Chapter 3

I used to dream of a family. Not just the two of us, but a real family. A house with a yard, a dog, maybe a couple of kids. In our early days, Chloe dreamed of it too. We' d spend late nights sketching out our future, her head on my chest, my arms around her. She was ambitious then, too, but her ambition included me. It included us.

Then her father' s construction business went bankrupt. It wasn't his fault, just a bad economy and a deal gone wrong. But watching her family lose everything ignited a different kind of fire in Chloe. A desperate, terrified fire. Her dream of a family was replaced by a burning need for success, for security at any cost.

That's when she started her tech company. I supported her completely. I took a stable, high-paying corporate job I hated, a job that slowly chipped away at my soul, so she could chase her dream without compromise. Our shared future became her future, and I became its primary investor.

The dream of a family faded. The house with the yard became a high-rise apartment closer to her office. The dog was impractical. And then there was the baby.

We had a scare once, a few years ago. A false positive. For a week, we thought she was pregnant. I was terrified but also secretly thrilled. The old dream flickered back to life. But Chloe... Chloe was panicked. When the doctor confirmed it was a mistake, her relief was so profound, so absolute, it felt like a punch to the gut. She hugged me and said, "Thank God. A baby would ruin everything right now."

That was the moment I knew our shared dream was dead. She had sacrificed it on the altar of her career. The pain of it was a physical thing, a heavy weight that settled permanently in my chest. I felt my heart literally ache.

Now, standing in the kitchen, I looked at the divorce papers I had printed out. I had called a lawyer yesterday. The decision was made. It was time to build a new dream, one that was just for me.

I spent the day making plans. I found a small apartment for rent in a quieter part of the city, closer to the indie game development community. I transferred half of our joint savings into a new, personal account. It wasn't about the money; it was about the separation. A clean cut.

I was packing a box of my books when Chloe came back that evening. It had been a week since our last fight. A week of blessed silence.

She stood in the doorway, staring at the boxes. Her usual confidence was gone, replaced by a look of confusion.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm moving out," I replied, not stopping my work.

"Moving out? To where? Why?" She sounded genuinely bewildered, as if the thought of me leaving had never seriously crossed her mind. In her world, I was a constant, a fixed point she could always return to.

"You can't be serious," she said, her voice rising with a familiar note of indignation. "You're leaving me? Because I'm successful? Because I work hard?"

She gestured around the expensive apartment her success had bought. "Is this not good enough for you? Would you rather we were still struggling, living in that tiny place, you cranking out your little pixel art?"

The condescension in her voice was thick. My "little pixel art."

"I've got a great opportunity for you, actually," she continued, switching tactics. "Liam and I were just talking. We need a graphic designer for a new marketing campaign. It pays well. You could finally do your art for a real company, make some real money."

I stopped packing and turned to face her. The offer was so insulting, so completely tone-deaf, I could only stare at her. She wanted to hire me. Like an employee. To work under her and Liam.

I remembered all the times she' d dismissed my work. "It's a cute hobby, Ethan." "Nobody makes a living from indie games." "When are you going to get a real career?"

Now, she was offering me a job, as if it were a great prize. The irony was suffocating.