Chapter 2

Whenever Brandon drank too much at business dinners, I was the one staying up to nurse him with hangover soup.

Whenever his birthday approached, I spent an entire month planning his gift.

When he said he was too busy with his startup and didn't want to get married yet, I told him, "Okay, I'll wait for you."

I waited, and waited, and waited.

And this was where my waiting led.

At two in the morning, the front door lock clicked.

Brandon was back.

I opened my eyes and watched him switch into his slippers in the hallway.

Under the faint amber light, the fresh, angry red mark on his collarbone was impossible to miss.

A hickey.

In the past, he never allowed anyone to leave visible marks on him, always saying it looked unprofessional.

I guess tonight, he was just too blissfully happy to care.

Seeing me sitting on the couch, his steps hesitated.

He didn't walk over to hold me like he usually did, nor did he explain why he was home so late.

Instead, he walked over to the single armchair farthest from me, sat down, and remained silent for a long time.

"Chloe."

He finally spoke, his voice dry and raspy.

"We've been together for too long."

I stared at him without a word.

"We know each other too well. We're like family now, and that's just not what marriage is supposed to be."

He kept his head down, carefully choosing his words.

"Mia is different. Being with her makes me want to get married. She makes me want to settle down."

Mia. The little receptionist.

I repeated the name silently in my head.

"I know this is on me. I will compensate you."

He finally looked up at me.

"I'll transfer the title of this house to your name, plus a million dollars in cash. It's more than enough for you to live comfortably."

He paused for a beat.

"As for the firm... submit your resignation tomorrow. If Mia sees you at the office, it will make things awkward for her."

After hearing him out, I simply nodded.

"Deal."

He blinked, clearly taken aback by how easily I surrendered.

"You... agree?"

"I agree."

I stood up, staring right into his eyes.

"Move your things out right now."

He frowned.

"Tonight?"

"Yes. Right now."

My voice was devoid of emotion.

"Since the house is legally mine now, you have no business sleeping here. Pack up and leave."

He stared at me for several seconds before giving a stiff nod.

"Fine. I'll go upstairs and grab my bags."

He headed upstairs, while I stood rooted to the floor.

Moments later, the sound of drawers slamming and hangers rattling drifted down from the master bedroom.

I walked out onto the balcony, gazing out into the quiet night. My chest felt hollow.

It wasn't pure sorrow; it was an emptiness that came after being completely drained.

When the breeze blew past, I felt weightless.

About half an hour later, Brandon came down carrying two large suitcases.

He reached the foyer, turned back to look at me, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something.

I didn't even look his way.

The front door opened and clicked shut. The roar of his sports car faded into the distance.

Standing in the vast, empty living room, I suddenly let out a soft laugh.

Ten years, packed into two suitcases and driven away.

How remarkably clean.