Chapter 3
Julian finally returned to the apartment at eleven that night.
He slipped off his light gray cashmere coat, casually reaching to hang it on the entryway hook, when he froze mid-motion. His gaze locked onto the display cabinet in the living room—or rather, the empty space on it.
"Where's the crystal trophy from our Youth Olympic gold?"
Still clutching his coat, he hurried into the living room, a rare flicker of genuine panic in his eyes.
"When you rushed out at noon, you bumped into the cabinet. It fell and shattered," I said flatly.
He followed my gaze to the glittering crystal shards in the trash can by the door, and the tight line of his jaw finally relaxed. He let out a barely audible breath, tossed his coat onto the sofa, and pulled a Tiffany-blue box tied with a silver ribbon from his briefcase.
It was the second time today I had seen that exact packaging.
"I didn't have time to prep the surprise I promised yesterday," he said, placing the box on the edge of the bed. "Today happens to be our third wedding anniversary. This diamond necklace is for you. Happy anniversary, Stella."
For a split second, I thought I misheard him. After three whole years, he was actually pointing out our "wedding anniversary" on his own?
But as my eyes caught the edge of a receipt hastily shoved into the bottom of the shopping bag, the reality became sickeningly clear.
The timestamp was 10:00 PM this morning. Even more glaring was the quantity: Qty: 2.
Just two hours ago, Lily had posted a photo of the identical necklace box on Instagram to celebrate her third anniversary with the training camp. This gift he claimed to have "gone out of his way to buy" was nothing but an afterthought—a duplicate he grabbed while shopping for Lily, used to placate me.
I didn't touch the box. I just looked at him in silence.
"By the way," Julian cleared his throat, his eyes darting away to avoid mine. "For the exhibition gala at Nationals next month... could you give up the closing spot? Lily's been with the camp for three years now. What she needs most is a massive solo stage to boost her profile."
He added, a trace of guilt bleeding through his tone, "We've been closing the gala for years. Let her have it this time, okay?"
My lips twitched into a pale, bitter smile. So, this "two-for-one" surprise came with a steep price tag.
"Okay," I nodded calmly.
He could have Nationals. He could have Worlds next year, and every single competition after that. I was done fighting her for ice time and Julian's spotlight. Because after tomorrow, I would vanish from his world completely.
"You... you're actually agreeing?"
He froze, eyeing me with disbelief as if trying to find the catch.
"Lily's the rising star of the club now," I said, my voice entirely devoid of inflection. "As your partner, it's only right I cede the spotlight to her. Besides, in the eyes of the public and the sponsors, we're already the perfect, inseparable couple. It's for our overall commercial appeal, isn't it?"
He let out a long exhale, relief flashing plainly across his face.
"Right. I don't have training tomorrow," he said, taking a sudden step forward. His tone softened into a rare, tender register. "Let's go to City Hall first thing in the morning. We'll finally sign that marriage license we've been putting off for three years."
I kept quiet, just watching him.
He finally seemed to notice the packed suitcase sitting in the corner and paused. "Almost forgot. You mentioned yesterday you were heading out of town to rehab your ankle for a while. What time is your flight tomorrow?"
"Three in the afternoon," I replied softly.
I stared deep into his eyes. This was the moment. My last chance to tell him face-to-face: I'm not just going for rehab. I'm going to the women's singles camp in Milan. I've already submitted the official split request to the Federation.
But before I could form a single syllable, the jarring tone of his phone shattered the moment.
It was Lily's custom ringtone.
The second he answered, a weak, tearful voice drifted through the receiver. She had twisted her ankle during off-ice training and was stuck at the facility, terrified to move, sobbing that she might have torn a ligament.
Julian hung up, all color draining from his face. The performed tenderness vanished, instantly replaced by raw, frantic anxiety.
"Uh... Lily had an accident. It might be a severe sprain, and she's all alone out there. I have to go over right now."
He was already snatching his coat off the sofa. He phrased it like a question, but his feet were already moving toward the door.
I swallowed the goodbye I had prepared and forced a hollow smile.
"It's fine. Go."
He looked like a man handed a pardon. Reaching the entryway, he turned back, looking at me with earnest conviction. "Your flight is at three, so we have plenty of time. I'll meet you at the steps of City Hall at 10:00 AM sharp."
"Stella, I promise you. No matter what happens, I won't bail this time."
The door slammed shut, dragging a cold draft through the room. Sitting alone in the massive apartment, I couldn't help but let out a low laugh.
Right to the bitter end, he wouldn't even give me the time to end things to his face.
The next morning, I briskly pulled my suitcase out the door and hailed a cab straight to JFK. I didn't go to City Hall, and when 10:00 AM rolled around, I didn't send a single text asking where he was.
Noon came and went. My phone remained dead silent. No frantic calls from Julian demanding to know why I wasn't there.
It wasn't until 2:30 PM, right as the terminal speakers began the final boarding call for the flight to Milan, that his text finally came through.
[I'm so sorry, Stella. Lily might have a slight ligament tear in her ankle, and she's on the verge of a breakdown. I just finished sitting with her through her MRI, and she needs someone by her side constantly.]
[We definitely won't make it to City Hall today. The second you get back from rehab, I'll go with you to sign the papers.]
Reading the words on the screen, my heart sank like a stone into stagnant water, too far gone to surface even a single ripple.
Of course. His twenty-ninth broken promise. Right on schedule.
I took a deep breath, my fingers flying across the glass as I typed out my final reply.
[Don't bother waiting for me to get back, Julian. I've already submitted my resignation from the team and our official split request to the Federation. I am currently on a direct flight to Milan.]
[After today, our lives will never cross paths again.]
I hit send and immediately pressed the power button without a second thought.
Just a fraction of a second before the screen faded to black, the little typing bubbles popped up on the chat thread that had been dead all day.
Then, the exact moment I shoved the phone into my pocket, it began to vibrate violently.
