That day just so happened to be my 29th birthday. It was also the same day I had planned to leave.
I stared at the message, then blocked her number without hesitation. Afterward, I started packing.
In all my years living in the villa, I had never bought a single thing for myself. I moved in with one worn-out duffel bag. And now, nine years later, I was leaving with the same one.
I had barely set it by the door when Ryan entered.
“Make me a bowl of crab chowder.”
He still ordered me around out of habit, like I was nothing more than a maid he kept at his side.
I figured this would be the last time, so I didn’t argue and just did as he said.
When I set the bowl down on the stone table, Ryan stared at me for a long moment. “You’ve been awfully quiet these past few days.”
I used to revolve around him, finding things to say, telling stories, and sharing gossip, even though he barely ever responded with more than a grunt.
I replied evenly, “My throat’s been sore. I didn’t feel like talking.”
Ryan clicked his tongue in disdain and dropped it.
He didn’t come home again for the next two days.
The day he and Clare held their ceremony, I laid our mate agreement from nine years ago and the freshly written mate dissolution agreement on the stone table in the study.
Then, I picked up my old duffel bag, took one last look around the house that had caged me for nine years, and walked toward a future that finally belonged to me.
…
When I arrived at the boarding gate, Ryan suddenly called me.
Without hesitation, I rejected the call. Then, I pulled out the SIM card and tossed it in a trash can.
