The bike's kickstand sliced a bloody line down my shin, and I hit the ground shaking from the pain.

A girl got out of her car, called the police for me, and dialed 911.

While we waited, her phone kept ringing. The street was loud, so she put it on speaker, and I caught most of it.

She hadn't shown up on time. She'd held up work. Her boss and the client were both furious.

I felt terrible and told her to go ahead and leave.

She just smiled at me.

“It's fine. I can deal with it. Right now, you're what matters.”

She stayed the whole time, kept me calm, and only left after the paramedics arrived.

In the five minutes after I called Jude, everything came flooding back at once.

Three months ago, I'd been dying to have seasonal crab. Jude said he didn't like food with shells. He told me to go with Frieda, and he'd pick up the tab.

Yet today, he'd gone out for crab with Ethel.

He couldn't stand having his plans disrupted, so I'd gone to my wedding dress fitting alone.

But he'd promised to take me. Then one phone call from Ethel, and he left me standing there.

And the charger.

Once, I'd only tried using it, and he gave me the silent treatment for a week.

Now Ethel was plugging her little fan into it.

I kept thinking about that girl's eyes when she said, “Right now, you're what matters.”

When the police came, she volunteered her contact information and said she was willing to be a witness.

Before she left, she took off her jacket and draped it over my legs.

I lay in the ambulance with my wound throbbing while the paramedics took my blood pressure, stopped the bleeding, asked about my medical history. Every single one of them was gentle.

For ten years, I'd been waiting for Jude to break one of his rules for me.

Waiting for him to make an exception just once. To pick up my call in the middle of something. To rearrange his schedule for me. To put me, firmly and unmistakably, at the very top of his priorities.

I'd obeyed his rules, accommodated his moods, loved him carefully for ten years.

And right now, the only person willing to put me first, to ache over whether I was hurting, to choose me above everything else—was a stranger I'd never met before.

That was when I understood. He didn't love me.

And I shouldn't keep begging to be loved.

Lying in my hospital bed, I drafted a message in the family group chat with both our parents, deleted and retyped it over and over, and finally hit send.

I'd barely closed my eyes before the wound got infected and my fever spiked to nearly 104.

Frieda stayed by my side, running back and forth, and my temperature didn't come down until the middle of the night.

Looking at how worn she already was from a project at work, I hired a caretaker and told her to go home and rest.

Early the next morning, the sound of muffled crying woke me.

I opened my eyes, groggy, my whole body aching and weak.

Through blurred vision I could see Glenda Lawrence standing in the doorway of my room, wiping her tears. She was staring at Jude, her face a mix of disappointment and fury, the look of a mother who wanted to shake sense into her son.

“Jude, how can you be this clueless?”

“Marina's hurt this badly, and you still had the nerve to go take care of your secretary?!”

“Tell me the truth. Did you actually do something to betray her?”

“She's been with you for ten years. I know her temperament inside and out. If she weren't truly done with you, she would never have brought up breaking up at a time like this!”

Jude frowned.

“Mom, you don't know the situation. Yesterday, I couldn't just leave Ethel there……”

Glenda was trembling with anger, her voice rising sharply.

“But you could leave Marina? Jude, you're exactly like your father!”

The words landed. Glenda turned, caught my gaze, and immediately gathered a smile as she walked quickly into the room.

When she saw the bandages on my leg, her eyes went red again.

“Marina, I'm the one who should be sorry. I didn't raise that boy right, and you're the one who suffered for it.”

“We can't keep the betrothal money you returned. Could you give Jude one more chance?”

I was still processing her words when my phone screen lit up. A voice message from my dad.

The room was too quiet to play it out loud with Glenda sitting right there, so I converted it to text.

Every line was pure warmth and steady resolve.

Last night, the moment I'd posted the breakup announcement in the family group chat, he'd wired every cent of the betrothal money back to the Lyons family.

He said he would always respect whatever I decided. That he would always be my strongest support. That no matter what happened, home would always be there for me to come back to.

Something warm spread through my chest. I looked up at Glenda, and my voice was firm.

“Mrs. Lawrence, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“I just wasn't meant to marry into your family.”

“If my mom were still here, she'd have made the same decision my dad did.”

At the mention of my mother, Glenda went still for a moment.

They'd been friends since they were girls.

Work had scattered them across the country for years, but by some twist of fate they'd both ended up married in the same city, picking their friendship right back up.

My freshman year of high school, Jude's father had an affair.

Glenda came to my mother in tears and asked her to help catch him in the act.

There was a struggle. In the chaos, Jude's father stabbed my mother. Her kidney ruptured.

She survived the surgery, but she was never the same.

She died the year before I graduated college.

Glenda had carried the guilt ever since. She treated me like her own daughter.

When she found out Jude and I were together, she took my side every single time, right or wrong.

Finally, she let out a long sigh, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Marina, I won't push you.”

“But the betrothal money—you have to keep it. Consider it a dowry from me.”

“I just hope your mother doesn't blame me.”

She pressed the bank card into my hand.

“Get some rest.”

She turned and walked out of the room, shooting Jude a hard glare on her way past him.

The second Glenda was gone, Jude came in. He saw the bank card in my hand, assumed I'd given in, and let out a deep sigh.

“What happened yesterday was my fault. I won't ignore your calls again.”

“Once you're discharged, we'll get the wedding photos taken and lock down the venue.”

“Your dad and my mom are getting older. They can't handle this kind of drama.”

He reached for my hand as he spoke, then his gaze snagged on my bare ring finger.

“Where's the ring? Marina?”

I looked down. A pale white band of skin circled the spot where it used to be.

