She Took My Devotion for Granted,Until I Walked Away

Someone nudged me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I looked up to find everyone staring at me.

Vivienne's voice was cold and sharp. "Ethan, if you want to make a scene, do it at home. Don't kill the mood here."

I didn't want to stick around playing third wheel anyway.

"I'll head out, then."

I didn't look back at her face—dark as a thundercloud—as I grabbed my bag and stood.

Behind me, Louis's voice drifted over. "Viv, is Ethan upset with me again?"

Vivienne's tone softened instantly, warm and reassuring. "No, that's just how he is. Weird temper."

Without me there, the energy picked right back up.

As I pulled the door shut, I caught a glimpse of them through the gap—arms linked, drinking from each other's glasses.

Vivienne had never once been that warm with me in public.

Watching how close they were, I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd gotten a room tonight.

They looked more like a couple in love than we ever did.

They always hid behind the word friends—reliving the sweetness of what they'd once had. Those loaded glances, those suggestive little moments, each one testing the limits of what I'd tolerate.

When the weather turned cold, Louis would drape Vivienne's blazer over his shoulders. When he hitched a ride, he'd insist on the passenger seat so he could hand-feed her snacks while she drove.

They calibrated it perfectly—just enough to sting, never enough to convict. The moment I got upset, I was "reading too much into it."

Until tonight.

Under cover of a drinking game and a pleasant buzz, they'd kissed right there in front of everyone.

That was new.

Vivienne believed I loved her, that I'd never leave. So she did whatever she pleased.

I hadn't even made it out of the restaurant when a message from a colleague in my department lit up my screen.

[Dude, you just LEFT? You're not gonna keep an eye on Ms. Delaney? After you walked out, those two got even worse!]

I stared at the message in silence.

Could I rein her in? Had I ever been able to?

I'd guarded her for years. Even I got tired.

Outside the hotel, the bitter wind raked through my hair, cutting straight through me.

It also stripped away something heavier—something I'd been carrying for a long time.

I darkened my phone screen and dropped it into my bag. Pulled my coat tighter and walked into the cold.

And then it hit me.

I could stop loving Vivienne Delaney.

I made it back to the villa.

It was the first property Vivienne had bought after her company took off. We'd designed it together, furnished it piece by piece until it became what it was now.

Fresh flowers I liked sat on the living room coffee table. Her favorite books lined the shelf beside the couch.

I'd long since made this place my home—loved it the same way I loved her.

I let out a quiet, self-mocking laugh.

Those two were wrapped up in each other. They didn't need my love.

I went upstairs, showered, and collapsed into bed.

Around three in the morning, a racket from downstairs jolted me half-awake—things clattering, something falling over.

Vivienne was home.

I'd assumed she wasn't coming back tonight.

Before, whenever she stumbled in drunk from some late-night event, I'd always leave a lamp on in the living room. I'd wait up just to have the hangover soup ready, to run her a hot bath.

Tonight there was no lamp. She probably wasn't used to the darkness. I heard her trip and fall.

The bedroom door swung open. She was expecting the usual—me, frantic, ready to argue and fuss.

Instead, she got silence.

This was the first time she'd guessed wrong.

This time, I stayed completely calm. So calm it didn't even feel like me.

Vivienne seemed to sense something was off. She walked to the edge of the bed and stood there, swaying slightly.

The reek of alcohol rolled off her in waves, laced with sandalwood—Louis's cologne.

"Ethan?"

She called my name once. I kept my breathing steady, feigning sleep.

She stood watching me for a few minutes. Then she let out a cold scoff, staggered back out of the room, and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the walls.

I knew what she was doing. She was furious that I'd ignored her.

She could throw her tantrum without a second thought.

Because she believed I would always come running to make it right.