I turned and met Liam's gaze.

He took in my rain-soaked, miserable state, and his brow furrowed in a tight frown.

"What are you doing here? I told you not to come to the firm during work hours. This isn't a place for you to just drop by."

His stern expression was a world away from the gentle look he’d just given Chloe.

I should have been sad, just like all the other times he'd dismissed me.

But at this moment, all I felt was an icy numbness.

"You said on the phone you had an urgent meeting. I was worried, so I came to bring you something to eat."

I had waited at City Hall for half the day. It was almost closing time before I finally got ahold of him.

I had rushed over, frantic.

I was glad I came.

Otherwise, I don’t know how much longer I would have been made a fool of.

He paused, his eyes flickering away from mine guiltily.

"You misheard. It wasn't a meeting, Chloe was…"

"No, you're right. It's my fault," I cut him off.

It was me. I was the one who was wrong.

Wrong from the very beginning.

"Well, I'll get out of your hair then."

I turned to leave.

Liam didn't follow. Chloe was crying.

"Is Ava mad at me? It's all my fault… I'm so sorry for putting you in a difficult position…"

Liam comforted her in a low voice, "It's not your fault. She's just being inconsiderate."

I quickened my pace.

On the car ride home, a call came from Liam. I didn't want to answer, but he kept calling, again and again.

"Hello?"

"You're not busy for the next few days, are you?"

Liam's voice had softened.

I remained silent.

He continued, "Chloe has to pull some all-nighters to meet a project deadline."

"Since you're free, could you make some dinner and bring it over for her?"

"She's a young girl, new to the firm, with no one to look after her. As the future boss's wife, you should take care of her."

Liam’s voice was filled with a genuine concern I’d never heard him use for me.

But I had cut off my family for him. I often cried myself to sleep at night, homesick.

He was all I had in this city.

He had never shown me that kind of concern.

That kind of tenderness is reserved for someone you truly love.

It took me five years to understand that simple truth.

Sensing my silence, Liam was about to say more.

But I simply replied, "Okay."

The other end of the line went quiet.

Liam probably hadn't expected me to agree so readily.

After all, I would be cooking for the other woman, the one he was so intimate with.

But he didn't know. I had already decided to leave him.

Before I even went to the firm, I had scheduled an abortion for three days later and bought a one-way ticket to Paris.

Liam once told me that a marriage license couldn't hold him, only my love could.

Since my love couldn't hold him either, I didn't want him anymore.

When I got home, I called building maintenance myself.

The faucet had been leaking for two weeks. Liam said he would fix it but kept putting it off.

He was busy, he said. Busy comforting Chloe, who was always having some crisis or another.

I kept waiting, just as I had waited for the marriage he promised.

But our relationship, much like that faucet, was broken beyond repair.

The moment the repairman finished, a sense of calm washed over me.

It turned out I could survive without Liam.

Liam didn't come home that night.

The next day, as promised, I brought Chloe her meal.

The second night, Liam still didn't come home.

On the afternoon of the third day, as I was heading downstairs with the lunch box, I saw Liam waiting by the roadside.

He was leaning against his car, smoking, his profile handsome.

I was surprised to see him.

He strode toward me, took the lunch box, and said, "Thanks for your hard work…"

He would drag his feet on marrying me, yet here he was, unable to wait a moment longer for Chloe's dinner.

The sheer absurdity of it made a bitter, silent laugh escape me.

He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to cancel our appointment again. How about this, as soon as Chloe's project is over, we'll go get married."

I felt none of my previous joy, my mind just raced, searching for a way to refuse.

Until his phone rang.

The name "Chloe" on the screen stung my eyes.

He answered, and not two seconds later, he turned anxiously.

"Chloe's feeling sick. I have to go check on her. You head home, okay? Take care of yourself."

Just like countless times before, Chloe's call was a royal summons, and he was her ever-loyal servant.

I watched him leave. When I got home, I started packing.

Since I was the one who had moved into his life, I didn't have much to pack. It didn't take long.

I looked around the apartment. Even with my luggage packed, the place didn't look any different.

Just like my presence, my absence made no real difference.

I was about to rest when a new friend request popped up on my Instagram. The message read, "Ava, it's Chloe."

I accepted.

I regretted it a second later.

I knew she wouldn't have anything nice to say, I just didn't expect her to be so brazen.