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Chapter 2

Author: Michelle
Vincent stood there for a moment before he left.

That night, he showed up at the lab unannounced, holding a small box. Inside was a slice of tiramisu.

I am allergic to caffeine. One bite would make my heart race and my skin break out in hives. After all this time, he still did not remember that tiramisu was Cora's favorite, not mine.

"I thought you might forget to eat while working," he said, offering me the box.

He had extended an olive branch. I had no reason to refuse. I smiled and said, "Thanks."

Vincent seemed surprised I did not say more.

On the drive back, he asked, "Claire, are you angry with me?"

I was distracted, thinking about the data I needed to hand over to Tessa. I barely heard him. "Sorry, I was distracted. What did you say?"

My tone must have been too distant, because he hit the brakes and turned to look at me. "Are you still upset about the dress?"

"What?" I blinked. "No. Why would you think that?"

He studied me for a few seconds, then turned back to the road. "Claire, you were never this quiet before."

He was right. Everything changed a year ago when Cora returned from abroad. We fought about her constantly. Vincent always said she was just someone his family had taken in, and I was being unreasonable.

The worst fight was when he lost his temper and said, "Claire, can you be reasonable for once? I deal with family business all day. I have enough on my shoulders. You are going to marry me. You will be Donna. I thought you would understand me better than anyone. I don't have the energy to manage every petty jealousy. Cora is practically family. Why do you always have to make this so difficult?"

We did not speak for a month. I was the one who apologized first.

That was when things started to cool between us. All the fights we had over the past year gradually wore down what we once had. Now, I felt nothing. No withdrawal, no pain.

I looked at him and smiled. "Vincent, I was immature before. That won't happen again."

Later that night, while Vincent was in the shower, I opened my phone and saw Cora's latest post. Nine photos of her in my dress, her arm around Vincent. The caption read, "With the one I love."

Mutual friends liked it. Someone commented, "Is that Vincent?" Cora replied with a smiley emoji.

I liked it too, locked my phone, and lay down to sleep.

But no sooner had I closed my eyes than the mattress dipped beside me. Vincent pulled me close, his breath warm against my ear.

"Claire…"

I shifted away and caught his hand. "Vincent. I'm tired tonight. Not tonight."

I had never turned him down before. After every fight, this was how we made up. Vincent was good at making apologies feel like devotion. He would kneel at the edge of the bed, take my ankle in his hand, and press slow kisses to the arch of my foot, as if worship could erase whatever he had done wrong. Then he would pull me close, kiss my fingertips one by one, and murmur against my skin until I softened first.

But now, with my departure so close, I did not feel like pretending.

Vincent stiffened.
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