The smug look on Ethan’s face cracked. “You’re actually going to


    charge me?”


    Alexander smiled. “You said you could pay”


    Gai coughed into his sleeve to hide augh. I didn’t bother hiding


    mine.


    Ethan growled something low under his breath but signed the


    clearance document when it was handed to him. His pride was


    officially dragged across the tarmac.


    Watching it from the side? Therapeutic.


    Once we boarded and I was settled into the corner seat with a


    nket over my legs, I pulled out my phone. The lighting was


    perfect–the sun catching the top of Ethan’s head in the


    background as he brooded near the cabin window. I tilted the


    camera just enough to catch his silhouette.


    I posted it on Instagram with a caption:


    “Trying to enjoy my post–trauma vacation… but some people just won’t take a hint. Anyone know how to remove emotional


    parasites? Asking for a friend. #NotSoEx #StillObsessed


    #DramaFreePlease”


    It wasn’t subtle. But it wasn’t meant to be. Chole was definitely


    going to see it.


    Let her stew in it.


    Olivia’s POV


    The ne ride was quiet on the surface–but underneath, it was


    a storm waiting to erupt.


    Ethan had turned into the world’s most irritating cabin crew.


    “Do you want the nket? This one’s softer,” he asked, holding


    it out like we were on our honeymoon.


    “I’m fine.”


    “Fruit? The melon’s sweet.” He held a fork toward my mouth


    like I was incapable of feeding myself. I turned away.


    “No.”


    “You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”


    “I said I’m fine,” I whispered, voice firm but low. Gai and


    Alexander were in the seats across from us. I didn’t want a


    scene.


    Ethan leaned closer, smiling like a saint. “Come on, Liv. Just a


    little. You’ll get sick if you starve.”


    His persistence wore me down. I took the fruit from his hand


    just to shut him up. My jaw was clenched tight with every bite I


    chewed.


    From the corner of my eye, I caught Alexander watching.


    He wasn’t even pretending to be subtle about it. His brows were slightly furrowed, arms crossed, and phone idle on hisp. But when he noticed I had caught him, he quickly looked away, flicking at the nk phone screen like it had just buzzed. I wasn’t sure what it meant. Disapproval? Confusion?


    The rest of the flight was a blur. My body was still sore from the injury, and my mind was more exhausted than my muscles.


    When wended, the evening sky had already turned dark.


    At the airport, I turned to Alexander and said lightly, “Alpha, you can go ahead. I’ll be fine. My friend, Ava said she’d pick me up. You must be tired too.”


    His expression didn’t change, but something behind his eyes flickered. He gave a short nod and walked toward the exit. No


    goodbye. Noment. Just silence.


    Ethan wheeled me out of the terminal like he was the doting husband of the year. “Careful, bump ahead,” he said like he hadn’t said worse bumps to me in our entire marriage.


    And that’s when I saw her.


    Chole.


    Standing just outside the exit. Pale. Thin. Hair messy. Bandage


    wrapped around her wrist like a pity ticket. She looked more


    like a ghost than a person.


    “Ethan,” she gasped and took a hesitant step forward. “Please


    don’t walk away. I just want to talk.”


    Ethan’s voice dropped several octaves. “Get out of here, Chole.


    Don’t embarrass yourself!”


    “I don’t want to break up your marriage,” she said through


    trembling lips. “I just want us to stay friends. You mean


    something to me.”


    My jaw twitched.


    “Friends?” I asked with a bitter smile.


    Chole turned to me and then did something absurd–she


    dropped to her knees.


    In front of the entire airport crowd.


    “Olivia,” she said tearfully, “I never meant to hurt you. Please


    don’t leave him because of me. me me, not Ethan. It was all


    my fault. He didn’t mean it. Please… don’t divorce him.”


    People had started to slow down around us, their phones


    We NE


    conveniently pulled out, pretending to scroll while really


    recording.


    “Get up.” I said coldly.


    “I won’t until you forgive him,” she cried, shaking like a leaf. “p me. Hit me. I deserve it.”


    I looked at Ethan, who for once seemed truly ashamed.


    So I said, “Fine. p yourself. A hundred times.”


    “What?” she whispered.


    “You heard me. You want forgiveness? Earn it.”


    The first p was weak. The second even more pathetic.


    “Harder,” I snapped.


    She winced and pped again, but it was more for show than


    punishment. I’d had enough.


    I stood up–despite the soreness shooting up my leg–and grabbed her by the cor. “You think this is enough to make up


    for what you did?”


    Her eyes widened in fear. “Olivia, I’m sorry-”


    C