After my father passed away, I decided to divide our assets with my husband, Rhys Covington, and return to my hometown of Willow Creek for good.

On the first day, I tricked Rhys into signing the transfer agreement for our shared property.

On the fifth day, I submitted my resignation letter to the community committee.

On the seventh day, I hosted a farewell barbecue with my friends.

At the party, Rhys frowned at the indie folk music I was playing, complaining that his ex-girlfriend, Penelope Croft, wouldn't like it.

I stood, raised my beer bottle, and gave Penelope a distant toast.

In that moment, something between Rhys and me shattered.

Half a month later, I saw Rhys in Willow Creek on what he called a business trip.

Only this time, as the evening breeze swept through the valley, his face was streaked with tears.

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1

Three days after my father's death, Rhys Covington still hadn't shown up.

"Mayor Blackwood, I've made my decision. I'm going to honor my father's last wish and stay here to run the community arts center," I said, my voice steady as I straightened the documents in my hands.

Mayor Silas Blackwood looked taken aback. "Audrey, you've built a whole life for yourself in the city. Why throw it all away to come back to a small town like this?"

I shook my head, my gaze falling to the worn watch on my wrist, the only thing my father had left me. "I'm not afraid. Give me seven days. I'll have all the paperwork sorted."

At seven that evening, I finally returned to our house in Aspen Creek. The dinner on the kitchen island was cold and untouched, exactly as I had left it.

Just as I set down my luggage, I heard footsteps at the door.

Rhys strode in, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a well-tailored charcoal gray suit. His voice was as cool and remote as ever.

"Is there anything to eat? The restaurants are all closed. Can you pack up some of that cream soup Penelope likes? I need to bring it to her. She's been a total mess the last few days, refusing to eat."

I turned, letting him see the exhaustion etched onto my face. "I just got back. I haven't cooked."

Rhys’s brow furrowed, his gaze sliding right past my haggard face without a flicker of concern. He didn’t ask where I’d been, just walked straight to the refrigerator, already focused on his ex-girlfriend's needs.

I stood frozen, watching as he clumsily poured chilled cream of mushroom soup into a pot. In five years of marriage, this was the first time I had ever seen him cook for anyone.

Ever since Penelope Croft broke up with her boyfriend and moved to Aspen Creek, this had become a familiar scene.

Rhys poured the heated soup into a thermos. As he tried to squeeze past me, I stopped him.

"I have to head back home in a few days. Could you sign this? It's an emergency permit for the forestry station—it just needs your signature."

I held out the document—the property transfer agreement I had disguised—and pointed to the signature line.

Rhys barely glanced at it, his attention fixed elsewhere. "Penelope's been having a really rough time, so I haven't been able to get away. Once she's feeling better, I promise I'll go back with you." He scribbled his name.

I lowered my eyes to hide the sting of tears. "Okay."

As we brushed past each other, I caught the faint, cloying scent of gardenia perfume on his suit. I never wore perfume. His ex-girlfriend, however, adored it.

When the front gate clicked shut behind him, I walked stiffly to the kitchen island and carefully folded the signed agreement.

A week ago, Mayor Silas had called. My father had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage while teaching a children's art class. He was being rushed to the hospital.

I'd been frantic, pleading with Rhys. "Can you come home with me? Just this once? My dad, he's—"

Before I could finish, Penelope’s voice cut in from the doorway. "Rhys, hurry up! You promised you’d help me assemble my new IKEA furniture today!"

At the sound of her voice, Rhys's patience evaporated. He shook my hand off his arm and walked out without a backward glance, tossing a single sentence over his shoulder. "I'm busy. Go on ahead. I'll catch up when I can."

And so, I waited. For seven days.

Rhys didn't even show up for my father's burial.

I could only remember my father's last words, his hand gripping mine before his eyes closed for good. "Rhys is a good man. He's an ambitious man, so it's understandable that he's busy with work. I don't hold it against him. Don't you fight with him when you go back."

But, Dad, he isn't busy with the company. He's busy with Penelope.

I wiped away my tears, washed the few dishes in the sink, and put everything away neatly.

The countdown to my departure had begun.

Six days left.

Day One.

I went alone to the office of Julian Sinclair, Rhys's direct superior.

"This is the property transfer application for Rhys Covington and myself. As per the company's senior management regulations, I'm hoping you can approve it as soon as possible," I said.

Julian's hand, holding a coffee cup, froze mid-air. He set the cup down and picked up the document, his eyes scanning it carefully. When his gaze fell on Rhys's signature beside mine, he let out a long sigh.

"You and Rhys always seemed so happy together. How did it come to this? Dividing your assets?"

Yes. How did it come to this?

Mrs. Sinclair had introduced us. He was a rising operations director at Northwood Forestry; I was a project planner for a nonprofit. Everyone said we were a perfect match.

But ever since Penelope returned, all I heard was, "Director Covington is just so devoted to Ms. Croft."

I shook my head, clearing the chaotic thoughts from my mind. "Mr. Sinclair, you can't force feelings. We just want to sort this out quietly."

He said nothing more, simply placing the application in a drawer. "Come pick up the confirmation from my assistant in a few days."

Leaving his office, I walked to a popular cafe in Aspen Creek.

