Chapter 3

"Clara, the school is hosting the annual tenure gala next Friday. The principal specifically asked for spouses to attend. Will you come?"

A week later, he called me.

His tone was much softer, reminiscent of when he first proposed—cautious, with a hint of pleading.

I was sitting in my hotel room. The curtains were wide open, looking out at the city at 2 AM.

"Do you want me there just to save face?"

"You're my wife. It’s not about 'saving face,' you're supposed to be there." He paused. "This promotion to Vice Principal is huge for me. The superintendent will be there. Just help me out this once."

*Help him.*

For three years, whenever he needed something, he used those two words.

"Fine," I said.

"Wear that slate-blue dress. The classy one."

The gala was held at a hotel near the school.

By the time I arrived, the ballroom was mostly full. Ethan was waiting for me at the entrance, his tie done up more meticulously than usual, wearing his signature public-relations smile.

He took my hand and led me inside.

At Table Three.

I saw Chloe immediately.

She was sitting right next to Ethan’s designated seat—the spot that was supposed to be mine.

Even worse, she was wearing a slate-blue dress. Slinky, wrap-around, almost identical to mine.

Except she was younger and thinner. She wore it better.

Ethan’s pace faltered for a fraction of a second before he recovered.

"Oh, Clara, let's have Chloe sit over here," he said, pulling out a chair next to her and gesturing for Chloe to move over one spot.

As Chloe stood up, she flashed me a sweet smile. "Hi, Clara! I've been dying to meet you. Ethan talks about you all the time."

I sat down and didn't reply.

When the food was served, Ethan reached for a dish.

Without a word, Chloe reached over and naturally picked the cilantro out of his plate.

Her movements were practiced, effortless.

Ethan hated cilantro. It had taken me two years to remember all his tiny dietary quirks. It had taken her three months.

An older female teacher across the table smiled warmly at me. "So, you must be Ethan's wife! I heard you're a homemaker?"

"We don't have kids," I replied.

"Ah, so... just a stay-at-home wife then?"

Chloe chimed in instantly. "Clara is amazing, she takes care of the whole house. Unlike me, I'm up all night grading papers, I have terrible dark circles." She tilted her head to look at Ethan. "Ethan always says how sweet and domestic Clara is."

The other teachers at the table exchanged looks. It was a look I knew all too well—a mix of pity, curiosity, and subtle condescension.

A male teacher near the window raised his glass. "Ethan has a bright future ahead of him, and Chloe is a brilliant addition to our department. You two make a fantastic team."

Chloe looked down, blushing. Her ears turned a soft pink—that genuine, shy happiness of a girl being teased about the man she loved.

I picked up my glass of ice water.

Everyone at the table was looking at Ethan and Chloe. No one was looking at me.

I stood up.

I poured the water right onto the carpet by Ethan’s feet. I didn't splash it on him; I didn't want to make a cheap scene.

But the sound was loud enough.

The entire table went dead silent.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ethan hissed under his breath.

"Everyone," I said, putting the empty glass back on the table, looking at each of them. "I'm not feeling well, so I'll take my leave. This 'blessing' of not having to work... I think someone else wants it more than I do. You can have him."

As I turned, I heard Chloe whisper, "Oh my god, why is she being like this? I was just sitting here..."

I didn't look back.

My heels clicked sharply against the marble floor of the corridor, echoing in the empty hallway.

Just as I reached the elevator, Ethan caught up to me.

"You completely humiliated me tonight! Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Humiliated you?" I pressed the down button. "Do you even have any dignity left to lose?"

The elevator doors slid open.

As they closed, I heard his voice cut through the gap: "Clara, don't push me."

***