Chapter 3

Zoe didn't touch her wine.

Ethan did. Twice.

They sat across from each other in the dim corner of the restaurant, shadows wrapping around them like secrets they didn't want to admit. The candle between them flickered, casting shaky shapes over the white tablecloth. Slow jazz played from the speakers above, soft and sad, like it didn't realise it was playing for something that was falling apart.

The smell of garlic and butter hung in the air, mixing with all the memories they couldn't bring themselves to say out loud.

She hated being there. She hated how it made her feel.

Because once, this was theirs.

"You look..." Ethan started. His voice caught. "You look beautiful."

Zoe didn't even blink. "Don't start with the compliments."

"I'm just being honest."

"Then tell the truth about why you let us fall apart."

Her words hit him like a slap.

He set his wine glass down slowly, careful not to break something that already felt so close to shattering. "Because I was stupid. And selfish."

She raised an eyebrow, her expression flat and unreadable. "That's really all you've got?"

"No," he said, his voice dropping low as he leaned in closer. His words were quiet, but they sliced through the noise around them. "The truth is... I spent so long trying to build an empire that I forgot the most valuable thing I had was sitting right in front of me every single night."

Zoe's jaw tightened as she looked away. "Too late for poetry."

"I know."

Silence settled between them, thick like fog and heavy like grief.

She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs slowly and deliberately. "Don't get it twisted, Ethan." This dinner doesn't change anything. Just because I showed up doesn't mean you get a redo."

"I didn't come to win," he said. "I came to try."

Zoe let out a shaky breath, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap until it was crumpled and creased. "You trying now doesn't erase all the nights I cried myself to sleep alone."

He flinched. She saw it.

"Or the mornings you left without a word. The birthdays you missed. The anniversary you forgot."

"I remember it now," he whispered.

"That's not how anniversaries work."

There was silence again. This time sharper and meaner.

Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes locked onto hers like he was drowning and she was the only thing that could save him. "Do you remember that night we danced in the kitchen?" You were wearing that old Knicks tee, singing Beyoncé completely off-key."

Zoe blinked, thrown off balance. "You remember that?"

"I think about it every time I walk into that kitchen."

Her lips parted, but no words came out at first. When she finally spoke, her voice was just a soft whisper. "I didn't think you even noticed."

"I noticed everything," he said, softer now. "Just... five years too late."

She looked down at the table. Her throat burned.

He reached out, hand lingering across the table between them. Not touching. Just waiting.

Zoe stared at it like it might hurt her. Like if she accepted it, there'd be nothing left of herself to cling to.

"I'm not that woman anymore," she said, staring down at the table. "I've changed."

"Good." His answer came without hesitation. "She needed to."

That made her look up, fast.

But what she saw in his eyes wasn't pity. Or regret.

It was respect.

And that hurt worse.

Her breath caught.

"You want me now that I finally walked away?" she asked, her voice thin, splintered at the edges.

"I want you now because I finally see who you are."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she blinked hard, pushing them back. "You don't get to see me now," she whispered. "You had years."

"I know."

She stood suddenly, her chair scraping back.

"I shouldn't have come."

Ethan pushed up from his seat, urgency written across his face. "Zoe, wait"

She turned to leave, but his fingers brushed against her wrist, stopping her just for a moment. Not pulling. Just there.

She froze.

Their eyes locked.

Everything else blurred, the quiet clatter of cutlery, murmured conversations, the jazz spinning overhead like none of it mattered.

She could feel his breath. That familiar cologne she used to bury her face in when she thought loving him was safe.

"Don't," she whispered.

"I'm not going to kiss you," he said, his voice shaky, barely steady.

"I didn't ask."

Still, neither of them moved.

The space between them vibrated with everything they left unsaid.

"I miss you," he whispered.

"I miss who you used to be."

His hand fell away from her wrist. Just like that.

She let out a shaky breath. "You don't get to chase me now like I'm some new thing. I've always been here. You just never looked close enough."

"I'm looking now."

Zoe stepped back. It felt like breaking a spell.

Her voice was steady. Her heart wasn't. "Goodnight, Ethan."

He didn't follow.

Didn't beg.

He just watched her leave.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor, loud and sharp, like thunder rolling through an empty house.

Outside, the city roared with life. Glowing lights, car horns, chatter floating up into the night. But to Zoe, it all felt distant. Like she was walking through it in someone else's life.

She pulled her coat tighter, holding in the cold pressing against her chest.

Why had she come?

Why had she let him talk?

Why had her body leaned in, even just a little, when he reached for her?

Her phone buzzed.

One new message from Ethan:

"You were right. About everything. But I'm not going anywhere. Not again."

She stared at it.

Read it again.

Then deleted it.

No reply. No closure.

Back in his apartment, Ethan stood by the window, his eyes sweeping across the skyline like he might spot her hidden somewhere among the lights. But the city didn't care. The buildings stood silent and unblinking.

He poured himself another glass of whiskey and stared out, watching the streetlights flicker far below.

But tonight, the city didn't soothe.

Tonight, it felt like goodbye. Heavy and permanent.

The next morning, Zoe walked into her office like nothing happened.

No heartbreak, just heels, lipstick and armor.

But her assistant saw it. The flicker behind her smile.

"Rough night?"

Zoe forced a small smile. "Just dinner."

And war.

Across the city, Ethan walked into his boardroom late, eyes empty.

His business partner raised a brow. "You look like hell."

"I feel worse."

"Wife problems?"

Ethan didn't correct him.

Because Zoe wasn't his wife anymore.

She was the woman he was trying to become worthy of.

The woman he might never hold again.

Unless he learned how to fight for her differently.

That night, Zoe walked into her apartment and froze in the doorway.

There were roses.

Hundreds of them. Deep red. Fresh. Filling the room like regret had bloomed overnight.

No note.

Didn't need one.

She froze, her breath caught in her chest, her heart pounding against her ribs like it didn't know whether to break or keep going.

Her phone lit up.

ETHAN CARTER is calling...

She didn't answer.

Didn't block him either.

She sank down onto the couch, the soft rose blooms brushing against her knees, their gentle touch only making the ache in her chest feel sharper.

And in the quiet, she whispered into the dark:

"I don't know how to do this anymore."