Chapter 2

My parents, trying to help, insisted on a "distraction." They bought tickets to the annual Architectural Heritage Gala, a high-profile charity auction. "You need to get out, Chloe," my mother had said, her eyes full of worry. "Show everyone you' re fine. Besides, Daniel Clark will be there. His firm is doing incredible work."

So I went. I put on a brave face and a designer dress and walked into a ballroom dripping with crystals and fake smiles. The room was a painful reminder of my life with Ethan. We had come to this event together for the last five years. This was our world.

I was sipping champagne, trying to look composed, when I saw them. Ethan and Sarah, standing near the main stage. He was in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, and she was in a glittering red dress, clinging to his arm. They looked like a power couple. A wave of nausea hit me.

I turned away, trying to find a quiet corner, a place to breathe. I couldn' t do this. I couldn' t watch them together.

Just as I was about to slip out, the auctioneer' s voice boomed through the speakers. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our final item of the evening!"

The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight hit the stage. On a velvet pedestal was a vintage architectural sketch, a rare, hand-drawn design by Louis Kahn, one of my personal heroes. It was a preliminary drawing for the Salk Institute, a masterpiece of light and form.

My breath caught in my throat. Ethan knew what this sketch meant to me. We' d seen a documentary about Kahn years ago, and I had talked for hours about this specific drawing, how it captured the soul of the building. He' d promised me he' d find a print of it for my office one day.

The bidding started. It was fierce, climbing higher and higher. I watched, my heart aching with a fresh wave of pain. It was a memory he was now auctioning off to the highest bidder.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the noise. "One million dollars."

The room went silent. It was Ethan. He stood there, confident and smiling, his hand raised. No one else dared to bid.

"Sold!" the auctioneer cried out. "To Mr. Ethan Black!"

A polite ripple of applause went through the crowd. People were murmuring, impressed by his extravagant gesture. My own heart started to beat a little faster, a tiny, foolish flicker of hope igniting within me. Was this for me? Was this his grand apology? A public declaration that he had made a mistake?

He stepped onto the stage to claim his prize. He took the framed sketch from the auctioneer, his eyes scanning the crowd. He held the frame, and for a second, his gaze seemed to lock onto mine.

He started walking off the stage, the sketch in his hand. He was walking towards me. My breath hitched. The people around me noticed, their heads turning, watching the drama unfold. This was it. He was going to give it to me.

He walked right past me.

He didn' t even glance in my direction. He continued walking until he reached Sarah, who was watching with a triumphant smile on her face.

He stopped in front of her. The whole room was watching. He held up the sketch. "Sarah," he said, his voice amplified by the microphone he' d apparently requested. "You said you admired architects who build for the light. I wanted to give you the origin of that light."

He handed her the priceless drawing. She took it, her eyes wide with feigned surprise.

But he wasn' t done.

He got down on one knee.

A collective gasp went through the ballroom. My blood ran cold. This couldn' t be happening.

He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it. A massive diamond ring flashed under the spotlights.

"Sarah Jenkins," Ethan' s voice rang out, full of emotion. "You came into my life like a breath of fresh air. You' re understanding, you' re supportive, and you see me for who I am. You make me want to be a better man. Will you marry me?"

Sarah put a hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her perfect face. "Yes," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Yes, Ethan, of course, yes!"

He slid the ring onto her finger and stood up, pulling her into a passionate kiss as the room erupted in applause.

I stood frozen, the champagne glass slipping from my numb fingers and shattering on the marble floor.

The sound was lost in the celebration, but for me, it was deafening. It was the sound of my past, my present, and my future breaking all at once.

This wasn't just a breakup. This was a public execution. He hadn't just left me; he had erased me, replacing me in front of everyone we knew, using a memory that was once mine to propose to her.

I felt a hundred pairs of eyes on me, watching me, waiting for me to crumble. My vision blurred with tears I refused to let fall. I had to get out of there.

I turned to leave, my body moving on autopilot. As I did, my eyes met Ethan' s over Sarah' s shoulder. He was still holding her, but he was looking at me.

There was no remorse in his eyes. No apology. Just a cool, calculated look. A look that said, This is what you get. It was a final, cruel twist of the knife, and it told me everything I needed to know. His love had not just died. It had turned into something ugly and vengeful.