Chapter 3

After dinner, I clutched my aching stomach, walking far behind the two of them as they stumbled along, leaning on each other.

Chloe was swaying, unable to walk straight, her body practically draped over Brandon.

The alcohol had flushed her cheeks, making her already striking features look even more vibrant and alluring. She stopped in front of the Uber, blinking playfully.

"Brandon, thank you so much for tonight," she said. Then she glanced back at me and added, "Oh, and thank you too, Evelyn."

I said nothing.

Brandon held Chloe steady, bending down to carefully check the driver’s details and whispering to him to drive safely.

The driver chuckled and teased, "Man, you really look out for your girlfriend."

Brandon froze. He instinctively glanced back at me, while Chloe’s eyes darted to me for a split second.

The silence was deafening.

But tellingly, neither of them made any move to correct him.

It was as if they shared a silent, mutual agreement to let the lie stand.

I lowered my head, staring at the faint bruise on the back of my hand from an IV drip I had a few days ago.

The physical wound had healed, but a much sharper, deeper pain was boring into my chest.

Only after Chloe’s taillights disappeared around the corner did Brandon finally remember my existence.

He tossed the car keys to his assistant, Mark, his tone returning to its usual cold, indifferent pitch.

"I have to go back to the office for some paperwork. Mark will drop you at the subway station, and you can take the train home."

The private, pre-arranged ride went to Chloe.

But I, his actual fiancée, only got a ride to the nearest subway entrance.

I suddenly wanted to laugh, but my lips wouldn't move.

I shook my head and held up my phone.

"No need. I already ordered an Uber."

I hadn't said anything aggressive, yet Brandon stared at me for a long time.

His eyes were dark and heavy.

"Evelyn, what are you throwing a fit about now?"

I used to be terrified of that look. In the past, I would have immediately softened, apologized, and begged for peace.

Now, my lips twitched, but I felt absolutely zero desire to speak to him.

I wanted to ask him: Why did it have to be an all-meat steakhouse?

Why did he pick up Chloe first and completely ignore me?

Why didn't he correct the driver about who his real girlfriend was?

But now, none of it seemed to matter anymore.

Before I could even speak, he seemed to read my mind. He frowned, a look of deep exhaustion washing over his face.

His voice carried the impatient irritation of a man forced to explain himself.

"She’s a girl, and it’s late. It’s not safe for her to go home alone. Letting the driver think I’m her boyfriend isn't a big deal."

"Chloe is your friend too. Why do you have to be so petty over every little thing?"

"Evelyn, stop being so immature."

He finished his speech and stood there, waiting for my usual surrender.

I stared at him, my eyes wide and dry. I wanted to scream, to fight back, but I didn't even know where to start.

After a long silence, I heard myself speak. My voice was incredibly quiet.

"I'm fine. An Uber is just easier. I’ve had a long day, and I just want to go home and sleep."

Looking at my pale face, he seemed to finally remember that I was his fiancée. He took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly.

He reached out to grab my wrist.

"Fine. I’ll have Mark take you all the way home."

"No," I said, stepping back to avoid his touch.

"My ride is here."

His hand remained frozen in mid-air.

A look I didn't care to decipher flashed in his eyes, but his voice remained stubborn.

"Suit yourself."

I had already turned my back on him and climbed into the Uber.

My phone buzzed. It was a confirmation notification for a reservation at a vegan restaurant I had booked weeks ago.

But there was not a single text from Brandon.

To him, letting Mark drive me home was already his way of bowing his head.

I swiped left and deleted the notification.

Rain started to patter against the car window, blurring the streetlights. People drift apart just like that.

An umbrella offered after the storm is over... is an umbrella I no longer want.