His answer was curt. He walked straight to the bathroom without another word.

I stared at his retreating back, and something bitter twisted in my chest.

This was a man with severe mysophobia. There was a time when a slightly stronger scent from my aromatherapy diffuser was enough to make him frown.

Now, he could tolerate another woman's perfume and cigarette smoke clinging to him for hours.

So it was never about principles being unbreakable.

Late that night, he wrapped his arms around me from behind.

A familiar touch. Yet it felt like a stranger's.

His hand slid over my lower abdomen, his breath warm against the shell of my ear.

Everything was the same as it had always been.

But I knew something between us had changed.

I gently pushed him away.

"I'm not feeling well today."

He paused for a moment, then rolled over and lay flat on his back. Within minutes, his breathing evened out into the steady rhythm of sleep.

In the darkness, I lay with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

So this was what we'd become. Too fragile for even a single follow-up question.

The lid of that thermos had been scalding hot.

The photo in Raymond's album burned hotter.

Hot enough to twist my entire heart into a knot, so tight I couldn't breathe.

The next morning, Raymond got up early.

I lay in bed pretending to sleep, listening to him wash up, change, and leave. He didn't make a single unnecessary sound. He didn't try to wake me.

There was a transparent wall between us. We could both see through it, but neither of us wanted to touch it.

When I finally got up, breakfast was waiting on the dining table. A sandwich. A glass of milk. Every calorie accounted for.

Everything he did for me was meticulous, planned down to the last detail.

Today was our engagement anniversary.

We'd made plans to visit the equestrian club on the outskirts of the city, the place where we'd had our very first date.

I arrived early and waited in the lounge.

"Miss Pruitt, Mr. James didn't come with you today?"

"Something came up at the office. He'll be here a little later."

I smiled as I said it.

I waited through the morning and into the afternoon.

I sent him a few messages. None of them got a reply. I called. No answer.

The sun sank lower in the sky. I sat on a bench, watching distant riders gallop across the fields, and felt nothing inside but emptiness.

I decided to stop waiting.

The moment I stood up, my phone rang.

It was Raymond.

"Sorry. An emergency meeting came up at the office. I couldn't get away."

His voice carried no trace of emotion.

"It's fine. Work comes first."

My own voice was so calm it surprised even me.

"I had my assistant drop your anniversary gift off at the house. I'll try to get home early tonight."

"Okay."

After I hung up, I didn't go home.

Instead, I rented the gentlest horse at the club and wandered aimlessly across the grass.

I remembered the first time we came here.

He'd stood behind me, his hands over mine, teaching me how to hold the reins, how to guide the horse.

He'd said, "Don't be afraid. I'm right here."

That was the first time I ever felt safe with him.

Now, that sense of safety was slipping away, piece by piece.

When I got home, a beautifully wrapped gift box sat in the living room, just as promised.

I opened it. A diamond necklace.

Expensive. But the same design as the one he'd given me last year.

He didn't even remember what he'd already given me.

I placed the necklace back in the box and turned on the TV, flipping to some random variety show.

On the enormous screen, celebrities mugged and joked. I couldn't muster even the ghost of a smile.

At ten o'clock, Raymond came home and went straight to his study.

I turned off the TV, walked upstairs, and pushed open the study door.

He looked up when he heard the door open.

"Did you get the gift?"

"I did. Thank you."

"Do you like it?"

"I do."

I walked over and wrapped my arms around his neck from behind.

"Raymond, can we go skiing in Aspen next month? You promised me."

I buried my face in the curve of his neck, searching for something familiar.

His body went rigid.

"There's an overseas acquisition next month. I probably won't have time."

He pulled my hands away, swiveled his chair, and faced me.

"Let's talk about it after things settle down."

There it was again.

Always wait and we'll see.

"Is it because of Darlene?"

The words finally left my mouth.

His gaze turned cold.

"Stacy, we agreed from the beginning. No questions about the past."

"But she's your present now, isn't she?"

He didn't answer. He just looked at me in silence.

That was when his phone lit up.

A message preview flashed across the screen.

The contact was saved as "D."

Just got home. Tonight was wonderful. Thank you.

He snatched the phone up and deleted the message.

Raymond and I started because he needed a fiancée from a family that matched his own standing.

And I had no objections to the arrangement. I was even a little happy about it.

Eventually, we did fall in love. We built a life together.

I had always known that somewhere in his past, there was a woman named Darlene Simmons.

I told myself that if I was good enough, accommodating enough, one day I'd earn my way into that place in his heart.

Now I could see it for what it was. I'd only been fooling myself.

I went to see Uncle Walter.

Walter Dickerson was an old friend of my father's and a well-regarded antique restorer. Ever since I was a little girl, I loved spending time in his workshop, watching him piece shattered porcelain back together fragment by fragment.

That kind of focus, that patience, always had a way of quieting my restless mind.

When I arrived, Uncle Walter was working on a blue-and-white ceramic vase. He set down his tools when he saw me and poured me a cup of tea.

"Sweetheart, you don't look so good. Did you and Raymond have a fight?"

I shook my head. I cupped the warm mug in both hands, but I couldn't feel the heat.

"Uncle Walter, do you think something that's been broken can ever really be whole again?"

He glanced at the vase in front of him and smiled faintly.

"No matter how good the restoration, the cracks are still there. Same as the human heart. Once it's been hurt, it's been hurt."

He studied me, a quiet knowing in his eyes.

"You've always carried too much on your shoulders, even as a kid. I worried about you the day you told me you were with Raymond."

