Chapter 1

My husband wouldn't let me see the apartment we bought for our marriage.

He said the construction had stalled and it would just upset me.

For three years, every time I brought it up, his face clouded with worry.

We'd moved to a neighboring city with higher-paying jobs to keep up with the mortgage, renting a place while working ourselves to the bone.

Then last week, I passed through our hometown on a business trip and happened to swing by that development.

What I saw wasn't an abandoned construction site at all—it was a lush, upscale community lined with trees.

The buildings were pristine, with children playing outside.

I found our building and took the elevator up to the fifteenth floor.

The door to unit 1502 opened.

A woman in loungewear stood there, looking every bit like the lady of the house.

I'd seen her before.

My husband said she was a friend's sister. He'd posted photos of them on social media.

I froze in the doorway. She froze too.

I double-checked the number—1502. This was it.

The exact floor and unit we'd agonized over before finally deciding.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone guarded.

I opened my mouth but couldn't figure out how to answer. This was my place. Who was I supposed to be looking for?

"Is this your house?" I blurted out.

She looked me up and down, her expression dripping with confusion, then rolled her eyes and slammed the door in my face.

I stood there staring at the closed door, my head buzzing.

I don't really remember how I got back to the hotel.

I just remember sitting on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring at nothing, then booking the next train back to our rental.

When I pushed open the door, my husband Derek was busy in the kitchen. He heard me come in and poked his head out. "You're back? Hungry? Dinner's almost ready."

"How was work today?" He handed me a fork. "Business trip wear you out?"

I shook my head. Said it was fine.

He sat down across from me and put a piece of steak on my plate. "Eat up. You've been looking thin lately."

I lowered my head and mechanically shoveled food into my mouth, but my mind was stuck on what I'd seen earlier.

The upscale community. The fully finished condo. The woman in loungewear.

And the three hundred thousand dollars we still owed on the mortgage.

"Hey," I looked up, "I still want to see that place."

Derek paused for a second but quickly recovered. "Why are you bringing this up again?"

"I just feel like... we've been paying this mortgage for so long. I should at least see it once."

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's nothing but a construction site right now—steel beams and concrete. What's there to see?"

He sighed, his voice tinged with resignation.

"Once they restart construction and it's safe to go in, I promise I'll take you. You'll be the first."

I watched him. His face showed nothing unusual. He even smiled at me.

"Is the mortgage stressing you out again? If it's too much, I can cover more this month. Don't overthink it. If you're tired, take a few days off."

I lowered my head and kept eating.

He kept talking—something about a project at work, a possible year-end bonus, telling me not to pinch pennies so much, to spend money when I needed to.

I listened, murmuring agreement, but inside I felt cold.

Three years.

For three years he'd been like this every day. Gentle. Caring. Always looking out for me.

But that community this afternoon. That door. That woman.

And just now—that brief pause in his hand.

Suddenly, the man who'd slept beside me for three years felt like a stranger.