Lillian’s POVChris offers to help me move as soon as he spots me struggling with the heavy box.“You don’t have to do this,” I protest weakly, even as he lifts the box like it weighs nothing.“Neighbors help each other,” he says with an easy smile. “Besides, it looks like you’ve got enough to keep you busy for a while.”I laugh softly, trying not to focus on the way his shirt stretches over his shoulders as he carries the box inside. “Thanks, Chris. Really. You didn’t sign up for this, though.”Chris grabs one of the heavier boxes labeled Books and lets out an exaggerated groan as he lifts it.“Okay, Lillian, be honest. Are these actual books or bricks disguised as books?”“They’re classics! You know, the cornerstone of every decent library.”“Cornerstone? More like a literal foundation.” He pretends to stumble under the weight, leaning against the wall as if he might collapse. “Do you really need all of these?”“Absolutely. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who thinks digital
Chris POVMichael’s glare hardens, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s actually going to take a swing at me. My body tenses, ready to deflect or block if necessary. Instead, he scoffs and gestures around the apartment.“This place?” He sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re telling me this is your apartment?”“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Lillian is my tenant. And you? You’re trespassing.”Michael freezes, his eyes narrowing as he processes my words. “Tenant?” he repeats.“Tenant,” I confirm. “I’m the landlord. The person who rented this apartment to her. And as the landlord, I have every right to kick you out.”“Unbelievable. Of all the places she could’ve moved, she ends up here? What, did you manipulate the situation? Drop the rent just to reel her in?”“The agent sent me a list of potential tenants. When I saw her name, I figured it was a sign. She needed a place, and I had one. Simple as that.”Michael’s jaw tightens, and he glances at Lillian, who’s standing off to t
Lillian’s POVAva flops onto my couch, tucking one leg under her as she looks around my new apartment. “Okay, spill. How are you liking the new place?”I smile faintly, glancing at the boxes I still haven’t unpacked. “It’s cozy. I really like it. It’s close to work, there’s a park nearby, and the layout’s perfect.”She raises an eyebrow. “I still can’t believe you got this place for the price you’re paying. I mean, a 20% discount? That’s crazy.”“Yeah, I got lucky. Chris lowered the rent for me.”“Wait. Chris? The neighbor who helped you move?”“Yeah, turns out he’s not just my neighbor. He’s the landlord.”Her jaw drops, and she points an accusatory finger at me. “And you’re just casually mentioning this now? Since when are you two on a first-name basis?”I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Since the second time we met, I guess. I didn’t know this was his apartment until I ran into him here.”“Wait, wait, wait. Back up. You’ve met before? How? When? And why is this man giving you discounts a
Michael’s POVI sit at the dining table, slowly stirring my coffee, the spoon clinking against the porcelain cup. Across from me, Ginja lounges on the windowsill, soaking up the morning sunlight. She flicks her tail lazily, completely unbothered by the mess of torn papers on the table—another divorce agreement, ripped to shreds like all the others.“Do you even care about any of this?” I ask her. “About her leaving? About me sitting here, looking like a fool every day?”Ginja flicks an ear, uninterested.I sigh and rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”The sound of the papers crinkling under my arm draws my attention back to the divorce agreement—or what’s left of it. I pick up a torn piece and turn it over in my hand.“She’s not serious, you know,” I say, as if Ginja might argue. “This is just another one of her stunts. She wants me to chase her, to beg. But I’m not doing that. Not this time.”Ginja finally glances at me, her green eyes half-lidded. She lets out a tiny
Lillian’s POV I step out of the hotel, and the brisk winter breeze instantly brushes against my face. Zurich's streets are lively, snowflakes fall gently around me.I'm here to surprise Micheal. The elementary school where I work organized a trip to Switzerland, and by chance, I had booked the same hotel as my husband. This year, Micheal has invested in a new resort project in the city, and he's here on business. I didn't tell him I'd be visiting. I'm hoping to bring a bit of home to his busy day.I make my way to a small bakery on the corner. The smell of fresh pastries fills the air as I step inside. The shopkeeper, a woman with kind eyes, greets me with a smile."May I help you?""Yes, I'd like a dozen ginger cookies," I say, tapping my finger against the jar."Are these for someone special?" she asks. "They are," I reply, with a smile. "My husband absolutely adores them. I can already picture his face lighting up when he sees them. Plus, they're the only thing that can distrac
Lillian’s POV My fingers tremble as I dial Micheal's number, heart pounding. Each unanswered ring feeds my frustration. Across from me, the receptionist meets my gaze with a smug look. I glance at her name tag, reading it quickly. "I will tell Michael exactly how you've treated me, and, Ms. Müller, I will also be filing a complaint against you." "Sure you are," she scoffs, crossing her arms. When my call goes straight to voicemail, her mocking laughter grates on my nerves."Another wannabe," she sneers, sizing me up. "Coming here thinking you can get his attention. And in that? At least try something with a higher price tag next time. ”My face flushes, anger and embarrassment blend. I step forward, my hand itching to slap her smug face. But she grabs the phone on her desk, eye glinting."Security, please, We have a disturbance in the lobby."In moments, two guards appear, their expressions unreadable as they approach. One of them, a bulky man with arms like steel beams, reache