As I approached the counter, my gaze fell on a shelf filled with expensive Geisha coffee beans. In five years of marriage, I had never splurged on a single bag.

Noticing my gaze, the barista, Chloe, smiled. "Just the other day, I saw Director Covington buy several bags of our Geisha. Are you out already? Wow, Ms. Thorne, he really spoils you."

My hand, holding my wallet, froze.

I wasn't even in town a few days ago, and Rhys had never bought Geisha for me.

I remembered Penelope's constant social media posts boasting that she only drank pour-over Geisha. The truth hit me with a dull thud: those coffee beans were for her.

Five years of managing his life, his home, his social obligations, had never earned me a single bag of coffee.

Penelope returned, and she got several.

I couldn't tell if the feeling in my gut was sadness or rage. Facing Chloe's envious smile, I managed a tight one of my own. "One bag, please. I'm buying it for myself."

Day Five.

I picked up the approved documents from Julian's assistant. Then I went straight to the community center where I volunteered to sort out my handover.

The community committee office was quiet.

When I reached my desk, I found my notebook buried under a pile of things that weren't mine. Aromatherapy diffusers, high-end stationery, and luxury brand silk scarves were piled high, occupying every inch of my space.

My notebook was crushed at the bottom. By the time I pulled it out, a permanent crease marred the cover.

A volunteer at the next desk leaned over. "Those belong to Ms. Croft. Director Covington brought them in himself while you were away. He said since you barely use this desk, it might as well be put to use."

That "Ms. Croft" was Penelope.

Just a month ago, she had broken up with her boyfriend and returned to Aspen Creek. Now she was a temporary volunteer here.

I let out a short, bitter laugh, swept all her belongings onto the floor, and began packing my own things.

Just as I was about to finish, a sharp gasp came from the doorway.

Penelope stood in the doorway. And right behind her was Rhys.

"Rhys, look," Penelope’s voice quavered, dripping with manufactured hurt. "My things… they’re all over the floor!"

Rhys strode forward, his first words a cold accusation.

"Audrey, it's just a few things. Since when are you so petty?"

Penelope tugged on Rhys's sleeve, her voice soft and wavering. "I'm so sorry, Audrey. I just thought since you were away, I could borrow a little space. I had no idea it would upset you… It was an honest mistake."

She even bowed her head, a perfect picture of contrition.

Rhys immediately steadied her, his gaze on me sharp and cold. "Audrey, don't push it. Penelope didn't mean any harm. Drop it."

How many times had he gotten angry with me because of her? I'd lost count.

I had no energy for their little drama. I picked up my box and walked toward the exit. But as I passed Penelope, a high-heeled foot shot out, tripping me.

Rhys's eyes widened. He instinctively reached for me, but his hand caught nothing but air.

I crashed to the floor. The contents of my box scattered, and my wrist scraped hard against the rough ground.

Rhys rushed toward me, extending a hand. Then his eyes caught something among the mess. He bent down and picked up two pieces of paper.

"Community Committee Resignation Letter? And this…"

I scrambled to my feet, snatching the papers from his hand. "I've got it. Don't touch my things."

My fierce reaction took Rhys aback, and he just stared. "You're resigning?"

My lips parted, but no words came out. Before I could form a reply, Rhys suddenly laughed. "Wait, if you resign… that frees up a permanent spot on the committee, doesn't it? If Penelope could get that position, she’d finally have a stable job. Then I could stop worrying so much."

The excuse I'd been about to offer died on my tongue. I gave him a long, hard look, then turned and walked out of the office, leaving the rest of my things scattered on the floor.

After submitting my resignation, I was surprised to find Rhys waiting for me at the door, holding my box.

He saw me, pursed his lips, and handed it over. "Your things."

My expression softened slightly. Just as I was about to thank him, he continued, "Could you write Penelope a letter of recommendation? It would give her a better shot at getting hired."

A sudden breeze made my eyes sting. I rubbed them and said softly, "Okay."

Consider it the final payment for our marriage.

Rhys seemed pleased. A smile touched his lips. Then he remembered something. "What about you? What's your next move?"

I turned my head away. "I'll keep doing project planning at another nonprofit."

Rhys nodded, looking relieved. He set the box down and pulled me into an embrace. "Audrey, marrying you was the smartest thing I've ever done. Once things calm down, I promise, we'll go back to your hometown together. We'll finally have that drink with your father."

I leaned against his broad chest, my heart clenching with a pain so sharp it stole my breath.

Too late. It was all too late.

Before Rhys could say more, Penelope drifted toward us. "Rhys, I don't feel well. Let's go home."

Her cheeks were rosy; she didn't look unwell in the slightest. I said nothing and stepped out of Rhys's embrace.

Just as I expected, he released me instantly, his expression shifting to one of alarm. "I'll take Penelope home. We'll talk later."

He carefully draped an arm around her, holding her as if she were made of glass.

I didn't stop them. I bent down, picked up the box again, and on my way past a recycling bin, I threw it in. I no longer wanted anything Rhys had touched.

On my last day, I prepared a barbecue, a farewell for my friends. Most of them were Rhys's colleagues.

As I brought out the last of the grilled corn, I heard a commotion from the backyard.