Brent Delgado finally agreed to take me to Harbor City to see the snow—to make up for the honeymoon he'd never given me.

But while I was packing, I found three plane tickets in his coat pocket.

When I confronted him, he barely glanced up, his tone dismissive.

"Oh, Agatha heard we were going on a trip. The girl wouldn't stop whining about it, so she's coming too."

The blood in my veins turned to ice. I kept my voice steady.

"This is our honeymoon. What's the point if someone else is tagging along?"

Brent looked up from a stack of documents, irritation creasing his brow.

"It's not like we just got married. Why are you being so dramatic? She's been down lately—what's wrong with bringing her along to cheer her up?"

I didn't argue like I usually did. I just zipped my suitcase shut.

"Fine."

——

Brent must have sensed something was off. His voice softened.

"You know about the accident last year. If it wasn't for her brother, I'd be dead. He made me promise to take care of Agatha before he died. I..."

"I know." I cut him off and lay down on the bed. "Let's just sleep. Early flight tomorrow."

Brent opened his mouth to say more, but his phone rang.

A woman's sobbing voice came through the speaker. "Brent... I had another nightmare... there was so much blood... my brother said it hurts..."

"Don't be scared. I'm on my way!"

He grabbed his coat and rushed for the door. At the threshold, he seemed to remember I existed and turned back.

"Eliana Summers, go ahead and sleep. Agatha's been emotionally unstable lately. I need to check on her."

I closed my eyes. "Got it. Go."

He probably didn't expect that reaction. Every other time Agatha called him away with some excuse, we'd fight until one of us stormed off.

The room went quiet. Then his phone rang again, and he left without hesitation.

I pulled out my phone and texted my best friend Blanche Simmons. She was a lawyer.

Help me draft a divorce agreement.

She called back within seconds. "Finally came to your senses?"

I stared at the ceiling. "Yeah. He's always saying I'm inconsiderate, that I have no compassion. Fine. I'll step aside and let them be happy."

Blanche let out a sharp breath. "Are you insane? Why should you hand that cheating bastard and his side piece a happy ending? Hold your ground. Gather more evidence of the affair—I'll make him pay through the nose."

"Blanche, just forget—"

"No. You're doing this my way, or I'll never live it down as a top-tier attorney."

I gave in and started screenshotting Agatha Swanson's social media posts, sending them one by one.

Her feed was a detailed diary of her life with Brent. Him trimming her nails. Him taking wedding-style photos with her. They looked like a couple deep in love.

Just as I finished sending, a new post popped up. Brent in the kitchen, making her congee. Her hand resting on his abs.

The caption read: "Warm stomach, warmer hands ^_^"

My thumb hovered for a moment. Screenshot. Send.

Brent didn't come home that night. Just before dawn, two texts arrived.

"Agatha has a lot of luggage. I won't pick you up—meet at the airport."

"Grab some crab roe buns from downstairs on your way."

Brent hated anything with a strong smell for breakfast. When that shop first opened, I'd bought some after my morning run. His face had gone cold instantly.

"You don't think eating that stuff in the morning is disgusting? Throw it out."

I'd never eaten anything with filling since. I switched to bread and coffee, just like him.

So if he didn't like them, those buns obviously weren't for me.

I dragged two suitcases down to the breakfast shop, bought the crab roe buns, and hailed a cab to the airport.

The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "Business trip or vacation? That's a lot of luggage to haul around by yourself."

I smiled. "It's mine and... a friend's."

He clicked his tongue. "Some friend, making a skinny little thing like you haul all this luggage by yourself. He'd better treat you to a nice dinner later."

I didn't respond, just watched the streets blur past the window as memories of Brent flickered through my mind.

I suddenly remembered the morning he'd proposed—holding a small ring bought with his very first paycheck after graduation.

"I'll spend my life protecting you," he'd said.

The promise hadn't changed. Just the person it was meant for.

I slipped the ring off my finger and tossed it out the window.

Half an hour later, we arrived at the airport.

Brent frowned as he took the meal container from my hands. "What took you so long? Agatha has a sensitive stomach—you know she can't skip meals."

Agatha bounced over with a grin. "Eliana, don't be mad at him. We were up so late last night that we missed breakfast. I was going to just grab a bread roll, but he insisted I eat a proper meal. Isn't he annoying?"

Brent gave her cheek a gentle pinch. "No more junk food. Just tell me what you want to eat."

I looked away, grabbed my suitcase, and headed toward the service counter.

As I passed Agatha, the half-eaten meal in her hands suddenly flipped onto me. My white down jacket was instantly covered in stains.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry, Eliana! My blood sugar dropped from waiting so long—my hands slipped..."

This jacket was part of a matching set with Brent's. The only couple's outfit we'd had in seven years together. I'd practically begged him to wear it, using our honeymoon as an excuse.

Well. I didn't need it anymore.

I peeled off the ruined jacket and dropped it in the trash, then dug another one out of my suitcase and put it on.

