I stepped aside.

He came in, and his eyes swept the entryway. Julia's shoes, her coat, her car keys—all there.

"Julie didn't go out today?"

"She did."

"But her keys are still here."

I didn't answer. I watched him sit down on the couch. He took the exact spot where Julia had sat the night before.

Oliver seemed to sense something. He lowered his head and fidgeted with his fingers. "Theo, please don't get the wrong idea. There's really nothing between Julie and me. She's just helping me with the old house."

"I know."

"It's just… I only got back, and I don't know my way around anything. She's the only one I could ask for help."

"Mm."

He raised his head and looked at me, an expression I couldn't quite name in his eyes. "Julie's such a good person. If only I'd never left back then."

He said it lightly, almost in passing, but I understood it.

He was telling me that if he hadn't gone abroad, I wouldn't be the one standing in this home now.

I didn't respond. The door opened in the entryway, and Julia came in. She saw Oliver sitting on the couch and froze in the doorway.

Oliver stood up, his eyes rimming red again. "Julie."

Julia glanced at me, then looked at him. "Why are you here?"

"I couldn't reach you, so I came over myself." His voice was thick with congestion. "I wanted to see the renovation blueprints for the old house. You said you'd show me today."

Julia pulled a file folder from her bag and held it out. "The blueprints are here. Take them with you."

Oliver took them, but he didn't leave. He stood there, looking at me, then at Julia, and bit his lip. "Did the two of you fight? Because of me?"

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

It was the truth. Three years, and we'd never even raised our voices. I used to think that proved how good we were together. Now I knew it was only because she'd never cared enough to.

After Oliver left, the living room was unbearably quiet.

Julia stood there, arms folded over her chest, not moving for a long time.

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

His fingers twitched. She said nothing.

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

A long silence.

"His family wouldn't allow it. They sent him abroad."

"Did he leave you any word?"

"He did." Julia's voice was low. "He told me to wait for him."

"You didn't wait."

"I waited. Two years. He didn't come back."

So you settled for me.

I didn't say it out loud.

Julia raised her head and looked at me. "Theodore, what happened with him is over. I'll make it clear to him. I won't be in contact again."

I looked into her eyes. "Have you really thought this through?"

"I have."

"Then tell me—when you bought the old house, were you thinking of helping him, or of keeping something to hold on to?"

Julia opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

I had my answer.

"Let's get a divorce."

Julia stood frozen.

"What did you say?"

"Divorce."

She stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly let out a small laugh. "Are you joking with me?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

Julia set down what she was holding and walked up to me. "Just because of Oliver?"

"It's not because of him." I lifted my head and looked at her. "It's because of you."

"What about me?"

"You haven't let him go."

Julia frowned. "I said I'd make it clear to him—"

"You said." I cut her off. "You said it last night too, and you're still saying it this morning. But you sit up half the night waiting for his messages, you drive off at dawn to find him, and you've got the transfer record for the old house saved in your phone, labeled Oliver's House. Julia, how am I supposed to believe you?"

Her jaw tightened.

"I'll handle it."

"Handle what?" I looked at her. "Handle him, or handle me?"

Julia said nothing.

I turned and walked into the bedroom, pulled open the closet, and took out a suitcase. Three years of marriage, and I didn't have much. A few clothes, some everyday things. Not enough to fill one case.

Julia followed me in and watched me pack.

"Where are you going?"

"My mother's place, for now."

"Theo, don't do something rash."

I ignored her and zipped the suitcase shut. She put her hand down on it. "Let's talk this through."

"Talk about what?"

"About us."

"There's nothing complicated about us." I looked at her. "You don't love me. You love Oliver. You married me because he hadn't come back. Now he's back. I'm stepping aside. Happy?"

Her hand pressed flat on the case, the knuckles white.

"There's really nothing between him and me."

"Then do you have the nerve to tell him to my face that you feel nothing for me?"

She didn't move.

I waited ten seconds, twenty, half a minute.

"You don't, do you?" I pulled her hand off. "Then don't get in my way."

I carried the case to the door. Julia caught up and blocked it.

"Theo, listen to me—"

"Move."

"No. You can't leave today."

I looked up at her. Her eyes had gone red, her voice a little hoarse. "I know I was wrong, but you can't just walk out like this. Three years of marriage, and you call it off, just like that?"

"Three years of marriage, three years of you carrying someone else in your heart, and did I say a word?"

Julia opened her mouth and nothing came out.

I pushed past her and pulled the door open.

Oliver was standing outside.

He still had that folder in his hands. He hadn't left at all.

He looked at the case in my hand, then at Julia behind me, and put on a worried face. "Theo, where are you going?"

I didn't answer him and dragged the case out.

Oliver turned to Julia. "Julie, what's wrong with you two? Is it because of me—"

"It's none of your business," Julia said.

But her eyes had already given her away.

I saw it clear as day. When she looked at Oliver, there was a light in her eyes. A light that had never once been there when she looked at me.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped in.

Julia rushed over and, in the last second before the doors closed, threw out her hand to stop them. "Theo, give me three days. I'll get everything sorted out."

"No need."