He said nothing.

Kitty posted to her feed again, this time a grid of nine photos. The living room, the study, the garden of the old estate, and one shot of herself. No makeup, a white dress, standing in front of that carved wooden door, looking pale and remote.

The caption read: "Thank you, for being willing to stay when everyone else walked away."

I almost laughed out loud.

That post was meant for Derek. Plain as day.

"What exactly are you to her now?"

"Nothing." Derek looked at me. "I told you. I was just helping her out."

"Then what's a post like that supposed to mean?"

"How would I know what she means?" An edge crept into his voice. "Can you stop being so sensitive?"

Sensitive.

The first time he called me sensitive was the day Kitty left the country. He'd had too much to drink. I asked him what was wrong, and he said it was nothing. When I pushed, asking if it was because of Kitty, he said I was being sensitive.

The second time, we ran into a friend of Kitty's at the mall. The woman smiled and said to Derek, "Did you hear Kitty's back?" Derek said he knew. At home I asked when the two of them had been in touch, and again he said I was being sensitive.

This was the third time.

I stood up from the couch and handed his phone back to him.

"If you want to help her this badly, why don't I just step aside?"

Derek's head snapped up. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like." I looked at him. "The two of you should have ended up together in the first place. If she hadn't insisted on going abroad back then, you never would have married me. Now she's home, things aren't going well for her, and your conscience won't leave you alone. I get it."

"Ruby—"

"I'm tired. We'll talk tomorrow."

I turned, walked into the bedroom, and shut the door.

My hands were shaking. Not from anger. From knowing I was right. The day Derek proposed, I asked him why he'd chosen me. He said, "You're suitable." I assumed at the time that was just his way, a man who didn't waste breath on pretty words.

Only now did I understand. He genuinely thought I was "suitable."

Not like Kitty, the one he could never get out of his head.

My phone buzzed. I picked it up. A message from Derek.

"Kitty is just a friend to me. If it bothers you, I won't contact her anymore."

I didn't reply.

He sent another: "The eight million was my mistake. Tomorrow I'll move the money back into our joint account. Call it a loan."

Still nothing from me.

When the third message came through, I turned off my phone.

At some point it had started raining outside. I lay down and stared at the ceiling. Three years ago, when we got married, I thought I was the luckiest woman in the world.

Derek was handsome, successful, and attentive enough to me. He'd promised not to keep flowers in the house because of my pollen allergy. He said he didn't like cats, then kept three for me. He remembered every one of my habits.

I thought it was because he loved me.

Now I wondered if he'd simply gotten used to being good to someone.

Who that someone was didn't really matter.

I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. A little after two in the morning, I got up for a glass of water and saw the living room light still on.

Derek was awake.

He sat on the couch, phone in his hand, the screen still lit. I stepped closer. It was his chat with Kitty.

The last message was from her: "Derek, thank you for today. The keys to the old estate—when should I give them to you?"

Sent one minute ago.

Derek hadn't answered yet.

I stood behind him for a long time, and he never noticed. In the end I was the one who spoke first. "If you want to go see her, then go. You don't have to hide it from me."

Derek spun around so fast his phone slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.

"When did you get up?"

"Right when you were texting her back."

He bent to grab the phone, his movements clumsy. The second he had it, he jabbed the power button. The screen went black.

"I wasn't planning to go see her."

"Then why won't you answer her?"

"I'm trying to figure out how."

"Figure out how to keep it from me?"

Derek lifted his head and looked at me. His eyes were threaded with red. "Ruby, do you really have to talk to me like this?"

"Then how do you want me to talk?" I set my water glass down on the coffee table. "You say there's nothing between you and her, but she's texting you in the middle of the night and you can't even answer in front of me. You say the eight million was just a favor, but every post she puts up is thanking you. What am I supposed to think?"

Derek stood, his voice dropping low. "We've been married three years. When have I ever lied to you?"

"You're lying to me right now."

He said nothing.

I looked him in the eye. "Derek. Do you still love her?"

I waited a long time.

Long enough that I thought he wouldn't answer at all.

"I'm not that fickle," he said.

I laughed.

It was a brilliant answer. Not "I don't love her." Just "I'm not that fickle." Meaning: he had loved her, but didn't anymore. Or, that he loved her, just not so much.

But spending eight million to buy back an old estate for a woman you "don't love," staying up half the night waiting for her messages, that counted as "not that fickle"?

I didn't call him on it. I picked up my glass and went back to the bedroom.

Lying in bed, I heard movement in the living room. He was on the phone, voice pressed low, but I still caught a few words.

