I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My mind was blank.

There was a time I told Nigel everything.

Now, I didn't want to tell him anything at all.

I turned to leave. But he grabbed my arm.

"What's wrong with you? It's only been a few days. Why are you acting like this?"

Before I could answer, Olivia stepped in between us.

"Nigel, can you help me with something?"

He didn't even look at me. "Sure. What's going on?"

She lowered her head, voice small and shaky. "I paid the down payment on my new apartment last week. But I don't have money left for renovations. The contractor's pushing to start. I've asked around, and no one can lend me anything. I really don't know what to do. Could you maybe… help?"

"Of course."

He didn't hesitate.

He pulled out his phone and made a call on the spot. His tone was firm. "List the house on South Bay. I don't care about the price. Sell it today, even if we lose money. The sooner the better."

Olivia dabbed at her eyes, as if she was holding back tears. "You can't do that. That place is in such a good neighborhood. Property values are rising. Selling now would be such a waste. And that was supposed to be your future home with Melissa. She won't agree to this."

She glanced at me, eyes flickering.

Nigel's voice turned cold. "What does it matter if she agrees? It's not her house."

Then he looked straight at me. "Olivia's all alone in this city. We should help her.

"We can rent after we get married. I'm already marrying you. That should be enough."

For a second, I couldn't breathe.

In his mind, I was a woman who couldn't live without him, someone who had to marry him no matter what.

He made it sound like marrying me was some kind of sacrifice.

Did he forget he was the one who pursued me in the first place?

What hurt even more was that he was selling our future home for Olivia.

I remembered another day clearly.

My mother was in critical condition. The doctor said that if we couldn't pay, they would stop the medication.

I cried so hard that I could barely speak. I begged Nigel to lend me 50 thousand and told him I would sign an IOU.

He said, "That house is all I have. I'm not selling it. Not a chance."

Now, Olivia just needed money to redo her floors and kitchen, and he was ready to dump the place without blinking. He even said losing money didn't matter.

So that was the difference.

My mother's life wasn't worth as much as Olivia's renovation.

My face felt numb. My voice came out steady. "It's your house. Sell it if you want."

He frowned, looking as if he wanted to argue, but he didn't.

I turned again. But he caught my wrist.

"I've been tied up wrapping up projects," he said quietly. "This Saturday, I'll go visit your mom. She always wanted to see us get married. We can talk about the wedding and start planning."

Something twisted in my chest.

He hadn't visited her once throughout her hospital stay.

When my mother asked about him, he was either busy helping Olivia move, or driving her to buy furniture, or picking out appliances with her.

Now, she was gone.

And he said he would go see her.

I took a slow breath and looked at him. "There's no need."

I didn't look back. I just walked faster until he was behind me, and the street swallowed me up.

When I got back to my empty studio apartment, my phone rang.

It was a friend. She said a headhunting firm had reached out. They wanted me and were offering triple my current salary. She asked if I would consider it.

"Yes," I said.

I didn't hesitate.

There was nothing left for me in this suffocating city.

The next morning, I went to the office and submitted my resignation.

That same evening, our department manager organized a team dinner at a bar a few blocks away.

Halfway through the night, someone suggested we play Truth or Dare.

The bottle ended up pointing at Olivia. She picked dare, and they challenged her to kiss a man of her choice.

Her eyes swept across the table, quick and deliberate, before stopping on Nigel.

"I'll pick Mr. Cross," she said with a teasing smile. "Don't take it seriously. It's just a game."

The bar went quiet.

I remembered another party years ago. A girl had confessed to Nigel in front of everyone. He didn't refuse her right away and even accepted the glass of champagne she handed him.

I grabbed the glass straight from his hand and dumped it into a nearby planter.

I had always been ruthless about boundaries. Cross the line, and I would rather burn everything down than pretend it didn't matter.

My coworkers glanced at me, waiting for a reaction.

I simply smiled, lifted my glass of water, and drained it in one go. Then I started clapping.

"Go ahead," I said lightly. "Let's keep the game going. Don't kill the mood."

People stared, stunned. No one expected that from me.

Nigel's expression shifted from cautious curiosity to outright shock. He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to stop it, but my applause drowned him out.

Olivia froze for half a second, clearly thrown off by my calm reaction, then quickly recovered her sweet smile.

She looped her arms around Nigel's neck and kissed him.

For a brief moment, he hesitated.

Then he kissed her back, and he didn't stop. The longer it lasted, the more he leaned into it.

The cheers around us grew louder, but the sound felt distant, as if it couldn't reach me at all.

