Chapter 6

Ava Miller POV

I watched my husband rewrite our history on the very steps where he had once promised to protect it.

I stood in the deep shadows of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, my hand throbbing under the makeshift bandage, watching Bennett guide Aria up the grand staircase. He wasn't just walking with her; he was presenting her.

He gestured to the ceiling, to the architecture, using the same sweeping motions, the same reverent tilt of his head that he had used with me fifteen years ago.

He was recycling our memories.

"It's breathtaking, isn't it?" Aria's voice carried over the quiet hum of the museum. She looked vibrant, young, and completely unburdened by the wreckage she was standing on.

"Not as breathtaking as the future we're building," Bennett said.

The words landed like a physical blow to my chest.

It wasn't heartbreak. Heartbreak implies there is something left to break. This was erasure.

I turned away, my feet moving instinctively toward the darker, quieter wing of the museum. I didn't want to see them. I wanted to find the one thing that proved I had existed in his life before she arrived.

There was a secluded alcove near the Egyptian exhibit. Hidden behind a pillar, low on the stone wall, was a carving.

We had done it on a dare during our senior year. Bennett had taken a small pocket knife and etched *B & K - Forever* into the stone. It was vandalism. It was reckless. It was the most romantic thing he had ever done.

I found the spot.

The carving was faint, worn by time, but it was there.

*Forever.*

The word mocked me. It looked like a scar on the pristine stone.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a coin. It was a quarter. The metal felt cold and hard against my thumb.

I didn't think. I just scraped.

I dragged the edge of the coin over the 'B'. The sound was wretched-a high-pitched screech of metal on stone that set my teeth on edge. I scraped harder. Dust fell to the floor. I wanted it gone. I wanted to gouge his name out of the stone, out of my life, out of my memory.

"Kelsey?"

The voice was high, feigned innocence wrapping around a core of malice.

My hand froze. I didn't turn around.

"Bennett, look," Aria said. I could hear their footsteps approaching, echoing on the marble. "She's defacing the museum. Isn't that illegal?"

I turned slowly. My hand was shaking, white-knuckled around the quarter.

Bennett stood there, his arm protective around Aria's waist. He looked at me, then at the wall, then back at me. His expression wasn't nostalgic. It was disgusted.

"Stop it, Kelsey," he said, his voice weary. "You're embarrassing yourself."

"I'm removing a lie," I said, my voice hoarse. "You engraved a promise here. I'm just correcting the record."

Aria stepped forward. She dug into her designer clutch and pulled out something small and silver.

"Oh, speaking of corrections," she said, smiling. She held out her hand. Resting in her palm were a pair of cufflinks. Sapphire and silver. I had bought them for Bennett for his thirtieth birthday. He had worn them to our anniversary dinner every single year.

"Bennett said these were too... heavy," Aria said, tilting her head. "He likes the lighter ones I bought him. He told me to toss them, but I thought you might want your old junk back."

She tossed them at me.

They hit my chest with a dull thud and clattered to the floor.

The disrespect was so casual, so absolute, that I saw red.

"You have no right to touch those," I snapped.

I stepped forward, ignoring the pain in my bandaged hand. Aria's eyes widened. She took a dramatic step back, her heel catching deliberately on the uneven stone floor.

She didn't fall hard. She stumbled, her hip bumping into a glass display case containing ancient pottery.

The case wobbled.

"Ah!" Aria shrieked, clutching her stomach. "My baby! Bennett, she pushed me!"

It was a lie. I hadn't touched her.

But the display case tipped. It crashed into the wall, the glass shattering with a deafening explosion.

Shards flew everywhere.

I raised my arms to shield my face, but I wasn't fast enough. A jagged piece of glass sliced across my forearm. Warm blood immediately soaked through my sleeve.

"Aria!" Bennett roared.

He didn't look at me. He didn't see the blood dripping from my arm. He didn't see the shock on my face.

He lunged for Aria, scooping her up into his arms as if she were made of porcelain.

"Are you okay? Did it hit the stomach?" He was frantic, checking her over, his hands trembling.

"My ankle," Aria whimpered, burying her face in his neck. "And I'm scared. She tried to hurt us, Bennett. She tried to kill our baby."

I stood there, clutching my bleeding arm. The pain was sharp, stinging, but the coldness in my chest was worse.

"Bennett," I said. "I'm bleeding."

He turned to look at me. His eyes were black holes. There was no recognition in them. No husband. No friend. Just an enemy.

"You are sick," he spat. "Look at what you've become. A jealous, violent woman."

"I didn't push her," I said, but the words felt hollow.

He turned his back on me. He adjusted Aria in his arms, holding her tight against his chest.

"We are done, Kelsey," he said over his shoulder. His voice was final. It was a gavel striking wood. "Stay away from me. And if you ever come near my family again, I will destroy you."

He walked away.

He left me standing in the wreckage of broken glass and a broken marriage, bleeding onto the museum floor while he carried his lie to safety.