Agatha's eyes instantly welled up. "Eliana, what's that supposed to mean? I really didn't do it on purpose..."

Before I could say anything, Brent stepped in front of her. "What's with the attitude? It's just a jacket—buy another one! Agatha's blood sugar crashed because you made her wait, and you can't even show a little compassion?"

Compassion. That one word had made me back down so many times. In his eyes, I was supposed to put Agatha first in everything, just like he did. The slightest deviation made me selfish. Petty.

He'd forgotten—I didn't owe anyone anything.

I looked at his face, flushed with anger on another woman's behalf. "Maybe if you two hadn't worn yourselves out so late last night, she wouldn't have missed breakfast. But you're right—I guess I just don't have any compassion."

His expression shifted. "Eliana, I can explain—"

"Don't bother. I'm going to print my boarding pass."

At the counter, Brent walked over. "Hold on. I want to upgrade."

The ground staff, a young woman named Mia Collins, typed a few keystrokes. "Sir, there are only two first-class seats left. Do you still want them?"

"Yes." He handed over his and Agatha's IDs.

"She nearly fainted from low blood sugar because of you, and she's still telling me not to be angry at you. How can you keep fighting with someone so kind?"

"She's not feeling well. First class will be more comfortable. I'll take care of her—consider it my apology on your behalf."

I picked up my economy class boarding pass and let out a soft laugh. "Well then, thank you so much."

Brent stared at me, brow furrowed. "Cut the sarcasm. I'm just—"

I didn't wait for him to finish. I turned and walked toward the security line.

I'd heard the same excuses too many times. From now on, I never wanted to hear them again.

The line inched forward. Brent shot me a resentful look, then led Agatha toward the first-class lane.

He didn't glance back once.

I raised my phone and snapped a photo the moment Agatha turned around with that smug look on her face.

After boarding, I scrolled through her social media, saving every recent post one by one.

Looking at her leaning against Brent's shoulder, smiling that sickeningly sweet smile—a wave of nausea hit me.

The guy in the seat next to mine offered me a mint. "Airsick?"

I blinked, then thanked him and took it.

His ears turned slightly red. "I noticed you earlier. Would you want to exchange numbers?"

Agatha's voice drifted over from the aisle.

"Oh, Eliana! Is this a new friend of yours? I had no idea you were so chatty in private—you're always so quiet!"

I looked up, my eyes passing coolly over her arm linked tightly through Brent's.

"Not as talented as you. You go straight for other women's husbands."

The passengers around us shot looks of disgust her way. Agatha quickly pulled her arm back, biting her lip with a wounded expression. "Eliana, how can you say that? I wasn't feeling well, and Brent was just looking after me. But you're married—maybe you should keep your distance from strange men."

The guy next to me clearly sensed the tension. He gave an awkward explanation: "Sorry, I didn't know she was married..."

Brent's expression darkened. His eyes dropped to my left hand. "Where's your wedding ring?"

"Forgot it at home," I said casually.

"Forgot it at home?" Displeasure flickered across his face. "Since when did you get so scatterbrained? Check if you've got all the hotel and attraction tickets. And buy Agatha's while you're at it."

He guided the suddenly dizzy Agatha back to first class. The guy beside me couldn't help himself: "Your husband treats you like that... and you just take it?"

I smiled. "Not for much longer."

Outside the airport, the hotel had sent a car.

Agatha, who usually fought to sit in the front seat next to Brent, had naturally settled into the back with him instead. She chattered at him the whole way.

It wasn't until check-in, when she learned the room I'd paid extra to secure was on a different floor, that her face fell.

"Brent, I don't know anyone here. Don't leave me all alone..."

Brent pressed the room key into her hand. "Be good. It's only three floors away. Call me if you need anything."

Agatha trudged upstairs to unpack, clearly unhappy.

Just then, Blanche sent over the divorce agreement she'd drafted.

Brent's eyes caught the notification. "What agreement? Do you still have work to deal with?"

I shoved my phone into my pocket and gave a vague "Mm."

Seeing my mood, he finally seemed to remember this was the trip I'd been looking forward to for months. He reached for my hand, his thumb brushing over the spot where my ring should have been.

"Don't be upset. I promise—next time, I won't bring anyone else. Go rest. Tonight I'll take you out for local food."

Back in the room, Brent stepped out for a cigarette. When he returned, he was holding a stick of candied hawthorns.

"Try it. They say the ones here in Harbor City taste different from back home."

I kept my eyes on my phone. "You have it. My teeth hurt."

I used to see people posting photos of those things and get cravings so bad I couldn't stand it. Brent had made a joke of it to Agatha—said I was childish, almost thirty and still wanting kid's candy.

Now he'd snuck out to buy me one, and I didn't want it at all.

When I made no move to take it, he tossed it into the trash and turned cold.

"That's enough. How long are you going to keep this up? You have ten minutes. Get yourself together and meet me downstairs."