Lillian's POVMichael's expression turns to one of worry, and he rushes forward toward me. "Lillian, what are you doing here? Why do you look like this?" he asks, sounding almost genuinely worried. But I can't bring myself to believe his concern is real—not with that woman standing there, looking at me like I'm the impostor here.Just this morning, I was so excited, filled with hope for our time in Switzerland. But now, all I want is to go home. My expectations haven't come close to reality."I came here with the other teachers," I begin quietly. "Our boss arranged a retreat for us. I thought I'd surprise you." "You should have told me," he says, a hint of impatience edging his voice."I wanted it to be a pleasant surprise," I reply, hugging myself against the chill."But when I arrived, the receptionist didn't believe I was your wife. She... she laughed at me." I swallow hard, remembering the sting of humiliation. "She said you were already with your wife in your office. Then secu
Lillian's POV"Michael, why can't you take me home?" I stand frozen, struggling to swallow the newest lump in my throat."I can't take you home right now, Lillian. Catherine and I have an appointment to go over the designs for the resort. We need to go and look at the place. It's important," he says. Finally, he looks at me. "You made it here on your own, didn't you? You can get back by yourself."His words sting, more cutting than I expected. I open my mouth, wanting to argue, but no words come out. Instead, I feel the weight of his indifference crushing me. He turns away, guiding Catherine out of the lobby with a hand on her back, a touch that feels too intimate."Goodbye, Lillian!" Catherine calls over her shoulder, her voice saccharine sweet. It's a mockery, I realize, a quiet jab at the hurt I can't hide. My knees throb, scraped raw from earlier. I grit my teeth and force myself to keep going, by the ache in my body mirrors the hurt in my heart.I can't break down here, not i
Michael’s POVI sit at the dining table, slowly stirring my coffee, the spoon clinking against the porcelain cup. Across from me, Ginja lounges on the windowsill, soaking up the morning sunlight. She flicks her tail lazily, completely unbothered by the mess of torn papers on the table—another divorce agreement, ripped to shreds like all the others.“Do you even care about any of this?” I ask her. “About her leaving? About me sitting here, looking like a fool every day?”Ginja flicks an ear, uninterested.I sigh and rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”The sound of the papers crinkling under my arm draws my attention back to the divorce agreement—or what’s left of it. I pick up a torn piece and turn it over in my hand.“She’s not serious, you know,” I say, as if Ginja might argue. “This is just another one of her stunts. She wants me to chase her, to beg. But I’m not doing that. Not this time.”Ginja finally glances at me, her green eyes half-lidded. She lets out a tiny
Lillian’s POVAva flops onto my couch, tucking one leg under her as she looks around my new apartment. “Okay, spill. How are you liking the new place?”I smile faintly, glancing at the boxes I still haven’t unpacked. “It’s cozy. I really like it. It’s close to work, there’s a park nearby, and the layout’s perfect.”She raises an eyebrow. “I still can’t believe you got this place for the price you’re paying. I mean, a 20% discount? That’s crazy.”“Yeah, I got lucky. Chris lowered the rent for me.”“Wait. Chris? The neighbor who helped you move?”“Yeah, turns out he’s not just my neighbor. He’s the landlord.”Her jaw drops, and she points an accusatory finger at me. “And you’re just casually mentioning this now? Since when are you two on a first-name basis?”I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Since the second time we met, I guess. I didn’t know this was his apartment until I ran into him here.”“Wait, wait, wait. Back up. You’ve met before? How? When? And why is this man giving you discounts a
Chris POVMichael’s glare hardens, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s actually going to take a swing at me. My body tenses, ready to deflect or block if necessary. Instead, he scoffs and gestures around the apartment.“This place?” He sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re telling me this is your apartment?”“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Lillian is my tenant. And you? You’re trespassing.”Michael freezes, his eyes narrowing as he processes my words. “Tenant?” he repeats.“Tenant,” I confirm. “I’m the landlord. The person who rented this apartment to her. And as the landlord, I have every right to kick you out.”“Unbelievable. Of all the places she could’ve moved, she ends up here? What, did you manipulate the situation? Drop the rent just to reel her in?”“The agent sent me a list of potential tenants. When I saw her name, I figured it was a sign. She needed a place, and I had one. Simple as that.”Michael’s jaw tightens, and he glances at Lillian, who’s standing off to t
