Before the car even cleared the bustling streets of downtown Manhattan, Ethan demanded to pull over. His precious little ward, Clara, was having another panic attack. Or a “heart flare-up,” as she liked to call it. I gripped his sleeve so hard my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. “Ethan, today is my grandmother’s eightieth birthday. If you walk out of this car right now, we are done. I’m filing for divorce.” He pried my fingers off his arm, his eyes as cold as shards of ice. “Aria, why do you have to be so incredibly selfish? Clara is literally fighting for her life, and you’re here throwing a childish tantrum.” Without another word, he pushed the door open and stepped out into the rain, never once looking back. We had been married for three years. To the outside world, we were the ultimate power couple—the envy of everyone in our social circle. But everything changed the moment Clara, with her fragile heart condition, moved into our estate. Whenever she felt a slight flutter in her chest, he would drop everything and run to her side. On my last birthday, he promised to take me out for a sunset yacht cruise. Just as we were heading out the door, Clara texted him saying her chest felt tight. Ethan left me standing on the dock alone. I had screamed. I had cried. I had fought him over her endless drama. But his response was always the same tired line: “Clara has no one else in this world, Aria. She’s sick. Can’t you just be the bigger person for once?” The bigger person? I was his wife, not her mother. Watching his car disappear into the city traffic, I slowly let my hands drop to my sides. Forget it. This marriage was over anyway. *** 0
Two weeks later, I finally returned to New York from my family’s estate in Boston. “Ethan, you left Aria alone in Boston for half a month. Aren’t you worried she’ll be furious when she gets back?” “Aria has always been understanding, Mom. Once she’s home, I’ll buy her some of those sweets she likes, say a few nice words, and she’ll forget all about it. Besides, Clara’s health has been so fragile lately. She needed me more.” Ethan and his mother were chatting warmly in the living room. They had no idea I was already standing just outside the double doors. Looking back, I really used to be that easy to please. Every time Ethan abandoned me for Clara, he would bring back a box of my favorite lemon madeleines, whisper some sweet apologies, and my heart would melt. I always forgave him. I used to tell myself he was just loyal, just a good man looking out for an orphan. I gave a quiet nod to my assistant, Chloe. Chloe understood instantly. She raised her voice, “Ma’am, welcome back. Let me take your coat. Shall we go inside to greet Mrs. Vance?” The conversation in the living room cut off instantly. I walked in, my trench coat draped casually over my shoulders. Seeing me, Ethan’s face instantly lit up with a warm, practiced smile. He stepped forward to take my hands. “Aria! You should have called. I would have picked you up from JFK. Was the drive exhausting? I’ll have the chef make your favorite dinner tonight.” His voice was so gentle, as if our screaming match from two weeks ago had never happened. His mother waved me over warmly. “Aria, come here, let me look at you. Two weeks in Boston and you look so thin! Ethan, I have some premium wellness supplements in the pantry. Have someone bring them to Aria’s room later.” I quietly stepped aside, avoiding Ethan’s touch, and gave his mother a polite, distant nod. “Thank you, Mrs. Vance. The drive was quite long and I think I’m coming down with a cold. I wouldn’t want to pass it to you. I’ll come visit properly once I’m feeling better.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked straight toward the west wing. Behind me, I could hear their whispered voices. “Is Aria still throwing a fit?” “She’s just tired from the trip, Mom. You know Aria. She has the sweetest temper; she won’t stay mad at me. Once she feels better, I’ll have her come down and apologize to you, okay?” Sitting at my vanity, I called Chloe in. My voice was calm and steady. “Chloe, within the next three days, liquidate half of my real estate and investment portfolios. Transfer the other half directly to my sister Victoria’s name. Also, have the maids prepare the guest suite down the hall. I’ll be sleeping there from now on.” “Yes, Mrs. Vance,” Chloe replied quietly. I opened my laptop and typed out an email to my older sister, Victoria. Victoria had married into a powerful political dynasty in Washington D.C., and she held massive sway over our family’s assets. In the email, I told her about my decision to divorce Ethan and move back to Boston permanently. I