I suddenly remembered a long-ago night when a girl had stolen a kiss from Nigel while he was drunk. I cried the entire night after finding out, my eyes swollen by morning.

He kneeled in front of me then and said, "I swear I'll never touch another woman but you."

Now he was kissing someone else right in front of me.

That promise meant nothing.

Even though I had already decided to walk away, the pain still pressed against my chest until breathing felt hard.

A few minutes later, they finally pulled apart, both flushed.

Olivia wiped the corner of her mouth, a hint of triumph hiding behind her polite tone. "Sorry, Melissa. It was just a game. Don't be mad."

Her words sounded apologetic, but her eyes were full of open challenge.

Nigel gripped the edge of his shirt, clearly bracing for me to explode like I used to.

I calmly set down my utensils, picked up a napkin, and wiped my lips.

"It's fine," I said evenly. "As long as everyone's having fun."

I gave them a faint, almost polite smile.

The tension drained from Nigel's face. Then something else replaced it.

Disappointment.

He looked at me as if he didn't recognize me anymore.

After finishing the resignation paperwork, I went home and started packing for Kentonshire.

Then I remembered something.

In the house Nigel had sold, there was a rocking chair my mother had built by hand. She had made it as a wedding gift for me.

Now, it was the only thing she had left behind.

I decided to go get it.

When I arrived at the house, I automatically entered my birthday as the door code.

Error.

I frowned and tried again.

Still wrong.

Thinking I had mistyped, I switched to fingerprint unlock.

Access denied.

My authorization had been removed.

Just as I was about to call Nigel, I suddenly remembered the birthday listed on Olivia's resume.

A ridiculous thought crossed my mind.

I entered that date into the keypad.

The door unlocked with a click.

I stepped inside and froze.

Nigel and Olivia sat together in the living room, a candlelit dinner spread between them.

Champagne glasses caught the soft light. Steak dinners sat half-finished on the table. Rose petals covered the floor, trailing all the way toward the bedroom like something out of a romance movie.

They both stared at me, stunned.

Then Olivia's lips curled into a faint, provocative smile, as if I were the one intruding.

Nigel stood up quickly, trying to look composed, though panic flashed in his eyes. "H-how did you get in?"

I smiled lightly. "I tried a stranger's birthday. The door opened."

My gaze shifted to Olivia. I looked at her coldly.

Her smile faltered. "I changed the passcode while I was bored. Don't take it personally."

She shot Nigel a quick glance. I pretended not to notice.

"And my fingerprint?" I asked. "You deleted that, too?"

Hearing that, Nigel exploded. "Melissa!"

His voice thundered through the room. Whether he was protecting Olivia or just embarrassed, I couldn't tell. "Do you have to push things this far?"

I looked at him, his face twisted from anger, and suddenly, everything felt pointless.

I turned to Olivia. "Get up from that chair."

She blinked, but didn't move.

I repeated myself.

Nigel immediately stepped in front of her. "This is my house. You're not doing anything here."

"I'm just taking my chair," I said evenly. "That's all."

He paused, surprise flickering across his face, followed by something like disappointment.

Olivia's smile tightened. "I really like this chair. Could you give it to me?"

I let out a quiet laugh. "My mom made that for me. I'm not giving it to anyone."

She clearly wasn't ready to drop it. "Then I'll buy it. Name your price."

I actually laughed this time, anger sharp in my chest. "No. It's mine. Are you trying to take it?"

Her expression darkened. Without warning, she kicked the rocking chair.

The chair tipped over and hit the floor.

"No!" I shouted, tears rushing up before I could stop them.

I stepped forward instinctively, reaching toward the chair.

Suddenly, Olivia collapsed onto the floor, crying loudly. "How could you be so cruel? I was just venting, and you shoved me!"

Before I could react, a sharp slap struck my face.

I froze, stunned, and tears streamed down my cheeks.

It was the first time Nigel had ever hit me.

"Get out," he snapped. "Right now."

He grabbed my arm, shoved me outside, and slammed the door shut behind me.

The sound echoed down the hallway.

I walked down the street unsteadily, barely feeling my feet touch the ground. My phone buzzed.

It was a message from Nigel.

[I lost my temper earlier. Just come back and apologize to Olivia. We can pretend none of this happened.]

I stared at the screen and started laughing through my tears.

Then I blocked his number and every other way he could reach me.

It was the first time I had ever done that.

No matter how bad our fights used to get, I had never completely cut him off.

This time, I did.

I wiped my face, pulled my suitcase behind me, and headed toward the airport.

Goodbye, Nigel.