Chapter 2The Vanishing Stocking

It was laughable, really.

After all these years in Chicago, I had no friends, no job. The only money I had was what Vincent had thrown at me last night.

The only thing I had learned was how to revolve around him.

I learned to cook for him, to put him first, to empty my savings to buy him a twenty-thousand-dollar watch just to see him smile.

I was such a fool.

A fool who had offered up her heart, completely exposed, for him to trample on.

“One ticket to Miami, please.”

The woman behind the counter suddenly spoke. “Hey… aren’t you the girl from six years ago?”

I looked up, a hint of color returning to my pale face.

“You remember me?”

The woman smiled.

“How could anyone forget you two?”

“Your boyfriend waited outside the station for you for a whole day and night. The snow was piling up on his shoulders, but he wouldn’t move, terrified he’d miss you.”

“We told him to go inside, get a cup of coffee to warm up, but he just gave this shy smile and said he was starting a business, that he’d spent all his money on a gift for you. He couldn't even afford a train ticket, said he’d walked for five hours just to get to the station.”

I listened, captivated.

My chest felt tight, a bitter ache spreading through it.

From a rundown squat, to a tiny rental, to the spacious penthouse we lived in now.

He had shouldered all the hardship alone.

With hands raw from frostbite and calluses, he had built a life for us, brick by brick. A home.

“We won’t have to be afraid of the winter anymore,” he’d said.

“Chloe… I was so scared you would come find me. And so scared you wouldn’t.”

“I was terrified you’d have to suffer with me.”

“But I was even more terrified that you didn’t love me.”

He had cried that day.

He held me so tightly I thought I would merge into his body.

My own tears streamed down my face.

It was supposed to be a happy memory. How had it become so painful?

“Here’s your ticket, honey.”

My fingertips trembled as I took it.

It felt less like a ticket and more like a blade, meant to sever the past.

“Don’t cry.”

The ticket agent glanced at the expensive jade bracelet on my wrist and seemed to relax a little.

“When you build a life with a man from nothing, don’t measure it in love. Measure it in money. Measure it by how willing he is to provide for you.”

I nodded.

The ticket was crumpled in my fist.

Just before boarding, Vincent arrived.

He ran toward me, just like he had six years ago, and pulled me into a fierce hug.

I could hear his ragged breathing, his frantic heartbeat, the tremor in his voice.

“Don’t go…”

“Chloe, I was just angry with you. I wasn’t trying to kick you out…”

Vincent tore up my ticket, swept me into his arms, and placed me in the passenger seat of his car.

“You don’t want me seeing Erin, right?”

“I had her transferred. I’ll keep my distance from now on.”

I was silent.

I stared numbly at the little charm dangling from the rearview mirror—a gift from Erin.

The car was filled with the scent of citrus—Erin’s perfume.

The glove compartment, which used to be filled with my things, was now stuffed with snacks for a child and several tubes of lipstick that weren’t mine.

I blinked, my eyes feeling incredibly dry.

Vincent didn’t notice. He was chattering on about taking me to Japan for the holidays.

I sighed softly.

I didn’t even have the energy to nod.