Chapter2

Eleanor's POV

No one moved.

Julian had one hand pressed to his cheek, jaw tight, staring at me like he was trying to figure out what exactly he was dealing with.

Everyone else just watched. I heard them murmuring among themselves.

"...did she just—"

Wasn't she supposed to be blind??"*

"...she looked right at him when she did it. Like she knew exactly—"

Cody hadn't said a word since I walked in. He was sitting very still, jaw slightly loose, eyes moving between me and Julian with an expression I'd never seen on him before. Not amusement. Something closer to the look a person gets when they realize they've miscalculated badly.

Veronica was leaning back in the booth, watching me with that careful, assessing look—but for the first time, there was a crack in it. Her fingers had tightened around her glass. She was recalibrating. Running it back.

I could tell she wasn't certain anymore.

Julian's gaze snapped back to me. Something had shifted in his expression—the guarded look was gone, replaced by something sharper, more focused. He took a slow step forward.

"Eleanor." His voice was careful now, stripped of the softness he'd tried a moment ago. "Can you see?"

Should I tell him? Tell him I could see—had been able to see since this morning?

If I said it out loud, my only advantage would be gone. But if I didn't, I'd have to keep pretending. And I didn't want to pretend anymore. Not today. Not for him. I'd been pretending for a year—pretending not to notice the silences, the carefully timed evasions, the way conversations stopped when I walked into a room.

"I heard every word you said," I told him.

The room went quiet.

Cody shifted in his seat, finally breaking his silence with a low, uncomfortable exhale. Veronica's hand tightened around her glass, her carefully composed expression slipping just slightly—enough that I caught the flicker of something like alarm pass across her face before she locked it down again.

Julian's expression flickered—first surprise, then something harder settling in behind his eyes. He opened his mouth. I could already hear what he was about to say: You're taking things out of context, Veronica and Cody always joke like that, you don't know the full story—

I cut him off.

"You picked me because I look like her," I said. "That's all it was."

Veronica straightened in the booth. I saw the corner of her mouth twitch—just a little, barely there. She stood and walked over to Julian, placing her hand on his arm like someone who'd already won.

"Of course," she said lightly, answering for him.

Julian said nothing. He didn't move her hand away.

Then he looked at me and said, "Think about what you're doing. Two years ago you left your family to be with me. Do you really think you can go back now?" His tone wasn't cruel. That was the thing—it was almost gentle, like he was being reasonable. "You'd have nothing, Eleanor. You know that."

I looked down at my left hand.

The ring was still there. Oval diamond, platinum band. He'd put it on my finger in a bar just like this one, said, "I've never been more sure of anyone." I'd held onto that for a year, kept it like proof of something real. Sometimes I'd even let myself imagine how he'd propose for real—maybe this nightmare of a year was some kind of test, and after we got through it, we'd come out stronger.

I was such an idiot.

I looked up at him.

I hit him again. Harder this time, no hesitation.

His head snapped to the side.

"That one's for the girl I was two years ago," I said. "She deserved better."

I didn't say anything else. I turned and walked toward the door.

Julian was fast. I hadn't made it three steps before his hand closed around my wrist.

"Eleanor." His voice was rough. "Calm down."

Veronica grabbed his arm from the other side, pulling hard.

"Julian, let her go."

There was no kindness in her voice—I could hear her calculating. Making a scene wouldn't do her any good right now. But why she said it didn't matter anymore. The three of us ended up tangled by the door anyway—Julian gripping my wrist, Veronica tugging at his arm, me twisting to get free—until we heard someone push in from outside, too late.

The server came through with a full tray. We collided, all at once.

The tray tipped. Glasses smashed against the dark hardwood floor with a sharp crack—liquid and glass spraying everywhere, shards scattering across the boards. Veronica went down hard. Half a second later I lost my balance too, catching myself with my palm flat on the floor, my weight coming down right on top of the glass.

The pain was sharp and immediate.

Veronica noticed first. She pressed her hand to her cheek, pulled it away, and there was blood on her face. Her voice went shrill.

"Julian, my face is cut—I need to go to the hospital now."

Julian dropped to one knee beside her, lifting her chin to check the wound. His whole body turned toward her, like I'd ceased to exist.

Cody's voice came from somewhere above me, cautious and low.

"Julian… I think Eleanor's hurt too."

Julian turned his head. I was still on the floor. My right palm was flat against the wood, and I could feel the glass underneath—a clean, steady burn traveling up from my hand. My cuff was already stained dark. I didn't move. I didn't say anything. I wanted to see what he would do.

He looked at me for a full two seconds.

Then he put his arm around Veronica's shoulders and helped her up. At the door, he glanced back.

"Think about it," he said. "We'll talk when you know what you really want."

I looked right at him, my voice flat. "We're done. I'm leaving you."

A beat of silence. Julian's fingers tightened briefly on the doorframe. For half a second, I thought he might say something—an apology, an explanation, anything. But he didn't. He just turned and walked out with Veronica, the door closing behind them.

The booth went quiet. Just the hum of the vents, and Cody shifting his weight behind me, not saying a word.

I looked down at my hand. The napkin I'd pressed against my palm was already soaked through. The cut wasn't deep, but it wouldn't stop bleeding.

He saw it. He saw it, and he still left.

That was the last thing I wanted to know.

I got up on my own, picked my coat off the floor, and reached for my phone.

I think I'm going to say yes to the thing I turned down three days ago.