didn’t want her to worry when she suddenly couldn’t reach me in New York. “Who are you emailing?” Ethan pushed the door open, his brow furrowing slightly as he caught a glimpse of the screen before I shut the laptop. “Just sorting out some family finances. Nothing you need to worry about,” I said flatly. Hearing me use such a formal, distant tone, Ethan finally seemed to realize something was off. “Aria, are you still angry about that day?” “I know I shouldn’t have left, but Clara’s heart flare-up was serious. If I hadn’t called the private doctors immediately, she could have died.” In our three years of marriage, I had always called him by his pet names when we were alone. Now, he was just “you.” “You don’t need to explain. I’m not angry.” “If you’re not angry, why are the maids moving your things to the guest suite? Are you trying to sleep in separate rooms now?” Ethan was still thoroughly convinced I was just playing hard to get. In his mind, as long as he bowed his head first, I would eventually cave. I didn’t want to waste my breath. Right then, Clara’s private nurse knocked on the door, looking for him. I offered him a serene, empty smile. “I have a cough, Ethan. I don’t want to keep you awake tonight. Since Clara needs you, you should go.” Ethan looked slightly guilty. “I don’t agree to the separate bedrooms. We’ll talk about this when I get back. Oh, and I know how much you missed the pastries from the bakery downtown while you were in Boston. I’ll bring some back for you!” He rushed out. I walked over to the window and watched his sports car roar out of the estate gates. An hour later, the housekeeper came up to my room. “Ma’am, Mr. Vance went to the bakery… but he bought a box of almond macarons. Miss Clara’s favorite.” Once, Ethan remembered that I was violently allergic to almonds. Every time he bought pastries, he would check the ingredients three times. Now, his mind was so consumed by Clara that he only remembered what she liked. I opened my drawer and pulled out the divorce papers I had drafted weeks ago. Slowly, and with a steady hand, I signed my name at the bottom. I still remembered when Ethan chased me all the way to Boston to propose. I had told him: “If there ever comes a day when your heart changes, I will leave. And you won’t try to stop me.” Ethan had sworn in front of my entire family that he would love me for the rest of his life. I believed him then. But hearts change. It took me three years to finally accept that truth. *** 0
When I woke up the next morning, the housekeeper informed me that Ethan had slept in his study last night. I didn’t care. I spent the morning going over my prenuptial asset list with Chloe, checking off every single item. I also gathered every gift, piece of jewelry, and trinket Ethan had given me over the years. Among them was a leather-bound journal he had written by hand. He had started it the year we met and kept writing into our marriage. Every page was filled with declarations of his undying love. But ever since Clara moved into the estate, not a single new page had been written. He had once promised me that on every birthday, he would personally bake me a cake and watch me blow out the candles. But for the past two years, there had been no cakes. No wishes. Today was my birthday. And he had forgotten it entirely. With stinging eyes, I packed all of his old gifts and the journal into a cardboard box. “Take this to the incinerator in the backyard,” I told the maid. “Burn it all.” “Aria, what is all this?” Ethan had just walked through the front door. His brow was knit tight as he watched the maid carry the heavy box out toward the yard. I looked up calmly. “Just some old, useless clutter. It was taking up space.” He didn’t think twice about it. Walking into the living room, he set a beautifully wrapped pastry box on the coffee table. His voice was soft. “I went out of my way to get you those lemon madeleines you love. Go on, try some.” I looked at the box, a cold, mocking smile playing at the corners of my lips. The very last spark of warmth in my heart died right then. The box didn’t contain lemon madeleines. They were almond macarons. The bakery always color-coded their ribbons. Yellow for lemon. Red for almond. The ribbon on this box was bright red. It was packed with the one ingredient that could put me in anaphylactic shock. I have been severely allergic to almonds since childhood. Even a trace of it would break me out in hives and restrict my breathing. When we first got married, I told him this. He had promised me that no almond products would ever cross the threshold of our home. And for a long time, he kept that promise. But now, three years later, a