Once all his friends married women with the right pedigrees, I could feel it.

He was starting to regret choosing me.

I was never his parents’ favorite. I couldn’t keep up with their high-society chatter, and my family background didn't carry the weight they demanded. These became the pillars of his disdain—a laundry list of reasons to hate me.

The day Everett praised another woman right in front of me, I finally untied my apron for good. I didn't reach for the rags or the sponges. Instead, I sat at my vanity, reapplied my makeup, and pulled on my favorite dress—the one I had tucked away for too long.

I was finished burning myself out to keep this charade of a marriage alive.

***

When I arrived at the office to drop off his lunch, Everett’s inner circle was gathered in his suite. The door was cracked open. I didn't push it further.

"Everett, you’ve been looking like hell lately. Everything alright with the wife?"

Everett sat at his desk, a cigarette pinched between his fingers, his head buried in files. He paused for a heartbeat before shaking his head.

"It’s nothing. I’m just... annoyed," he muttered. "I can’t even explain it. She hasn't done anything wrong, but just being around her leaves me feeling restless."

The lunchbox in my hand suddenly felt like a lead weight. I could barely hold the handle.

The reason he couldn't explain it? I knew it perfectly well. Once love is no longer the glue holding a life together, you realize you have nothing left in common. To put it bluntly, he had just grown bored of me.

I turned to leave, but Hailey Silva—Everett’s childhood sweetheart and his newly appointed personal assistant—stepped into my path. A smirk played on her lips, sharp and mocking.

She shoved the door wide open.

"Everett, your wife brought you lunch!" she chirped. "I’m so envious. You get to enjoy her cooking every single day."

Everett stood up. I saw it clearly: he didn't even glance in my direction. He reached out, plucked the lunchbox from my numb fingers, and set it on his desk.

"You little brat," he said, his voice laced with a playfulness I hadn't heard directed at me in years. "You’ve already finished off my lunches all week. Are you still not satisfied?"

Hailey gave a coy shrug, pouting. "Well, you were the one who said she only knows how to cook and told me I could order whatever I wanted. Don't blame me now!"

She shot a triumphant look in my direction before sliding into Everett's chair, helping herself to the meal.

My fingernails dug into my palms until I felt the skin break, but Everett stepped toward me, gently pulling my hands apart. His eyes looked as warm and affectionate as they had on our wedding day. There wasn't a flicker of the irritation he’d just expressed moments ago.

"Evelyn," he said softly. "Hailey’s stomach has been acting up lately. Surely you can be understanding?"

I pulled my hand back. He didn't let go, gripping my wrist firmly. He began to stroke the back of my hand, ignoring my clear discomfort.

Hailey turned in the chair, her mouth full. "Everyone’s grabbing drinks tonight. It’s been ages since we all hung out."

The room erupted in agreement. Everett nodded along. He stood up, shoved the empty container into my hands, and dismissed me.

"You should head home," he said, not meeting my eyes. "Don't wait up."

I should have been furious. I should have screamed. But the anger had hollowed out into something cold and still. I turned and walked out the door.

As I left, Hailey’s voice drifted down the hall, sweet and sharp as a razor.

"Everett, why not bring her along? It’d be fun to have her join us!"

Everett’s reply was dismissive, barely a whisper. "She wouldn't fit in. She doesn't understand the world we move in. If she’s miserable, the rest of us will be uncomfortable."

I froze in the middle of the hallway. It took me a long time to find the strength to put one foot in front of the other.