Olivia’s POV


    I got a text from Mike in the evening. I’d almost forgotten I’d even asked him about Alexander’s suit size weeks ago, and he never responded. But this time, he sent a couple of numbers: height, chest, waist, sleeve length.


    The text was short. “Mr. Green asked me to pass this along so you could purchase a new suit to rece the one you damaged.”


    I stared at the message for a long moment. For a second, I wondered if Alexander had changed his mind-maybe he wanted to give me a chance at the job. But then I shook my head. That was a stupid hope.


    No. Alexander probably just wanted to close the loop, get the damn suit reced, and never see me again.


    I didn’t want to look desperate or weak. So I texted back politely, “Got it. I’ll buy the suit and send it to Mr. Green as soon as possible.”


    The next morning, I left the house early. I felt like I was on a mission-like I had to get this done quickly and proper- ly, so I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. As soon as I stepped out, I noticed a ck car idling across the street. I didn’t recognize the driver, but I knew it wasn’t a coincidence.


    I ignored it and went to the mall. I spent hours going from one shop to another, searching for a smoky gray suit that was even close to the one I’d ruined. My legs started to ache, and my stomach growled. But nothing I found was quite right. The material felt cheap. The cut was wrong. Alexander’s suit had been subtle but so well-made, it made me feel like I’d never find anything close.


    I finally sat down on a bench in the middle of the mall, feeling like an idiot. What was I doing? Did it even matter if the suit matched exactly? Alexander probably wouldn’t care-he’d probably toss it out the minute it arrived. He didn’t want to see me again.


    I pushed myself to my feet and went back to a store I’d passed earlier. They had a decent smoky gray suit-good fab- ric, clean lines. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best I’d found. I gave the clerk the measurements. She looked at them and raised her eyebrows.


    “Your husband must have the build of a model,” she said with a little smile.


    I felt my chest tighten. “He’s not my husband,” I said quietly. Alexander would be so pissed if he heard this.


    The clerk didn’t say anything else. She just rang it up and handed me the garment bag.


    I left the store with the suit in my hand. I was going to drop it off right away, but I didn’t have an address for Mr. Green. I texted Mike asking for it, but he didn’t reply. I waited for a while, checking my phone every minute. Still nothing.


    0.0 %


    13:19


    Finally, I gave up and went home.


    I dropped the suit bag on the couch and went upstairs and took a shower.


    Afterward, I started packing up my things-boxes for the kitchen, the bedroom, the study. I’d lived here for years. I’d decorated it myself, even picked out the nursery furniture when I thought Ethan and I would start a family.


    Now it all felt like a lie.


    In my study, I found an old USB drive tucked in a drawer. I plugged it into myptop and saw pictures I hadn’t looked at in years. Ethan and me, in college. We were so young-smiling, our arms around each other, like we’d nev- er imagined things could fall apart.’


    I felt something twist in my chest.


    “Goodbye,” I whispered. “Goodbye to the girl who thought she’d grow old with you.”


    I closed theptop, shut the box, and leaned back in my chair, feeling nostalgic and pissed at the same time.


    Ethan’s POV


    I’ve juste back from a meeting, but my mind keeps going back to what I saw at the golf course yesterday. I couldn’t stand it once I thought she left me.


    I can’t ept it. She’s my wife, my Luna. She can only have me in her eyes, in her heart. Even if she’s angry, she’s still mine.


    I sent someone to follow her. I wanted to know exactly what she was doing every day since she left the office. It’s not about control-it’s about making sure she doesn’t make a fool of herself. Of us.


    My Delta, Fin, sent me a reportter in the afternoon. He said Olivia had spent three hours at the mall. Three hours, shopping for a man’s suit.


    I felt a wave of something like relief. She was buying me a suit. That had to be it. She still understood her ce as my wife. She wanted to make up for everything by making sure I looked good. This was her way of apologizing to me.


    In the evening, I came home for dinner. Olivia was sitting in the living room, reading a book. She didn’t even look up when I walked in.


    I walked over. “Have you eaten?” I asked.


    She looked at me, calm as ever. “Yes.”


    That’s it? No ‘wee home’, no ‘how was your day’? I frowned and went into the kitchen. There was nothing-no dinner waiting, no smell of anything cooking. The refrigerator looked empty.


    I turned back to her. “Where’s dinner?”


    She didn’t even bother to get up. She just tossed me a box of convenience food. “It’s all yours,” she said, her voice


    40.9 %


    13:19


    υπ?ρχει το


    288 YOUchers


    t.


    I looked at it—an instant meal, probably expired. My patience snapped. “What is this? Do you think this is enough for me?” It was even tomato vored. I hate tomato most!


    She leaned back in her chair, not even blinking. “You like ‘going out’ for food anyway,”


    The hint in her words was obvious.


    I stared at her for a moment. Her nk face gave nothing away. Then I turned and walked out of the kitchen.


    I couldn’t figure her out anymore. She used to be so careful. Always remembering every detail about me-my moods, my preferences. She’d never forget I don’t eat tomatoes. She used to take pride in making everything perfect for me.


    But now? She didn’t even blink when I came home without notice, didn’t bother to cook or have food ready.


    It didn’t make sense. Just hours ago, she’d spent three hours buying me a suit. She did that for me, didn’t she? Then what did change her so suddenly.


    I went upstairs. Maybe if I saw the suit, I’d feel better. I opened the closet, expecting to see it hanging there. Maybe if I could just touch it, I’d believe that she still thought of me.


    But the suit wasn’t there.


    I looked around again, scanning the shelves and the corners. It was nowhere to be seen. I thought I’d go downstairs and ask her directly-demand to know where she put it.


    Then I paused. My eyes fell on the empty space in the closet.


    A lot of her things were missing.