box of deadly almonds was sitting right in front of me. Handed to me by my own husband. Seeing me stare at the box without opening it, Ethan’s face darkened. He assumed I was just being stubborn. “Aria, I’ve already come home and tried to make peace. How long are you going to keep up this attitude? Do you want me to get down on my knees and beg?” “I already explained to you, that night was an emergency. Clara was having a medical crisis. Did you expect me to just let her die?” I looked up, my gaze entirely hollow. “You forgot. I’m violently allergic to almonds.” Ethan froze. He lunged forward and tore open the pastry box. When he saw the rows of colorful almond macarons inside, all the color drained from his face. “I… the clerk at the bakery must have grabbed the wrong box! I swear I asked for lemon.” I didn’t bother calling him out. He was the CEO of Vance Enterprises. The staff at that high-end bakery would never make a mistake on his order. The truth was simple: he bought almond macarons for Clara so often that the staff just assumed that was what he wanted. “I see. I’m going to rest now.” I nodded politely, walked right past him, and headed upstairs. I left him standing in the middle of the living room, looking utterly lost. *** 0
Ethan must have sensed that he was losing me. Before dawn the next day, he went to a high-end jeweler on Fifth Avenue and bought a stunning array of diamond necklaces and bracelets. The butler cautiously approached him while he was sorting through the jewelry. “Mr. Vance… yesterday was Mrs. Vance’s birthday. The cake you ordered last week was delivered to her room last night. She… she asked us to throw it away.” Ethan went completely rigid. He had forgotten my birthday. Panic flared in his chest. When he saw me walking down the stairs, he rushed over, his eyes filled with desperate apology. “Aria, I am so incredibly sorry. Things at the office were chaotic yesterday, and it slipped my mind. I’ve booked the rooftop terrace at the penthouse restaurant tonight. Let me make it up to you.” Looking at the genuine guilt in his eyes, my mind flashed back to the boy who used to follow me around Boston, looking at me as if I were his entire world. Against my better judgment, my heart softened just a fraction. I gave a quiet nod. “Okay.” That evening, he took me to the exclusive rooftop restaurant overlooking the harbor. Throughout the dinner, he was incredibly attentive. He cut my steak, draped his suit jacket over my shoulders, and kept his eyes locked on me. Just like the old days. But when I took a sip of a cocktail and winced at the sourness, he instinctively reached into his pocket and pulled out a hard candy. It was a sour plum candy. Clara’s favorite. I detested sour flavors. Seeing that I didn’t reach for it, Ethan looked down at his hand, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Clara gets nauseous from her medication sometimes. I… I just keep them on me.” I nodded quietly, but my heart felt like it was encased in ice. There was a time when his pockets were only ever filled with the lemon drops I loved. His friends used to tease him about carrying candy in his bespoke suits, and he would always smile and say, “My wife likes them.” Now, the lemon drops were gone. Before the main course was finished, Clara’s private nurse burst through the restaurant doors, crying hysterically. “Mr. Vance! It’s Miss Clara! She’s coughing up blood. She says she won’t make it through the night… she’s begging to see you one last time!” Ethan’s face went white. He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor. I stood up too, gesturing for the waiter to bring my coat. “Ethan, wait.” Ethan’s expression hardened, his voice sharp and defensive. “Aria, this is a matter of life and death! Don’t you dare try to stop me!” “I’m not stopping you.” I slipped my arms into my coat. “She’s sick. As your wife, I should be concerned too. I’m coming with you.” Ethan turned, surprised to see me already dressed to leave. Realizing how harsh he had just sounded, he looked slightly uncomfortable. But I didn’t look at him again. *** 0
