze remained on the road, data streams flashing on his smart glasses.

"The greenhouse is busy."

"Good." His fingers tapped the steering wheel. "Isabella thought you were avoiding her. She's moving out next month—said the current situation is 'inappropriate.'"

I stifled a yawn. "Tell her not to bother. I don't care."

Alexander's grip on the wheel tightened abruptly, his knuckles turning white from the force. A flash of surprise crossed his face. He opened his mouth—probably to praise me for being "sensible"—but stopped when he saw my closed eyes.

I feigned sleep to avoid conversation, but the exhaustion was real. For the first time in years, my dreams were free of him.

Ten days before Iceland.

I stood before the pharmacy shelf, staring blankly at the vitamin supplements in my hand. I never took these growing up, but lately, my stomach churned at everything else. Plus, my period was late.

The pregnancy test confirmed my fears.

"Ten weeks," the doctor said cheerfully, looking at the data on the tablet. "Congratulations!"

I almost laughed out loud. Ten weeks. That meant it was conceived the last time Alexander and I were together—right before Isabella moved in.

My hand trembled as I dialed Alexander. Twenty-three years old, facing this alone terrified me—

A familiar ringtone echoed down the clinic hallway.

Alexander stood just twenty feet away, his black trench coat draped over Isabella's shoulders. Isabella was whispering something that made him smile. I hung up and ducked into the fire escape.

"—avoid high-intensity work," the doctor's voice drifted through the ajar door. "No long-haul flights for three months."

Isabella was pregnant too.

"I'll ensure she rests," Alexander said, in that gentle tone I so rarely heard.

I bolted from the stairwell like an arrow from a bow, desperate to escape, only to collide head-on with a nurse clutching a clipboard. Papers flew everywhere, the crash loud enough to draw attention from the other end of the hall.

Alexander stepped out of the VIP consult room just in time to see me frantically helping to gather the scattered files, my cheeks burning with the effort to appear composed.

"Elena?" He frowned, taking a step forward. "What are you doing here?"

"Stomach ache." I crumpled the ultrasound receipt in my pocket.

Isabella appeared like a phantom beside him, clutching her own medical report tightly. "Alex told me you often skip meals." She patted his arm. "We should buy her some nutritional supplements for her stomach."

My gaze couldn't tear away from the report in Isabella's hand. That blurry black-and-white image seemed to pulse under the harsh hospital lights.

Alexander's expression grew unnatural. "Elena, listen, let me exp—"

"Alex!" Isabella's fingers hooked into his sleeve like claws, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "We talked about this; it's private."

I watched the conflict play out on his face, watched his jawline tighten, watched his hand twitch before finally curling into a fist at his side.

Then, Isabella pressed her cheek against his shoulder, whispering something that froze him instantly. His arm hung at his side like a mechanical failure.

I turned around before they could see the expression on my face collapse. Behind me, I heard Alexander take a half-step forward—

"Alex!" Isabella's voice turned shrill. "You promised."

The elevator doors slid shut slowly, cutting off the image of my husband standing frozen between two women, his gaze locked on me, his eyes seeming to betray something bordering on regret.

Outside, the Seattle rain pricked my face like ice needles. The acceptance letter from the Icelandic Institute lay buried at the bottom of my backpack. Three years. A groundbreaking study. A life far away from this mess.

And now—a child.

I placed my hand on my still-flat abdomen—everything had changed. The wet streets stretched infinitely in both directions.

For the first time in my life, I had nowhere to go.