“I threw it away.”

His hand froze in midair. His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Marina, what do I have to do to make you happy?”

I looked up at him.

“Fire Ethel Henson.”

“No.”

Almost instant.

“Why not?”

“She's less competent than every single person you've fired before her.”

I held his gaze and stated it plainly.

Something flickered across his face. His voice tightened with irritation.

“Marina, you're thirty years old. Can you stop acting like some jealous little girl?”

“We've been together ten years. Lived together for six. Every person we know expects us to get married. And you pick now to blow this up?”

“If you walk away now, how is that any different from being divorced?”

Even though I'd already made up my mind, his words still landed like a fist against something soft inside me.

I couldn't believe the boy who'd blushed to the tips of his ears the day I said yes was the same person standing here now, red-faced with spite.

“Mr. Lyons, please don't fight with Miss Sullivan because of me.”

“She's right, my skills really aren't up to par. I've already submitted my resignation. Please approve it when you can.”

Ethel walked into the room with reddened eyes, and the moment she finished speaking, the tears spilled over, her cheeks flushing again. Her gaze drifted to me.

“Miss Sullivan, I truly never meant to come between you and Mr. Lyons.”

I tugged at the corner of my mouth.

“You already have.”

Then I took the bank card Mrs. Lawrence had left and shoved it into her hand.

“This is the betrothal money from your Mr. Lyons's mother. It's yours now.”

Ethel froze, her eyes shifting uneasily to Jude.

His expression went completely dark, his voice thick with anger.

“Marina. Don't regret this.”

He grabbed Ethel's wrist and walked out without looking back.

He was almost at the door when I called after him.

“Jude.”

His steps faltered, but his hand was still holding Ethel's.

“You have ten hours to move out of my apartment.”

The next morning, the police called to say they'd found the hit-and-run driver.

I wasn't good at dealing with that kind of thing, so I hired a lawyer to handle all of it.

Frieda came to pick me up from the hospital. When she heard what had happened between me and Jude, she insisted I stay at her place.

I gave her a reassuring smile and asked her to take me home instead.

She looked at me with that pained expression, but finally gave in.

I punched in the door code. In the entryway sat a pair of men's leather shoes.

I pulled out my phone to call Jude, but before I could, messages started coming in from mutual friends.

【Marina! Heard you and Jude are having the wedding next Tuesday? Congrats! Ten years and you're finally making it official. I'll definitely be there!】

【Congratulations! That guy Jude really lucked out.】

I stared at my phone, not understanding.

A wedding? Next week?

While I was still trying to make sense of it, Ethel came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of instant noodles topped with a fried egg and meatballs.

“Miss Sullivan, you're back?”

She flinched at the sight of me, and her hand shook. Half the broth splashed onto her hand. The rest hit the rug.

Jude heard the commotion and came striding out of the bedroom. He took her hand and led her to the kitchen, running cold water over the burn.

He didn't look at the rug once.

He'd had that rug brought back from overseas last year.

I was never allowed to sit on it and eat snacks, or drink coffee near it, or even step on it barefoot.

Now it was ruined.

And all he could see was Ethel's hand.

Frieda's eyes went red with fury. She started toward the kitchen to give them a piece of her mind, but I shook my head, signaling that I could handle it, and asked her to leave.

Two minutes later, they came out of the kitchen.

I was leaning against the couch, watching Ethel.

“Who told you you could come into my home?”

Ethel flinched, shrinking back instinctively, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I'm sorry, my blood sugar dropped and Mr. Lyons told me to come up and eat something. I didn't mean to……”

My gaze dropped to the knitted slippers on her feet, and my eyes went cold.

She followed my line of sight and rushed to explain.

“Mr. Lyons gave me these slippers. I said disposable ones would be fine, but he said the floor was cold and told me to wear these……”

Jude stepped forward, putting himself between us.

“They're just slippers. Why are you scaring her?”

My throat tightened. I let out a cold laugh, my voice rising.

“Just slippers?”

“Jude, my mother knitted those for me!”

“When she was dying, what did you promise her?”

My chest heaved and my eyes brimmed with tears.

No response. His eyes met mine, perfectly calm. Like still water.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth in a bitter half-smile, forced the breakdown back down, and pointed at the door.

“Get out. My mother bought me this apartment.”

“Or I'm calling the police.”

Jude didn't flinch. He pulled out a property purchase agreement and tossed it on the table.

“Ethel likes this place. I'll pay three times market value. It'll be our marital home.”

I froze where I stood, barely trusting my own ears.

It took a long time before the meaning of the message I'd just received caught up to this moment.

When I didn't speak, Jude's tone stayed flat.

“If you don't want to sell, that's fine.”

“I'll buy the unit across the hall and renovate it to match.”

My phone buzzed. A message from William Dickerson, one of Jude's boys.

【Marina, don't listen to Jude's nonsense. The whole wedding thing with that secretary is just a power play to make you cave. Don't take it seriously!】

【Besides, you two have been together ten years. You're obviously not going to leave him. Just stop fighting.】

I stared at my phone. The absurdity of it was almost funny.

Then I signed my name on the contract.

I packed some of my clothes without hurrying, booked a moving company through my phone to handle the rest, and dragged my suitcase out the door.

Over the next two days, mutual friends kept dropping wedding details into my messages, some subtle, some not.

I muted every single one and blocked their social media.

Tuesday morning, Frieda drove me to the airport and pulled me into a hug.

“When you make it big, you better fly me out.”

I smiled and nodded.

Before boarding, I took out my phone and sent Jude one last message.

【Congratulations on your wedding. Consider the last ten years my gift.】