The night was pitch black. Ethan was so panicked by the nurse’s words that he didn’t even wait for me. He ran to his car, throwing a rushed “I’ll see you there” over his shoulder, and sped off into the night. I stood under the awning of the restaurant, watching his taillights vanish into the New York traffic. The very last ember of affection I had for him died in that cold city air. Chloe pulled up in our town car, and we drove back to the estate. Clara’s wing of the mansion was lit up like a Christmas tree. The sound of crying drifted through the open windows. It sounded like a tragedy in progress. When I walked into her bedroom, the scene was utter chaos. Clara was propped up against her pillows, her face pale, damp hair clinging to her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, dramatic gasps. Ethan sat on the edge of her mattress, holding her hand tightly in both of his. His face was etched with terror, but his voice was incredibly soft. “Don’t worry, Clara. I’m right here. The specialists are on their way. You’re going to be fine.” Clara gasped for air. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw me walk in. A brief, cunning glint flashed across her face before she quickly masked it. She weakly reached out, clutching Ethan’s sleeve. “Ethan… I… I don’t think I’m going to make it this time…” Ethan’s chest tightened. “Don’t talk like that. I won’t let anything happen to you. Whatever you want, just tell me. I’ll get it for you.” Tears rolled down Clara’s cheeks. Slowly, her gaze drifted to my wrist. I followed her eyes and felt a sudden chill. On my wrist was an emerald-cut diamond pendant bracelet. It was the last gift my parents had given me. Before they passed away, they had taken it to the historic Trinity Church in Boston to have the priest bless it for my protection. Since their death, I had worn it every single day. I never took it off. Clara looked at it with a mix of longing and pathetic helplessness. “Ethan… I’m so scared every night. My heart won’t stop racing. I heard that Aria’s bracelet was blessed at Trinity Church… that it brings peace to whoever wears it. Since my time is short… could I borrow it for just a few days? Just until I feel safe. I promise I’ll return it to her.” “And if… if I don’t make it… I want to be buried with it. So I won’t be scared in the dark.” The room fell dead silent. Without a shred of hesitation, Ethan turned to look at me. His voice left no room for argument. “Aria, she’s in critical condition. It’s just a bracelet. Let her have it.” I looked him dead in the eye. “No. It belonged to my parents. I’m not lending it to anyone.” Clara’s body shuddered violently, as if she had been slapped. She began to cough hysterically, clutching her chest. “I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked… It’s my own fault… Don’t fight because of me…” She wept, her frail frame shaking. Ethan’s temper flared. He glared at me, his voice booming through the room. “Aria, enough! She is dying! It’s a piece of jewelry! Is your stupid pride more important than her life? You’re my wife—stop being so incredibly petty!” Seeing Ethan take her side so aggressively, a smug look flashed in Clara’s eyes. While everyone’s attention was on Ethan, she suddenly lunged forward, her hand clawing directly at my wrist. Her movement was incredibly fast and aggressive—not at all like someone on the brink of death. I instinctively pulled my arm back to protect the bracelet. But she grabbed the delicate platinum chain, pulling with surprising strength. “Aria, please! Just let me have this one comfort!” she shrieked. Seeing us struggle, Ethan snapped. “Aria, let go! You’re going to hurt her!” He grabbed my arm, pinning my wrist down with brute force. I couldn’t move. Taking advantage of my restraint, Clara gave a violent yank. *Snap.* The sound of the platinum chain breaking was clear as day. The emerald-cut diamond pendant tumbled to the hardwood floor, the delicate stone chipping as it hit the ground. I stared down at the broken piece of my mother’s legacy. In that moment, something inside me broke forever. The tension in the room instantly vanished. Clara let go and fell back onto her pillows, sobbing loudly, stammering that she hadn’t meant to break it. Ethan didn’t even look at the broken jewelry on the floor. He was too busy leaning over Clara, murmuring comfort. “It’s fine, Clara. It’s just a bracelet. I’ll buy you a better one tomorrow.” I knelt down, picking up the broken chain and the chipped diamond piece by piece. A sharp edge sliced my index finger, and a drop of blood fell onto the floor. But I felt absolutely nothing. I stood up, pocketed the broken pieces, and walked out of the room without looking back. Ethan watched my cold exit, a sudden, inexplicable sense of dread washing over him. He made a move to follow me, but Clara clutched his hand. “Ethan, please don’t leave me. I’m scared.” He sighed and sat back down. He assured himself that Aria was always reasonable. She wouldn’t stay mad over a broken bracelet. I sat by the window in my room, watching the night turn to dawn. As the first light of morning broke over the estate, I sent a text to Chloe. *“Book me the earliest flight to Boston. Today.”*
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