I shook my head and, instead of waiting in the cold wind as I used to, I went inside alone.
Just then, a notification lit up my phone.
Brooke had posted a new update, deliberately tagging me.
"Missed the candlelight dinner, but I got the starlight of an entire amusement park. The moon is so beautiful tonight!"
In the photo, she was at the top of a Ferris wheel on Long Island, her hand held tightly by a larger one.
The man's face wasn't visible, but the sapphire signet ring on his thumb—a symbol of the Croft family's power—was one I knew better than anyone.
So, even the anniversary dinner I had looked forward to was just a leftover he had casually tossed aside.
He was on her time now.
I told myself I didn't care.
A familiar, dull ache tightened in my chest, stealing my breath for a moment.
But I found I had grown used to the suffocating feeling; it didn't even slow my steps.
He'd broken countless promises in our seven years of marriage. Why should this last one matter?
As long as he signed those divorce papers, he could watch the moon from a Ferris wheel with anyone he pleased.
After dinner, I trudged home alone.
Passing through the old part of town, I paused.
The cheap pizza place where we used to scrape together money for a meal had become a chic dessert boutique.
The city had changed. People change.
Even our fondest memories, of leaning on each other when we had nothing, felt like relics from another life.
At 1 a.m., I returned to our cold home.
The living room lights were blazing.
Julian was on the sofa, frowning as he fiddled with his phone. When he saw me walk in, his anxiety morphed into anger, and he strode toward me.
"What's wrong with you? Not answering your phone, not replying to my texts. Do you have any idea how worried I was?"
Was he actually waiting for me? Or was he just furious that I’d stood him up and bruised his ego?
It didn't matter. Once I was gone, Brooke could move right into the master bedroom, the prize she so desperately wanted.
