The day I went to try on wedding dresses, I used Barret Henson's phone to order milk tea. The default delivery address that popped up was for an upscale apartment complex I'd never seen before.

It was the address of his college first love, who had just returned to the country.

His order history was filled with meals he'd sent her—breakfast, lunch, dinner—and late-night stomach medicine.

She'd been back for a hundred days. He'd ordered delivery for her on ninety-nine of them.

Meanwhile, when my gastritis flared up so badly I was shaking from the pain, all he ever told me was to drink more warm water.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror—white wedding gown, picture-perfect bride—and slowly pulled down the zipper.

"The dress doesn't fit," I said calmly. "The wedding's off."

"Maggie Sullivan, it's just ordering food for a friend. Are you seriously making a big deal out of this?"

Barret deleted the address from his phone, his expression cold.

"There. It's gone. Happy now? Are you done throwing a fit?"

I slipped the diamond ring off my finger and set it on the table. "I'm done. I wish you two a lifetime of happiness."

——

I pushed open the door of the bridal shop and walked out.

Barret chased after me and grabbed my wrist.

He pressed a credit card into my hand.

"Go buy that handbag you've been eyeing."

"Isn't that what women always say? A new bag cures everything? There—feel better now?"

His voice dripped with exasperation, like he was dealing with a child mid-tantrum.

He was certain this was just me throwing a fit, trying to force him to coax me back.

I shook his hand off.

And tossed the card straight into the trash.

Barret's face darkened.

"Maggie, enough!" he snapped. "There's a limit to how far you can push this!"

"Queenie just got back from overseas. She doesn't know how anything works here yet."

"So I ordered her a few meals—so what?"

"Back in college, I used to get her food from the dining hall every single day. You already knew that!"

A sharp sting pierced through my chest.

He was right. All four years of college, he'd brought Queenie Fox her meals every single day.

Even in a blizzard, he'd trudge through the snow with her favorite sweet-and-sour ribs tucked inside his coat, all the way to the girls' dormitory.

And me?

I'd cooked for Barret for four years.

After graduation, we started a company together. To make sure he ate well, I spent every day coming up with new soups and packed lunches for him, rotating the menu so he'd never get bored.

He remembered that Queenie couldn't handle spicy food and preferred everything on the sweeter side.

But in four years of eating my cooking, he could never once remember that I didn't like scallions.

Four years together. What had any of it meant to him?

Right then, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and picked up immediately.

Queenie's voice came through, thick with tears.

"Barret, my stomach really hurts... I'm in the ER getting an IV."

"I'm all alone and I'm so scared. Everyone around me is a stranger. Could you come see me?"

"Am I interrupting your dress fitting with Maggie? If you're busy, I can tough it out on my own..."

Barret didn't hesitate for even half a second.

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

He hung up and turned to face me.

He walked to the curb, flagged down a cab, and pulled open the door.

"Go home and think about what you've done. Stop blowing things out of proportion."

Then he leaned toward the driver. "Take it easy on the road, please. My girlfriend gets carsick."

How laughable.

He was rushing off to be with another woman, and he still couldn't resist playing the role of the thoughtful boyfriend.

He slammed the cab door shut and headed for the parking garage to drive to Queenie himself.

I watched the streets slide past the window in reverse. My heart was strangely calm.

When I got home, I walked straight into the bedroom and pulled out my suitcase.

Everything that was mine, I was taking. I wouldn't leave a single thing behind.

The doorbell rang.

The building's concierge stood outside, holding a garment bag.

"Ms. Sullivan, this is a same-day delivery for Mr. Henson. It just arrived."

I took the package and opened it.

Inside was one of Barret's custom-tailored suits.

And a note that reeked of perfume.

"I had no idea you kept the clothes I gave you all this time. Thanks for spending the night with me the other day. You're so sweet."

The other day was my birthday.

I'd turned down Marcella Walker and the rest of my girlfriends for a night out. I'd bought all of Barret's favorite dishes and cooked an entire spread at home.

I waited for the birthday surprise he'd promised me.

Instead, I waited until midnight and got nothing but a phone call.

He said there was an emergency at the company. He wouldn't be back until the next day.

He swore up and down on the phone, apologizing, promising he'd make it up to me.

I believed him.

I even felt sorry for him, pulling an all-nighter at the office.

Turns out his "emergency" was spending the night with his college ex.

I looked up at the photo on the wall.

We'd taken it at the beach after we earned our first real profit from the company. In the picture, Barret was cupping my face in his hands, smiling at me like I was the only person in the world.

Tears slipped down from the corners of my eyes and splattered onto the back of my hand before I could stop them.

I ripped the photo off the wall.

The photo, the suit, the note. I shoved all of it into the trash.

The front door beeped with the sound of the keypad unlocking.

Barret walked in, propping up a pale-faced Queenie at his side.

The moment they stepped into the living room, they saw the mess on the floor and my packed suitcase.

"Maggie, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Barret let go of Queenie and strode toward me.

"Queenie just got back to the country. Her stomach condition flared up and she had no family around. I went to the hospital to look after her. What's the problem?"