"Raymond is a man of principle. He honors his commitments."

"But principles are only as strong as who they're for. A man who breaks his rules for one woman can break them again for another."

His words struck me like a blow to the chest.

He was right. Raymond tolerated the smell of cigarettes for Darlene.

So what had he ever bent for me?

Nothing. The answer was nothing.

I left Uncle Walter's workshop feeling more unsettled than when I'd arrived.

My phone rang.

An unknown number.

I hesitated, then answered.

"Miss Pruitt? I'm calling from the executive office at Grandeur Group. Ms. Simmons would like to arrange a meeting with you."

Darlene?

The meeting place was a teahouse.

She wore a sharp, tailored suit, her makeup flawless, every gesture radiating confidence.

"Miss Pruitt, forgive the intrusion."

She spoke first. Her voice was lovely.

"I know about your relationship with Raymond. I didn't ask you here today with any ulterior motive. I just wanted to talk."

"About what?"

She smiled, though the expression carried a hint of resignation.

"When I went abroad, I had no choice. You must have heard something about the history between our families."

"Raymond has been fighting for me all this time. He wants to build enough power to bring me back openly, without anyone standing in his way."

She paused, holding my gaze.

"I know you're a good woman."

"But he doesn't love you. In his heart, from the very beginning, there's only ever been one person. Me."

"Miss Pruitt, I'm not here to flaunt anything. I just think you deserve to know the truth."

"Raymond is going to come clean to his family soon. When that happens, you might get hurt. I want you to be prepared."

"I asked you here today as a friend, to give you a heads-up."

A friend?

What a joke.

I stood and picked up my bag.

"I appreciate the concern, Ms. Simmons. But what happens between Raymond and me is really none of your business."

I turned and walked out without looking back.

The moment I stepped out of the tea house, a wave of fear crashed over me.

Fear that everything Darlene had said was true.

Fear that everything I'd been holding on to was nothing but a fool's dream.

Fear that Raymond really would cast me aside for her without a second thought.

The next day, I went to Raymond's company without telling him.

I wanted to surprise him.

The receptionist stopped me with a polite smile.

"I'm sorry, Miss Pruitt. Mr. James is in an important meeting. He gave strict instructions not to be disturbed."

Another meeting.

He always seemed to have an endless string of them.

I didn't make things difficult for her. I sat down on the couch in the lobby and waited.

Nearly an hour passed.

The conference room doors finally opened.

Raymond walked out first, trailed by a group of senior executives. He listened intently to the report from the man beside him as they moved down the hall.

Then he spotted me. His stride faltered.

A slight frown creased his brow.

"What are you doing here?"

No surprise in his voice. Only irritation.

"I brought you lunch."

I held up the container with a small wave.

Before he could respond, a lilting voice drifted from behind him.

"Raymond, aren't you going to introduce us?"

Darlene emerged from the group and took her place at Raymond's side.

She wore a red dress today, vivid and striking.

Around her neck hung a sapphire necklace.

I recognized it instantly.

At last month's charity gala, Raymond had bid eight hundred thousand dollars on it.

When I'd asked who it was for, he'd said it was for a client.

Now I knew exactly which client he'd meant.

Every pair of eyes in the lobby locked onto the three of us.

The air turned thick with tension.

Raymond's expression darkened.

He glanced at me, his voice cold and clipped.

"This is my fiancée, Stacy Pruitt."

Then he turned to Darlene, and his tone softened noticeably.

"This is the partner on our new project, Ms. Simmons."

One of us was his fiancée.

The other was Ms. Simmons.

The difference in warmth was impossible to miss.

Darlene extended her hand toward me, her smile the picture of innocence.

"Miss Pruitt, it's so nice to meet you. Raymond has mentioned you before. I'm glad I finally get to put a face to the name."

Her mouth said mentioned. Her eyes said challenge.

I didn't take her hand. I simply looked at her, my expression perfectly still.

"You're too kind, Ms. Simmons."

Raymond seemed to find my attitude rude. He tugged my arm lightly.

"Alright, I have things to handle. Head home."

He took the lunch box from my hands and passed it to his assistant.

"Get rid of this."

Get rid of this.

I'd spent the entire morning carefully preparing that meal. In his eyes, it was just something to be disposed of.

My heart sank, inch by inch.

"Raymond."

Darlene's voice cut through the silence as she looped her arm through his.

"Let's grab lunch together. We can go over the partnership details."

Raymond didn't refuse.

He didn't even glance back at me before walking toward the elevator with Darlene and his entourage of executives, their footsteps echoing across the marble floor.

I stood there. Alone. Left behind like I was nothing.

The lobby buzzed with people coming and going, and every passing glance made my skin crawl with humiliation.

I'd believed that if I tried hard enough, if I was good enough, I could win his heart.

But now I understood. When someone didn't love you, nothing you did mattered. Everything was weightless. Invisible.

The car merged onto the main road and stopped at a red light.

Through the window of a restaurant on the corner, I saw Raymond. He was cutting a steak, head bowed in concentration. When he finished, he slid the plate over to Darlene with an easy, familiar gesture.

So he wasn't skipping lunch. He just didn't want the one I'd made.

In that moment, the image of myself bustling around the kitchen all morning struck me as pathetically stupid.

I didn't cry. What I felt wasn't sadness. It was shame.

Shame for three years of pouring my heart into something that had never existed.

The light turned green. I pulled my gaze away, calm and steady.

"Drive."

I whispered it to myself, quiet enough that no one else could hear.

"Raymond James, I'm done with you."