"Bella, aren't you allergic to lilies? Let's get these flowers into Sophia's office." Anna pointed at the bouquets, pulling me away.

Even my co-workers remembered something like that. Had Vincent really forgotten?

Sophia loved strong scents. Jasmine perfume, lily bouquets.

I remembered when we first got married, Vincent memorized everything I liked. I loved the delicate scent of lily of the valley, and he had them specially ordered and planted all around our villa. I was allergic to lilies, so he'd never let one in the house.

Now, he'd even forgotten my allergies.

"Bella, are you okay?" Anna asked, her voice full of concern.

"I'm fine." I looked away. "Let's get back to work."

I went to my office and started preparing for next month's big exhibition. It was a project I'd been planning for six months, featuring ten up-and-coming artists. The client was one of New York's biggest art investment funds. The deal was worth millions. This exhibition was supposed to be a major milestone in my career.

At eleven o'clock that night, I was the only one left in the gallery, still finalizing the details.

The door opened and Vincent walked in.

"Why are you still working so late?"

"Prepping for the exhibition." I didn't look up.

"What exhibition is so important?" He walked over to my desk.

"The emerging artists showcase next month."

Vincent glanced at the papers on my desk. "Bella, I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it?"

"This exhibition. Give it to Sophia."

My hands froze over the keyboard. I looked up at him.

"What?"

"Sophia has a genuine eye for this stuff. She needs a serious platform to build her reputation," Vincent said, as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world. "She's trying to build a new life, you know? To put her past behind her. She wants to be seen as more than just some girl from the clubs."

"I've been working on this for six months."

"I know how hard you've worked, but this is more important for Sophia right now," he said, sitting down. "She's under a lot of pressure. People are always gossiping about her. This exhibition will help her establish a name for herself in the art world."

I looked at his earnest expression. He was fighting for another woman's future. For her reputation, her career.

But when I first wanted to get into this business, what did he say?

"Why don't you just stay home with me? Be my little princess. I'll spoil you. What does a woman need to work for?"

Apparently, for someone else, he could support all of her ambitions.

"Okay," I nodded.

Vincent stared. "Okay?"

"I agree. She can have the exhibition."

"You're... not going to fight me on this?" he asked, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"Why would I be mad? We're getting a divorce. My work has nothing to do with you."

Vincent's expression was complicated. He pulled a small, elegant box from his pocket.

"This is for you. As compensation."

Inside was a diamond necklace, simple and elegant.

"This will look good on you," he said, his voice gentle. "And Bella, can you take back what you said about the divorce?"

"What?"

"I've been thinking. I know you don’t really want a divorce. You’re just saying that because you’re angry. We just have a communication problem." He reached for my hand. "I'll take you to Vegas this weekend. We can start over."

I looked at the necklace, but all I could see was the one he gave Sophia.

"Vincent, do you think a necklace can fix our problems?"

"No, this is just a start," he said, his eyes pleading. "Bella, I'll change."

"I don't need you to change." I closed the box. "I just need you to let me go."

"Bella..."

"I'll take the necklace, as payment for the last six months of my work." I stood up. "But the divorce is final."

Vincent's face darkened. "Why are you being so stubborn? I will never agree to it. You need to calm down and not do something you’ll regret."

"I'm not being stubborn. I'm finally seeing things clearly."

I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

"Bella, we're husband and wife!" he yelled after me.

"Ex-husband and ex-wife," I said without looking back, and walked out of the gallery.

On the way home, I was scrolling through Instagram. Sophia's latest post popped up. In the photo, she was wearing a complete set of diamond jewelry. A necklace, earrings, and a bracelet, all from the same designer, the same collection. Exquisite and ridiculously expensive.

The caption read: "Building my forever with the only man who matters. Thank you, V."

I zoomed in on the picture, studying the jewelry. Then I took out the necklace Vincent had just given me and compared them.

The same brand. The same design.

A sharp pain shot through my heart.

The necklace he'd given me wasn't a gift. It was an afterthought. A scrap from the feast he'd laid out for her.

Just like me. I was just the extra piece in this family, the one that didn't belong anymore.

My last day.

I was on the balcony, bringing in the laundry, when my wedding ring slipped off my finger.

"No!"

I lunged for it, leaning over the railing, almost falling eighteen stories.

A strong hand yanked me back.

"Are you crazy?!" Vincent pulled me back onto the balcony. "You almost died for a ring?"