"...Keep the keys. I'm not coming."

"It's fine. Don't read into it."

"Get some rest."

After he hung up, the living room stayed quiet for a long while. Then I heard his footsteps come to the bedroom door, pause, and move away again.

He didn't come in.

I barely slept. Near dawn, I heard the door close. I dragged myself up to look. Derek's car was gone.

Where had he gone?

I glanced at my phone. Kitty had updated her feed, a voice clip this time. I tapped it open.

Her voice was thick with tears. "Derek, are you really not coming? I want to see you."

Posted fifteen minutes ago.

Derek had left fifteen minutes ago.

I sat on the edge of the bed, and it all felt absurd. Three years married, and he never once left in the morning without a word. Every strange thing he'd done lately traced back to Kitty.

A phone buzzed. Not mine. The other phone Derek had left behind.

I picked it up and looked.

Two dozen unread messages popped up on the screen, all from Kitty. The newest was a voice clip. I played it.

"Derek, I was the one who let you down back then. I never should have left the country. I regret it. I really do. You still care about me, don't you? Otherwise you wouldn't have bought back the estate."

The clip ended, and another message followed right after, this one text.

"Didn't you say the one thing you regretted most in your life was not holding on to me? I'm back now. Can you... give me one more chance?"

I set the phone down.

The thing he regretted most.

The day we got married, when we drank the toast, he'd smiled and said, "I have no regrets left in this life."

So that hadn't been true.

The doorbell rang.

I walked over and opened it. A woman stood outside. White dress, long hair, eyes rimmed red.

Kitty Simmons.

She saw me and froze for a second, then forced a smile. "Ruby, is Derek home?"

"He's not here."

"He promised to come help me look at the house today. I waited forever, and he won't pick up his phone." She craned her neck to peer inside. "Can I come in and wait for him?"

I stepped aside.

As she came in, her eyes swept over the entryway. Derek's shoes, his coat, his car keys—all there.

"Derek didn't go out today?"

"He did."

"But his keys are still here."

I didn't answer. I watched her settle onto the couch. She sat in the exact spot Derek had sat in last night.

Kitty seemed to sense something. She lowered her head, fidgeting with her fingers. "Ruby, don't get the wrong idea. There's really nothing between me and Derek. He's just helping me deal with the old estate."

"I know."

"It's just that—I only just got back, and I don't know my way around anything. He's the only one I can ask."

"Mm."

She lifted her head and looked at me, something I couldn't quite name in her eyes. "Derek's such a good person. If only I'd never left."

She said it lightly, but I understood her.

She was telling me that if she'd never gone abroad, I wouldn't be the one standing in this home.

I let it pass. The door opened in the entryway, and Derek came in. He saw Kitty sitting on the couch and froze in the doorway.

Kitty stood, her eyes going red again. "Derek."

Derek glanced at me, then at her. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't show, so I came myself." Her voice was thick with tears. "I wanted to see the renovation blueprints for the old estate. You said you'd show me today."

Derek pulled a document folder out of his bag and held it out. "The blueprints are here. Take them home and look them over."

Kitty took them, but didn't go. She stood there, looking at me, then at Derek, and bit her lip. "You two had a fight, didn't you? Because of me?"

Before Derek could say anything, I spoke first. "No. We never fight."

It was the truth. Three years, and we'd never so much as raised our voices. I used to think that proved how good we were together. Only now did I understand—it was because he simply didn't care.

After Kitty left, the living room was frighteningly quiet.

Derek stood there, hands in his pockets, not moving for a long while.

In the end, I was the one who spoke first. "You left your other phone at home. Kitty sent some messages. I saw them by accident."

His fingers twitched. He said nothing.

"Why did the two of you break up back then?"

A long silence.

"Her family wouldn't allow it. They sent her abroad."

"Did she leave you any word?"

"She did." Derek's voice was low. "She told me to wait for her."

"You didn't wait."

"I did. I waited two years. She never came back."

So then you found me.

I didn't say it out loud.

Derek lifted his head and looked at me. "Ruby, what was between her and me is over. I'll make it clear to her. I won't contact her again."

I looked into his eyes. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Then tell me—when you bought back the old estate, were you thinking of helping her, or were you keeping something of her for yourself?"

Derek opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

I had my answer.

"Let's get divorced."

Derek stood frozen.

"What did you say?"

"Divorce."

He stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly let out a short laugh. "You're joking with me?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

Derek set down what he was holding and crossed to stand in front of me. "Over Kitty?"

"Not because of her." I raised my eyes to his. "Because of you."