I made it to Dr. Evans' clinic with minutes to spare.

Skipping breakfast had left me dizzy.


I reached into my pocket and found three Godiva chocolates. Ever since I'd once fainted from low blood sugar, Julian had made a habit of slipping chocolates into my coat pocket each morning.

The sweetness melted on my tongue, quickly steadying me.

But afterward, a persistent bitterness rose from deep in my throat.


Seven years together.

How had Julian and I ended up like this?


Dr. Evans handed me warm water, her voice steady as always. "Aurora, what have you remembered this time?"

I stared at the chocolate wrapper in my palm, my thoughts drifting backward.

At first, I truly believed Sienna was just "an investor's daughter he had to handle," which explained why Julian treated me professionally in public while giving her special attention.

He'd tear apart my proposals in front of everyone while approving Sienna's flawed plans. My team's overtime achievements would mysteriously transfer to her department's credit.

I forced myself to believe he had his reasons. But soon that "special" treatment invaded our home.

Julian would abandon me in the middle of the night whenever she called, rushing to her side.

Until one night, everything exploded.

I spotted a photo in a colleague's Instagram story.

Julian, who'd claimed to be working late, was on Broadway with Sienna watching "Hamilton"—the very musical I'd begged him countless times to see.

I'd once tugged his sleeve, pleading, "Babe, everyone's seeing it with someone they love. Can't we go too?"

Julian hadn't even looked up from his screen. "Wasting three hours on a musical I've already seen online is pointless."

But there he was in the photo, impeccably suited, his profile showing a smile so tender it could melt.

Not a hint of impatience anywhere.

When he returned home, I asked flatly: "How was 'Hamilton'?"

Something like surprise flashed in his eyes—or perhaps I imagined it.

He looked at me coldly. "Are you stalking me now?"

My heart felt like it was wrapped in a soaking wet towel, too heavy to breathe through.

"Stalk you? Your cozy photos with her are all over the office!" My chest heaved. "Julian, if you want out, just say it. Don't string me along like this!"

His expression remained unchanged, like an uninvolved bystander.

"If you can't even trust me at the most basic level, I have nothing to say. I've been swamped all day, Aurora. I don't have energy for this drama."

No guilt. No explanation.

He carefully placed a paper bag on the entryway table.

The bag bore the logo of that impossible-to-reserve artisanal chocolate shop. Those two embossed words cut through my heart like ice blades.

I snatched the bag and hurled it to the floor.

The contents tumbled out with several dull thuds.

I didn't look down, just glared at him with burning eyes.

We faced each other like enemies across a battlefield.

After a long moment, he slammed the door and left.

I stood frozen until something rolled against my foot. Looking down, I froze.

Chocolates.

Scattered across the floor—handmade chocolates from my favorite shop.

Dr. Evans' voice pulled me back. "So you tried to communicate after that?"

I nodded, my voice dry. "Yes, on our sixth anniversary."

Fighting tears, I texted him.

"I'm sorry for getting angry without talking first. But you did lie about working late when you were taking her to the show. It's our anniversary tonight. I'm waiting at home. Can we please talk?"

I waited from daylight to darkness. He never came.

As midnight approached, I decided to find him at the office.

Disaster struck in the company's underground garage. Robert Jones—the supervisor Julian had demoted because of Sienna—cornered me against my car.

"I might not touch the CEO's woman," he slurred, "but who says I can't have his little whore he keeps hidden away?"

My calls went unanswered. My desperate cries echoed hopelessly through the concrete structure.

If a couple hadn't driven by, honking their horn and scaring him off, my injuries would have been far worse than facial bruises.

When my phone rang, I screamed like a wounded animal.

Seeing "Julian" on the screen, my forced strength instantly crumbled.

I broke down sobbing, barely able to speak: "Ju—"

"Hello?"

A gentle, sweet female voice answered. Sienna.

"Julian's discussing important matters with important people," she chuckled. "He can't come to the phone right now. May I ask who's calling? Is it urgent?"

My throat felt stuffed with burning coals.

I hung up and limped to the police station to file a report.

At 12:01 AM, Julian finally called.

His tone remained condescending: "Ready to admit your mistake?"

In that moment, I understood everything.

All those unanswered calls on our anniversary—his punishment for my "lack of trust."

Tears burned down my swollen face like acid on open wounds.

My voice came out like a broken bellows.

"Julian, we're done."

Just one second of silence.

Julian sneered: "Fine. Don't come crawling back."