Chapter 2

After I hung up on my friend, I sat in the dark until the window turned gray.

I didn't cry. My body wouldn't give me that mercy. I just stared at the pregnancy slip on my nightstand like it was a confession with my name on it.

My phone stayed silent.

By four a.m, I finally stood up.

I pulled my suitcase from the closet and laid it open on the bed.I was zipping the suitcase when I heard the front door.

Footsteps.

Jared came into the bedroom.

His eyes landed on the suitcase.

Something tightened in his face.

“Phoenix.”

I didn't answer.

He crossed the room in two strides and grabbed the edge of the suitcase before I could close it.

“That wedding doesn't count,” he said, voice low. “It was fake.”

My throat burned.

I looked up at him. “You kissed her.”

“She's sick.”His jaw flexed. He exhaled once, hard. “She has ALS.”

The sentence dropped into the room and stayed there, heavy and ugly.

“She's dying,” Jared continued, as if the word would excuse everything. “She wanted to be a bride one time. When I went to see her, she was already in the dress. She looked at me like—” He stopped himself, swallowed. “I couldn't say no.”

I stared at him until my eyes stung.

“Couldn't,” I said softly, “or didn't want to?”

“Phoenix……”

He stepped closer, hand reaching for my wrist. I moved back before he could touch me.

“No.”

Again. He said it again, like a curse.

My voice came out quiet. “When did she come back?”

His eyes flickered. A pause.

“Two weeks ago,” he said.

Two weeks.

My stomach clenched.

“And these days,” I asked, keeping my voice steady by force, “your ‘family business'… your trips… all of it was her?”

Jared didn't answer.

Silence, long enough to become an admission.

I nodded once. “Okay.”

That word surprised him more than any scream would have.

“Phoenix,” he said again, sharper. “Don't do this.”

I pulled the suitcase off the bed.

He reached out, catching my arm this time. “Don't leave,” he said, and for the first time all night, his voice cracked. “We can talk. We'll fix this.”

“How? How to fix?”

“With glue? I'm not an object, Jared!”

I finally couldn't hold it in anymore—I shouted.

“I know, I know you're not, Phoenix. Don't do this, Phoenix… she's going to die…” He still gripped me tightly, his face etched with worry and exhaustion.

That was rare—at least, rare for me to see.

In that moment, was his pain because I was leaving… or because Sophia was about to wither away?

I couldn't tell.

It was probably the latter.

He rarely ever felt sorrow because of me.

I looked down at his hand on my arm, then back at his face.

“Let go.”

His grip tightened on the suitcase lid. “You're my wife.”

“And she was your bride.”

The resolve in my eyes seemed to finally cut him. His grip loosened a fraction.

I pushed the suitcase off the bed and rolled it toward the door.

He followed me into the hallway. At the top of the stairs, he caught my arm again—still not violent, still possessive.

“Phoenix. Please.”

I looked at his hand on me.

“No.”

I gave it back to him.

He froze.

And he didn't follow me down.

In that moment, my heart finally stopped hurting.

Downstairs, the car was already waiting. I got in, and my phone rang.

Mom.

I answered.

“Phoenix?” My mother's voice was soft, warm. “How are you feeling? Your father said you had an appointment yesterday.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“I'm fine,” I lied automatically.

“And Jared?” she asked gently. “When is he coming back? Come home this week, we can have dinner. Your father misses you.”

My chest went hollow.

“He won't come back,” I said.

There was a pause on the other end. “What do you mean?”

The words spilled out, fast—pregnant, hospital, garden, wedding, first love, the way he treated me.

When I finally stopped, I realized I was shaking.

My mother didn't speak for a moment.

Then her voice changed. Just steel.

“Baby,” she said, “come home.Come back.”

I swallowed hard. My eyes burned. “Mom…”

Her inhale once, and go on, “I'm sending people to get you. Right now.”

“Don't be afraid,” she said. “Your father and I, we'll always be here. Okay?”

I closed my eyes.

“Okay.”

I hung up, wiped my tears dry, and looked at the driver.

“Take me to the hospital.”

The ride was silent. My heart no longer wavered with unease—whatever the decision was, it had already landed, and the sound of it had long since been swallowed whole.

And in the silence, I realized something terrifying.

For the first time in seven years, Jared had no idea what I was about to take from him.