The result?

Julian just met my hopeful face with cold indifference.

"Babe."

"I know things have been getting a little better for us," he said, grabbing my hand and studying my nails. He shook his head in disapproval. "But the worst thing a person can do is forget where they came from."

"We can't start throwing money around just because life's gotten a little easier, right?"

"What if things get tough again someday? How would you adjust?"

"Babe." He pulled me into his arms. "I still like you best when you keep it simple."

Every ounce of hope in my heart turned to dust.

His words hit me like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. I stood there, frozen, too stunned to even react. I just watched as he peeled the tiny rhinestones off my nails without a shred of hesitation.

"What's the point of flashy things that are all style and no substance?"

Right.

Flashy things.

All style and no substance.

But Lucille was draped in every flashy, insubstantial luxury money could buy, polished like a porcelain doll from another world entirely.

The laughable part? Every dollar spent decorating Lucille had come from the money I'd bled and sweated for over the years.

How was that fair?

The tears came despite my best efforts. I wiped them away hard and stared at Julian's name lighting up my phone again and again, relentless, until I finally hit accept.

"Babe?"

"You finally picked up!"

"Thank God!"

His voice came through, frantic.

"I've been looking everywhere for you! Where did you go? Whatever's going on, can we just talk about it face to face?"

"Maya, we've been together fifteen years!"

"Not fifteen days! You can't just disappear on me like—"

"Julian."

I swallowed the ache in my throat. My voice stayed level.

"Let's meet."

I gave him the address.

"The old house up north. I'll see you there."

Silence on the other end. He was clearly caught off guard.

A few seconds passed.

"Okay."

"Babe, I'm heading over right now." His voice brightened, relief and excitement bleeding through. "I'll grab those soup dumplings you love from that place and bring them along!"

Before I could refuse, he'd already hung up.

I turned and met Natalie's worried gaze.

"I'm fine."

I forced a smile.

"Don't worry."

It had been almost five years since Julian and I moved out of that house. I stood in front of the weathered, peeling door and remembered how, when we'd first moved here from that basement apartment, we'd decorated the place together, pouring our hearts into every detail.

Julian had said back then, "Babe, this is our first real home. It means something."

"When we're old, if you want, we'll come back here and retire."

"Every year, we'll come back and stay for a few days. How does that sound?"

Back then, I'd been so full of joy. I'd felt like my life was worth something.

Now, just a few years later, everything had changed.

I pushed open the door.

Julian was already on his feet, rising from the couch.

"Babe!"

He looked like a kid eager to show off a gold star, holding up the bag of soup dumplings and offering them to me.

"Still hot."

I used to always say I loved those soup dumplings. Loved that Julian would get up before dawn and stand in line to buy them for me.

Later, whenever I mentioned the soup dumplings, all I got was indifference.

"Maya."

"Time is money. You think I have the luxury of standing in some endless line just to buy you dumplings?"

Now here they were again, right in front of me. But somehow, they didn't look all that appetizing anymore.

"Julian."

I ignored his eagerness, walked past him, and sat down on the couch. The old cushions groaned beneath me. Nothing like Lucille's furniture.

"Do you remember this couch?"

I looked at Julian.

"You and I went to the flea market together. Spent two whole days hunting before we finally found it."

"We couldn't bring ourselves to pay for delivery," I said, as though recounting something utterly mundane. "So you borrowed a hand cart, and I walked alongside you holding the armrest, and together we hauled it home in hundred-degree heat. Took us two and a half hours."

"Back then, you said you'd never replace this couch, no matter how much money you made."

"You said it was proof that we loved each other."

Julian's gaze flickered. He couldn't look at me.

I picked up the remote from the coffee table. A strip of tape was wound around its middle, from the time Julian had gotten drunk and dropped it. I hadn't wanted to replace it, so I'd just wrapped it in tape.

I ran my thumb over the ridged edge of the tape.

"But the truth is, things stay and people change. Isn't that right?"

"No!" Julian rushed toward me. "That's not how it is!"

His eyes were already rimming red, the same way they always did whenever he got worked up.

"Lucille and I were an accident!"

"I don't love her!"

"I swear!"

He dropped to one knee in front of me and reached for my hand. I shifted away. I watched the flash of hurt cross his face, and then he kept going.

"That night at the dinner, I'd had too much to drink. I don't even know how Lucille ended up at the hotel. When I woke up, I was terrified. I'm not lying to you!"

Tears spilled down his cheeks.

"I was afraid that if you found out, you'd leave me, that you'd be furious. I didn't know how to face you!"

"So I just—"

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long." My voice stayed flat. "You and Lucille. How long has it been going on?"

Julian went silent. He held my gaze for a long time before the words scraped out of him.

"Three and a half years."

I thought about how Julian used to say he'd come back to stay for a few days every year.

But eventually, he never had the time.

It turned out it wasn't that he didn't have the time.

He'd simply spent all of it on someone else.

A dull ache spread through my chest. Then Julian started explaining again.

"I wanted to end it, but Lucille kept clinging to me. She kept telling me about her family, how they were poor, how her parents favored sons over daughters. I just felt sorry for her..."

His voice grew weaker with every word, until even he didn't have the nerve to finish the sentence.

"Lucille."

"Is pregnant."

It was like a clap of thunder detonating right beside my ear.

I clenched my fists until my knuckles ached. Even though I'd already learned the full truth before coming here, hearing it spoken aloud still sent ice flooding through every vein.

While I'd been dreaming about our wedding, counting down the days—

Julian had already given someone else the life that should have been mine. He'd made me the outsider. And now I listened as he said:

"I figured, you know, you're getting older. Pregnancy would be hard on your body..."

Getting older.

Hard on my body.

What a joke.

"So," Julian looked at me, "I thought she could have the baby. It's really for your own good."

For my own good.

My nails dug into my palms hard enough to break skin, but I didn't feel a thing. He was still talking.

"Just forgive me! I'll agree to anything!"

"Anything?"

I swallowed every ounce of rage and met his eyes.

"Anything!"

A smile broke across my face. I rose from the couch, walked to the front door, and pulled it open. The person standing on the other side got the full force of that smile, which only widened.

"So. Did you catch all of that?"

"Who's the other woman here?"

I looked straight at Lucille, then pulled out my phone and turned it toward the screen, where Natalie was still on the video call.

"This footage goes out unedited. Every single word. Send it straight to the press."

"I don't care how much it costs. I want maximum exposure."

Then.

Someone seized my wrist and yanked me backward. I stumbled, caught my balance, and looked up into Julian's fury-filled eyes.

I smiled.

"Julian."

"You did something wrong."

"You don't get to walk away clean."

"So tell me. Are you satisfied with how this turned out?"