Lillian’s POVChris offers to help me move as soon as he spots me struggling with the heavy box.“You don’t have to do this,” I protest weakly, even as he lifts the box like it weighs nothing.“Neighbors help each other,” he says with an easy smile. “Besides, it looks like you’ve got enough to keep you busy for a while.”I laugh softly, trying not to focus on the way his shirt stretches over his shoulders as he carries the box inside. “Thanks, Chris. Really. You didn’t sign up for this, though.”Chris grabs one of the heavier boxes labeled Books and lets out an exaggerated groan as he lifts it.“Okay, Lillian, be honest. Are these actual books or bricks disguised as books?”“They’re classics! You know, the cornerstone of every decent library.”“Cornerstone? More like a literal foundation.” He pretends to stumble under the weight, leaning against the wall as if he might collapse. “Do you really need all of these?”“Absolutely. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who thinks digital
Lillian’s POVMichael takes a step back, his expression caught somewhere between anger and hurt. For a moment, I think he’s going to argue, but instead, he raises his hands in surrender.“I’m not forcing you. But at least let me take you back to your friend’s house. I don’t trust you walking out there alone.”“Fine. But you drop me off and leave. That’s it.”He nods stiffly, leading the way to his car. “I’ll give you some time to calm down,” Michael says after a few minutes, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “But about the divorce, I will not agree to it.”I turn to him, my voice sharp. “Then I’ll calm down for the rest of my life, Michael. Whether or not you agree to the divorce, we are done. Dragging this on is meaningless.”“You don’t mean that.”“I mean every word,” I snap.The rest of the drive is spent in tense silence. When we pull up in front of Ava’s apartment, I don’t wait for him to say anything else. I step out and slam the door shut behind me, not looking ba
Lillian’s POVMichael’s mother’s gaze narrows, her lips pursed so tightly they look like a single straight line. “You know we’re taking a family photo today,” she says. “How could you not wear something nice, or even put on makeup? Are you deliberately trying to embarrass us?”“Excuse me?” I say.Eleanor scoffs, tilting her head as if I’m some unruly child. “You heard me, dear. It’s a family tradition. A professional photographer comes every year. Everyone knows to look their best. But I suppose that sort of consideration is too much to expect from you.”“I didn’t realize I needed to meet a dress code to eat dinner.”Her eyes narrow even further. Before I can say more, Michael’s sister, Vanessa, appears, sliding into the conversation like a snake. She’s always been good at turning small sparks into full-blown fires.“She has a point, Lillian,” Vanessa chimes in. “It’s not that hard to put in a little effort. I mean, you knew tonight was important, didn’t you?”“I dressed appropriatel
Lillian’s POVI wake to a loud banging on the door, each knock rattling through the quiet apartment. Groggily, I sit up, wondering if I’m still dreaming. But then Michael’s voice cuts through the silence.“Lillian! Open the door!”My heart sinks. For a moment, I freeze, staring at the ceiling. It’s still dark outside, the faint glow of the streetlights barely filtering through the curtains. I reach for my phone.4:47 AM.What the hell is he doing here?I grab my phone, unblock his number, and call him.“Michael, go home,” I say as soon as he picks up.“I’m not leaving,” he snaps. “Not until you talk to me.”“Are you seriously making a scene right now?” I hiss, keeping my voice low. “You’re going to wake everyone up.”“Good. Maybe they’ll talk some sense into you.”The sound of footsteps draws my attention. Ava appears in the room, her face a mix of exhaustion and annoyance, her hair sticking up on one side.“Do you know what’s going on?” she whispers.“It’s Michael,” I mutter, hanging
Michael’s POVHer laughter rings out, light and carefree. It’s been so long since I’ve heard her laugh like that—too long. But that’s not what stops me in my tracks. It’s the way she leans into him, the way his hand lingers near her waist like he belongs there. And the matching outfits? Perfectly coordinated, as if they’re some kind of... couple.The blood rushes to my head, a mix of disbelief and fury. For days, she’s refused to see me, sending divorce papers instead, while this—this policeman—has been keeping her company? My hands clench into fists.Before I know it, I’m crossing the room. She doesn’t notice me, too busy smiling up at him like he’s the center of her universe. When I reach her, my hand moves of its own accord, clamping down on her arm.Her smile vanishes instantly. She whirls around, and her eyes widen when she sees me. “Michael.”The way she says my name, as if she doesn’t have a drop of care for me, cuts deeper than I care to admit.“What’s this?” I demand, ges
Lillian’s POVChris makes his way over. Ava vanishes into the crowd, doing what she does best—networking, laughing, effortlessly making connections. I fidget with the soft gold bracelet on my wrist, the only thing I brought with me that wasn’t borrowed from Ava’s closet. My dress, an elegant emerald green she picked out, is a perfect nod to the 1920s with its shimmering beads and fitted silhouette. “Lillian. Long time no see,” Chris says as he arrives by my side.“I didn’t expect to see you here.” “Same here,” he says. “How’s the neck?” For a second, I’m confused, but then I remember. The fork. The man with the mental illness. “It’s fine now,” I say. “I tend to forget it’s there.” “Good to hear. It’s been worrying me for days, but I had no way to check in on you.” “I’m sorry,” I say, feeling guilty for never using the number he gave me.“No! No. I didn’t mean it like that. Look at me messing things up.”“You’re not messing things up,” I say.“Let's change the subject. This ban