Chapter 2

"Take a hot shower and get some sleep," he said as he unlocked the front door, tossing his keys onto the console. "You’ve been on your feet all day playing the perfect maid of honor. You're beat."

I slipped off my heels. "Yeah."

Before I could walk toward the bedroom, his phone buzzed.

He picked it up. "Yeah? What's wrong?"

The apartment was dead silent. I could hear her voice. High-pitched, breathless, laced with just the right amount of panic. Mia.

"Elias? I'm so sorry to bother you… I just… I can't get an Uber, and there's this drunk guy. He keeps yelling at me. I'm really scared."

Elias was already reaching for the coat he’d just taken off. 

"Stay inside the lobby. Don't go out. I'm on my way."

He hung up and turned to me. 

"That was Mia," he said, adjusting his collar. "She's out in Brooklyn, and some drunk is harassing her. It's not safe for a girl out there alone. I'm just gonna run over and make sure she gets inside."

Any other day, any other year, I would have fought him. I would have asked why his twenty-five-year-old assistant was calling her boss at midnight instead of the cops. I would have demanded he stay.

Tonight, I just looked at him.

"Okay," I said.

Elias froze with his hand on the doorknob. He blinked, clearly thrown off by my reaction. No nagging? No jealousy? No tears? 

"You're not mad?" he asked, a trace of suspicion creeping into his voice.

"I'm tired, Elias. Drive safe."

He lingered for a second, but he still gave me a quick nod. "I won't be long."

The door clicked shut.

I turned and walked down the hall to the spare room. 

We bought this place three years ago. When we moved in, Elias stood in the center of this exact room, wrapped his arms around my waist, and whispered, This will be the nursery. Plenty of sunlight.

Now, there was no crib. No pastel walls. Just towering stacks of Voss Tech promotional materials, servers, whiteboards covered in erased financial projections, and boxes of junk Elias refused to throw away. The "nursery" was just a graveyard for his startup's growing pains.

I walked over to the corner and pulled out a dusty plastic storage bin from under a stack of old keyboards. The lid cracked slightly as I pried it open. 

I pulled out a stack of letters. College ruled paper, blue ink. Notes Elias used to slide under my dorm room door when we were twenty. I found the faded ticket stubs from our road trip to Maine. The cheap plastic keychain from our first apartment in Cambridge, where the heater broke down every winter.

And then, right at the bottom, I found it.

A Polaroid.

The colors were washed out now. It was taken under the Brooklyn Bridge. Elias had me on his back, my arms wrapped tight around his neck. We were both laughing so hard his eyes were squinched shut. He had literally nothing back then. 

I flipped the photo over. The black Sharpie ink was still bold.

To the future Mrs. Voss. You'll be the only one standing next to me at the top.

I stared at those words until they blurred. Seven years. I gave him my twenties. I gave him my endless, stupid patience.

I dropped the photo back into the box. I didn't cry. My chest just felt incredibly hollow. 

I sat on the floor, leaning against a server rack. I didn't move for hours.

At 3:15 AM, the front door opened.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Elias appeared in the doorway of the spare room, his tie loose, his hair slightly messy. 

And the smell hit me instantly.

Mia’s signature scent. 

"What are you doing on the floor?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe. He looked down at the open box, the scattered tickets, the Polaroid. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Wow. Going through the archives? What's with the sudden trip down memory lane?"

I didn't look at the box. I just looked at him. 

"Did you get her home safe?" 

Elias walked in and kicked a stray cable out of the way. "Yeah. You'd think a luxury loft in Soho would have better security. The night doorman was nowhere to be found, and some creep followed her right into the lobby. I had to walk her up to her penthouse and wait until she calmed down. You know how these sheltered girls are."

The words rolled off his tongue so smoothly. So practiced. He even threw in a complaint to make it sound like a chore.

I placed my hands on my knees, pushed myself up, and stood facing him. 

"Elias," I said, keeping my voice low and steady. "Let's break up."

He froze for a second. Then, he laughed. A short, dismissive chuckle.

He reached up and pulled his tie completely off, tossing it onto a nearby box. "Are you serious? You're still mad about the bouquet thing? Kalinda, come on. Don't be so petty."

He sighed, annoyed. "Tomorrow morning, I'll call the florist. I'll have them send a hundred stems of those Dutch white peonies you love to your gallery. Or the orchids. Whatever you want. Just drop it, okay? I'm exhausted, and I have a nine A.M. strategy meeting."

He turned around and started walking toward the master bathroom.

"I'm getting married," I said.

Elias stopped.

His back went rigidly straight. The silence in the room was deafening. 

"What the hell did you just say?"

"I said, I'm getting married. In a month."

"Kalinda, stop being ridiculous. Marriage isn't a game you play to get back at someone."

"September 9th," I said, my voice cutting through his anger. "The venue’s booked. The dress is chosen."

Elias's jaw clenched. He took two large steps toward me. 

"Is this Sophia's idea?" he spat out. "Because she eloped, you think you have to rush into it too? You need to grow up, Kalinda. Real life isn't a fairy tale."

He pointed a finger at me, his voice rising. "You need to snap out of this. We've been together for seven years. I built this company for us. You know how much pressure I'm under—"

"The invitations went to print this morning," I interrupted.

Elias's hand dropped. He stared at me, searching my eyes for the bluff. 

He found nothing. Just dead, calm certainty.