Chapter 2

Ethan started talking about Tiffany more, small mentions at first.

"Tiffany has this great idea for a social media campaign."

"Tiffany really gets the youth market."

Then it was lunches, staying late at the office, "brainstorming sessions."

I saw the texts, the way his eyes lit up when her name appeared on his phone.

He' d say it was just work, that I was being paranoid.

He' d say she admired him, his success.

He loved the admiration.

Now, he stood there, thinking my quiet agreement meant I was broken, or maybe even relieved to be rid of the pressure of our ambitious life.

He probably imagined I'd crumble without his charisma leading the charge.

"This is for the best, Sarah," he said, his voice softening, trying to sound kind. "We both get a fresh start."

He truly believed it.

He thought my silence was acceptance of his narrative.

My mind went back, not to the pain, but to the beginning.

Our tiny apartment, ramen noodles and dreams.

The day we secured our first round of funding, him lifting me, spinning me around in pure joy.

He used to look at me with such open admiration, such trust.

"You're the brains, Sarah," he'd say, "I'm just the mouthpiece."

He'd forgotten that. Or maybe he never truly believed it, not deep down.

He always needed the spotlight, the applause.

I had been content to be the architect, letting him be the face.

That was my mistake, perhaps.

He now saw my composure as weakness, my lack of fight as proof I didn't care enough.

He didn't see the steel inside, the resolve hardening with every word he spoke.

He didn't understand that I wasn't just giving up on him; I was cutting away a part of myself that had become a liability.

His superficiality, his easy distraction, it had become a threat to what we built.

Now, it was just a threat to himself.

The wedding was lavish, just as Tiffany would want.

Ethan, beaming, handsome as ever. Tiffany, a vision in white, her eyes sparkling with triumph.

Her Instagram exploded with pictures.

#PerfectLove #NewBeginnings #Soulmate.

Every post was a carefully curated image of bliss.

Ethan, always the performer, played his part perfectly.

He made declarations of undying love, the same words he' d once said to me, now broadcast for the world to see.

It felt like watching a rerun of a show I once starred in, now with a new lead actress.

The scale of it was meant to impress, to solidify their union in the public eye.

To erase the past, perhaps.

My past. Our past.

I watched from afar, a ghost at their feast.

The company, the house, the assets – they were mine.

But they were celebrating their new life, built on the ashes of our old one.