Chapter 3

I didn't care about their fight. Couples argue. It wasn't my problem anymore.

But Gideon didn't see it that way.

He called me twelve times over the next three days. I ignored every single one. Then he got smart and borrowed Brynn's phone.

"Don't hang up," he said the moment I picked up.

I almost did anyway.

"I have something to show you." His voice was eager, almost boyish. "I've been working on it for weeks."

He flipped the camera. Floor plans. Seating charts. Flower arrangements. A venue I didn't recognize—some clifftop garden overlooking the sea.

"This is our wedding," he said. "The real one. I designed everything myself."

He scrolled through image after image. The altar. The guest list. The menu.

"Dove told me she's getting married next month. She's leaving for good this time." He paused. "Come home, Seren. As soon as you land, we'll start planning. No more delays. I promise."

I promise.

How many times had I heard that?

And still—still—some stupid part of me hesitated.

Eighth time. Was I really considering an eighth time?

"The apartment," I heard myself say. "I want to move somewhere else."

Silence.

"Somewhere without her things in the closet," I continued. "Without her shampoo in the bathroom. Somewhere that's actually ours."

He sighed. "Seren, we've talked about this."

"Have we?"

"That apartment... Dove and I found it together in college. It has sentimental value. I can't just—"

"Sentimental value."

"It's where we—" He stopped. "It's complicated."

I understood then.

That apartment was never mine. It was theirs. I was just a guest who occasionally got to stay.

"I'll call you later," I said.

"Seren—"

I hung up.

Brynn was watching me from across the room. "You okay?"

"Fine." I opened Instagram, needing a distraction.

Dove's profile was the first thing that came up. New post, three hours ago.

A mirror selfie. She was wearing a wedding dress—white lace, sweetheart neckline. On her finger, an engagement ring I recognized instantly.

My ring. The one I'd left in the drawer.

The caption read: Finally found the one.

I scrolled to the comments.

Gideon Mercer: This one looks better than the last.

Something cracked inside my chest.

So this was why they fought on Valentine's Day. She wanted to try on my dress. Wear my ring. And he let her.

Seven dresses. I'd chosen seven wedding dresses over seven years. Never wore a single one.

She put one on for fun and posted it online.

I locked my phone and stared at the ceiling.

"Seren?" Brynn's voice was worried now.

"I'm not going back," I said.

The words came out calm. Steady.

"I'm not going back to him."

Brynn didn't argue. She just nodded and handed me a glass of wine.

The day I was supposed to fly home, Gideon texted.

Landing at 3pm right? I'll pick you up. Can't wait to see you.

I blocked his number.

Then I blocked him on everything else—Instagram, WhatsApp, email. Every app where he might try to reach me.

Brynn watched me do it. "What's the plan?"

"You go back," I said. "Tell him whatever you want. I'm taking a different flight."

She raised an eyebrow. "To where?"

I pulled out my stack of passports. Three of them, collected since the fifth time he sent me away. Visas to countries he knew nothing about.

I picked one at random.

"Somewhere he'll never find me."

She grinned. "About damn time."

We hugged at the airport. Two different gates. Two different destinations.

I didn't cry. I didn't even feel sad.

For the first time in seven years, I felt free.

Gideon arrived at the airport two hours early.

He checked the arrivals board. Paced near the gate. Kept refreshing his phone.

3:15. Passengers started trickling out.

He scanned every face. None of them were mine.

3:30. The crowd thinned.

3:45. Almost empty now.

He called my number. Straight to voicemail.

Called again. Same thing.

His hands were shaking when he dialed Brynn.

She picked up on the third ring.

"Where is she?" he demanded. "Where's Seren?"