I looked down. The ring was long gone.

"It's just a ring," Vincent said, his voice laced with an easy dismissiveness. "It's gone. I'll buy you another one."

Just a ring?

I looked at his hand. His ring finger was bare.

"Where's yours?"

He instinctively clenched his fist. "It's being repaired."

"How long has it been in for repairs?"

"About a month. The diamond was loose." He avoided my eyes.

What a pathetic excuse.

A month. The exact same amount of time since he started showing up at family events with Sophia on his arm.

"Bella, tomorrow is our anniversary," he said suddenly. "Let's have dinner."

I looked at him and nodded. "Okay."

One last meal. A final end to our story.

"Seven o'clock. Bella Vista."

It was where we had our first date.

The next evening, I got to the restaurant on time. Seven o'clock came and went. Seven-fifteen. Seven-thirty.

No Vincent.

"Miss, perhaps your friend was held up," the waiter said kindly. "Would you like to order first?"

"I'll wait a little longer."

Eight o'clock. Eight-thirty.

My phone finally buzzed. Not a call from Vincent, but a text from his cousin, Marco, with a screenshot. It was a picture of Sophia from her nightclub days, scantily clad, drinking with a customer.

Marco's message was simple: `This is making the rounds. Thought you should know.`

I stared at the photo, a bad feeling creeping over me.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, the restaurant doors burst open. Vincent stormed in, his face a thundercloud, with a sobbing Sophia trailing behind him.

"Bella!" he snarled, his voice a low growl of fury. "What the hell did you do?"

All the other diners turned to stare.

"What are you talking about?" I asked calmly.

"You have some nerve, Bella," he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "Playing these games behind my back. I thought you had more class than this."

Sophia cried beside him. "Bella, I know you hate me, but you shouldn't have done this. That was my past. I've changed."

"Why are you trying to ruin me?" she wailed. "What did I ever do to you?"

The other customers started whispering. Someone was filming with their phone.

"Vincent, I didn't post those pictures," I said, looking right at him.

"Don't lie to me." The disappointment in his eyes was sharper than the fury. "Who else could it be? You're jealous of her, so you tried to ruin her."

"Bella, I overestimated you! I thought you had at least some decency!"

I looked at this man. Three years of marriage, and he didn't have an ounce of trust in me.

"Fine." I pulled a document out of my purse.

"What's that?" Vincent frowned.

"The divorce papers." I pushed them across the table to him. "Sign them."

"You..." He was stunned.

"Since you think I'm so vicious and filthy, let's just get a divorce," I said, my voice steady. "Then I won't have to disgust you anymore."

Vincent's face went through a dozen shades of fury.

Sophia tried to play peacemaker. "Bella, don't be rash. Vincent is just angry."

"You're husband and wife. Don't fight because of me."

"Shut up!" Vincent suddenly snapped at her. "This has nothing to do with you!"

Sophia flinched, and her tears flowed even harder.

"Vincent, if you think I'm so despicable, then sign the papers." I put a pen down in front of him.

"Bella, don't push me!"

"I'm not pushing you. I'm setting you free." I stood up. "Weren't you the one who said I was an embarrassment? Well, now you're free."

Vincent stared at the divorce papers, his hand trembling. Everyone in the restaurant was watching. His pride wouldn't let him back down in public.

"Fine!" He snatched the pen, his knuckles white. With a single, vicious slash, he signed his name. "You're going to regret this, Bella." His tone was stern, but a sliver of unease hid beneath it.

He raised his voice as if trying to convince himself.

"You're an orphan with nothing and nowhere to go. I'll be waiting for the day you come crawling back to me."

After signing, he grabbed Sophia to leave.

"Vincent!" Sophia cried. "I don't want to ruin your marriage!"

"Let's go!" he snarled, dragging her out of the restaurant.

I sat there, staring at the signed divorce papers.

It was over.

Three years of marriage, over just like that.

Our last wedding anniversary was now our divorce anniversary.

I looked at the table of cold Italian food, picked up my fork, and ate every last bite of the pasta in front of me. It tasted like ash, but I needed my strength.

Then, I grabbed the suitcase I'd already stashed in the corner and hailed a cab to the airport.

On the way, I sent Vincent one last text.

“I left the key at home. I'm gone. Don't contact me again.”

Message sent. I turned off my phone and boarded the plane to Seattle.