"What, I'm not allowed to have a female friend after we get married?"

He pointed at me, his voice dripping with impatience.

"Your need to control everything is insane! You're completely unreasonable!"

Queenie tugged at his sleeve, her eyes rimmed red, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Barret, this is all my fault."

"Please don't fight because of me."

She turned to look at me, her voice small and wounded.

"Maggie, don't be angry with Barret. He runs the whole company every day. The pressure is enormous."

"If you love him, can't you be a little more understanding?"

"He didn't even eat a proper meal because he was taking care of me. It's all my fault."

"Why don't you go make him a bowl of noodles?"

As she spoke, she stumbled on purpose, letting her body fall against Barret.

"I'll leave right now. I'll never bother you two again."

"If you're upset, take it out on me. Yell at me, hit me, I don't care."

But for all her talk of leaving, she stayed pressed against Barret's chest, clinging to him like her life depended on it.

Barret looked at me with disappointment.

"Look at yourself. You don't have half the grace Queenie has!"

I looked at the two of them standing there together, grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and headed for the door.

"She's all yours."

Barret blocked the doorway in one step, a vein throbbing at his temple.

"Maggie! There's a limit to how childish you can be!"

"Are you done throwing your tantrum?"

"If you walk out that door today, don't ever think about coming back. You'll regret it!"

I looked at that familiar face of his.

"I won't."

I shoved past his shoulder and walked into the elevator without looking back.

Outside the building, Marcella's car was already parked at the curb.

She helped me stuff my luggage into the trunk.

The whole drive, she was so furious she kept smacking the steering wheel on my behalf.

"You had an offer from a top investment bank right out of college."

"For that loser Barret Henson, you stayed behind. You ate instant noodles with him for months, slept in a basement, and helped him build his company from nothing."

"You were so stupid!!"

I stared out the car window at the neon lights streaking past.

Yeah. I was a fool.

But who could say no to the boy she'd secretly loved for four years, the one who carried her out of a burning building on his back and then confessed his feelings right there in her hospital room?

I'd been naive enough to believe that everything we'd been through together could conquer anything.

I forgot that shared history could never compete with the one who got away—the girl a man kept on a pedestal in his heart.

And if I couldn't compete, then I was done trying.

That night, I slept like a rock in Marcella's guest room.

The next morning, I went to work as usual.

Love was gone, but the career I'd built with my own two hands? That was something I refused to lose.

I'd barely sat down when the internal line rang, summoning me to a meeting in the CEO's office.

I pushed open the conference room door.

Queenie was sitting in my seat—the vice president's chair.

She looked at me and smiled. A slow, deliberate smile.

Barret slid a thick stack of documents across the table toward her.

That was my core project proposal. Three months of late nights. Countless cups of black coffee. Every ounce of strategy I had.

"Queenie is officially joining the company starting today. She'll need to establish herself here with real results." Barret looked at me, his tone leaving no room for discussion. "This project will be handed over to her. She'll have full authority going forward."

I stared at him.

"Say that again."

Queenie blinked innocently, her voice soft and timid. "Maggie, Barret's always praising your work ethic in front of me."

"Like a workhorse, he says. Never asking for anything in return, just quietly grinding away."

"You're so talented—handing this one little project over to me and starting a new one should be a breeze for you, right?"

I walked forward and slammed my palm down on the conference table.

"I'm not handing over anything."

"I spent six months courting those investors. I threw up five times from stress lunches and dinners just to close that deal. And you want to hand it to her on a silver platter?"

Barret's expression darkened. "Maggie, don't bring your personal feelings into the workplace."

"Transfer all data access to Queenie immediately. This is the company's decision."

A cold laugh escaped me. "The company's decision? Half of this company was built on my blood and sweat."

Barret's voice dripped with contempt. "Don't you think a little too highly of yourself?"

"Without my name out there holding things down, you think you—you—could've brought in a single dollar of investment?"

One sentence. That was all it took to erase every year I'd given him.

I looked at this man, and whatever was left inside me went cold.

"Fine. Since you're so incredible."

I unclipped the ID badge from my chest and tossed it onto the table.

"I quit."

Barret let out a scornful laugh and approved it on the spot. "Done. Go file your paperwork." He leaned back. "I'd love to see where you end up without this company."

He was certain I was bluffing—using my career as a bargaining chip. Certain I'd never actually walk away.

After the meeting ended, I went to the break room to get some water.

Queenie followed me in and shut the door behind her.

The fragile act she'd worn in the conference room vanished. Her face was pure satisfaction.

"Maggie, you can't win against me."

"You know what Barret did after you left last night?"

"He got up at three in the morning to make me porridge. Fed it to me spoonful by spoonful."

"He said you're nothing but a money-grubbing shrew. Not a feminine bone in your body."

"He said just touching you made his skin crawl."

I filled a cup with cold water.

Turned around and threw it straight into Queenie's perfectly made-up face.

"Ahhh—!"

She shrieked, clutching her face as she crumpled to the floor.

The door burst open.

Barret rushed in and pulled Queenie behind him in one motion.

He yanked out tissues and dabbed at her face, his expression twisted with concern.