Chapter 1

The sun beat down on the flea market, making the cheap metal tables hot to touch. I adjusted the quilts on my display, each stitch a testament to hours I should have spent on bigger projects, maybe even that fellowship Dr. Reed kept mentioning. But we needed the money, Ethan always said we needed the money. He was a handyman, a carpenter, work was feast or famine in our small Appalachian town.

Cody, our eight-year-old, was supposed to be helping, but he was off somewhere, probably begging for snacks Ethan couldn' t really afford but would buy anyway. I sighed, wiping sweat from my forehead. Sales were slow.

"Just a few more hours," I muttered to myself, trying to stay positive.

Across the dusty aisle, a new vendor was setting up, someone selling overpriced "vintage" clothes. My eyes drifted past them, towards the only upscale bistro in town, "The Gilded Spoon," a place Ethan and I had never even dreamed of entering. Its patio was shaded, patrons sipping cool drinks.

Then I saw him. Ethan.

Not in his usual work jeans and worn t-shirt, but in a crisp linen shirt I' d never seen. He was laughing, leaning across a small table, his attention entirely on the woman opposite him. Veronica Hayes. "Aunt Ronnie," as Cody called her.

My breath caught. Veronica, the bohemian artist, the influencer who supposedly lived a "simple, authentic rural life" just like us. She was a friend, someone Ethan knew from an artists' retreat years ago, where I'd first met him too.

I couldn't hear them from this distance, but their body language was clear. Intimate. Easy.

A cold dread started to creep up my spine. I told myself it was nothing. They were friends. Maybe he was discussing a carpentry job for her. But the shirt, the restaurant, the way he looked at her...

I packed up a small, easily carried quilt, one of my best sellers, and told the vendor next to me I' d be back in a few minutes, just needed to run an errand. My feet moved on their own, drawn by a force I didn't understand but couldn't resist.

I didn't go to their table. I slipped into the narrow alleyway that ran alongside the bistro's patio, hidden by overgrown bushes. Their voices carried clearly now.

"...this whole charade, Ethan, how much longer?" Veronica' s voice was smooth, a little impatient.

"As long as it takes, Ronnie, you know that," Ethan replied, his voice lower, more serious than I was used to. "Being here, near you, it' s the only thing that matters."

"And Sarah? And Cody?"

A short, harsh laugh from Ethan. "Sarah? Marrying her was a mistake, Ronnie. A stupid decision I made when I was angry with you, angry with my family. If you said the word, I' d leave her tomorrow. Cody... he' s a kid. He' ll adjust. He already likes you more anyway."

The world tilted. The quilt in my hands suddenly felt impossibly heavy. My marriage, a mistake. My husband, ready to leave. My son, preferring another woman. All the sacrifices, the dreams I' d deferred for this "simple life" he supposedly wanted, for his happiness, it was all a lie.

He wasn' t a struggling handyman. This wasn't about us. It was about her.

I stumbled back from the bushes, the sounds of the flea market fading into a dull roar. The heat, the dust, the smell of fried food, it all felt suffocating. My intricate, historically inspired designs, the art that was my soul, I' d put it aside for a man who considered me a mistake.

The fellowship Dr. Reed offered. A way out. A way back to myself.

My hand trembled as I reached for my phone.