Three days before our wedding, my fiancé sold the house we’d spent three years building into a home. His buddies were floored. “Are you insane, Liam?” Leo’s voice crackled through the speakerphone I could hear from the hallway. “You sold the house because Maya wanted some vintage handbag? Does Ava know? Where the hell is she supposed to live after you get married?” “Yeah, man,” Ben chimed in. “Ava poured her heart and soul into that place. Every paint chip, every fixture—that was all her.” I heard the glug of liquor being poured, then Liam’s dismissive sigh. “She’s so in love with me,” he slurred, his voice thick with arrogance. “She nearly died for me, took a knife that was meant for my back. You think she’s going to care about a house?” A bitter laugh. “Besides, she’s always saying, ‘Home is wherever you are.’ This is just a little test. Let’s see if she really means it.” I stood frozen outside the private room of the downtown lounge, the hot and sour soup I’d brought for him growing cold in my hands. I listened for another moment, then silently turned and walked away. On the day we were supposed to get our marriage license, Liam’s calls came one after another, frantic and demanding, like a death knell for a life I no longer wanted. “Ava, where the hell are you? My entire family is waiting at City Hall!” I gazed out the window at the familiar oak-lined street below, my street. “I already took care of it, Liam,” I said, my voice calm. “I’m home.” 1 That house was my masterpiece, the canvas for a life I’d spent three years meticulously planning, starting with the very first design sketch. But all it took was Maya whispering, “I want it so badly,” for Liam to liquidate my dream and turn it into a designer bag for her. Standing outside that lounge, my hand trembled so violently I thought I might drop the soup. Each breath felt like swallowing shards of glass. Inside, Leo pressed on, his voice laced with disbelief. “Look, Liam, you have to at least tell her. Selling a house isn’t like selling a used car. She’s going to come home, find the locks changed, and she’s going to kill you.” Liam waved it off impatiently. “Will you guys stop? It’s always ‘Ava, Ava, Ava.’ You think I’m gonna leave her on the street? We’ll rent something. It’s not a big deal.” “But it is a big deal,” Ben argued. “It was your wedding house. It’s different. This is… man, this is a really shitty thing to do.” Liam’s frustration boiled over. "If she knew, she’d just cry and ask a million questions, and I don’t have the energy to deal with that right now.” He paused, his voice dropping with chilling certainty. “Look, she worships the ground I walk on. She’s not going to leave me over this. Don’t forget about the scar on her back. That’s for me. Selling a house is nothing compared to that.” Someone in the background started snickering. “I get it, man. It’s all for Maya… Can’t blame you. A woman like that could make any man lose his mind.” “Haha, we all bet you’d end up with Maya anyway. Same background, perfect match.” Liam’s tone hardened. “Shut up. Don’t ever let Ava hear you say that. If she flips out because of you guys, I’ll have your heads.” The laughter grew louder. “Alright, alright, our lips are sealed. You’ve got Ava wrapped around your little finger, we get it.” Just then, Liam’s phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with a single name: Maya. The room fell instantly silent, the air thick with sly glances. “Speak of the devil.” Liam didn’t deny it. A slow smile spread across his face as he answered, his voice instantly dropping to a warm, gentle murmur. On the other end, Maya’s voice was a sugary purr. “Liam, did you really get ‘The Stardust’ for me? I heard it went for over three hundred thousand at the auction!” “Yep. All paid for. It’ll be in your hands next week.” “Oh, but… wasn’t that terribly expensive?” “Three hundred grand is nothing. If it makes you happy, it’s worth every penny.” A soft, contented sigh drifted through the phone. “You are just too good to me. The second I get it, you’ll be the first person I show it to.” Liam’s eyes crinkled with pleasure. “I’m counting on it.” The moment he hung up, his friends descended. “Three hundred thousand for a bag! Damn, Liam, is she just going to move right in with that thing? Does Ava have any idea?” Liam grabbed a bottle of whiskey. “Ava and I are basically an old married couple. She’s not into all that flashy stuff… Maya’s different. She’s fragile. She needs to feel secure.” Standing in that hallway, a profound cold seeped into my bones. The furniture in our home—my home—was a collection of treasures I’d hunted down in every consignment shop and outlet mall in the tri-state area. I remembered finding a beautiful mid-century modern sofa, priced at two thousand dollars. Liam’s face had fallen instantly. “Two grand for a couch? Do you think money grows on trees? We could sit on the floor for free.” He ended up picking one himself. As he grudgingly paid, I saw the bill: $188.80. It wasn’t that he was cheap. It was that his generosity was a currency he never spent on me. Driving home, I rolled down all the windows, letting the fierce wind whip against my face until my cheeks were numb. Three years. I had been a fool for three years. When I’d first told him I wanted to design our home myself, he’d spun me around in his arms, laughing. “Of course,” he’d said. “It’ll be perfect.” In that moment, I truly believed he cherished me. He had to remember. He had to. He had to remember the glint of the mugger’s blade, the way I’d moved without thinking, shoving him out of the way. The wound was an inch from my spine. I was in a coma for three days. He sat by my bedside, weeping, promising he would love me for the rest of his life. But he hadn’t cherished it. Or maybe, to him, my scar wasn't a symbol of my love, but a get-out-of-jail-free card. A license to be reckless with my heart. My doctor had warned me that extreme emotional stress could aggravate the nerve damage around the old wound. I tilted my head back, trying to swallow the lump in my throat, but a dull, heavy ache was spreading through my chest. Liam’s call came through, his voice nearly drowned out by the thumping bass of a nightclub. “Ava, the guys are throwing me a last-minute bachelor party. Don’t wait up, okay? Go to sleep.” I was silent for a beat too long. “Okay,” I finally said. At 1 a.m., unable to sleep, I opened Instagram. Ben had just posted a nine-photo grid. The caption read: To my best friend on his last night of freedom! In the center photo, Maya was a vision of laughter, a shimmering handbag clutched in one hand. She was draped all over Liam, her body pressed against his, and his hand was resting firmly, possessively, on the small of her back. The comments were a dumpster fire: “Holy shit, is that ‘The Stardust’? Liam, you’re a legend!” “They just look so right together. What a shame.” “@Liam_G You better watch it, man. Don’t let Ava see this!” Liam himself had replied. “Ava’s not petty like that. If she threw a fit over something this small, maybe we shouldn’t be getting married at all.” I shut my phone, my face a blank mask. He was certain I wouldn’t dare. Just as he was certain I’d swallow the fact that he’d sold our house, that he’d bought another woman a $300,000 purse, that every time he was with her, the excuse was always, “We’re just friends.” But this time, the place where the knife had gone in… it didn’t hurt anymore. And I was done swallowing lies. 2 I went to my physical therapy appointment alone. “How many times do I have to tell you?” Dr. Evans said, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. “The scar tissue gets inflamed in damp weather. Someone needs to be with you to help apply the treatment.” I managed a weak smile. “I can handle it.” Not long after I left the clinic, the sky opened up in a torrential downpour. I ducked into a corner café to wait it out and saw them. Liam was holding a fork, a smile lighting up his face as Maya leaned in, delicately taking the bite of cheesecake he offered her. The infamous handbag, ‘The Stardust,’ was perched on her arm, sparkling even in the gloomy light. And the watch on her wrist was the one Liam had claimed last week was a “gift for an important client.” A bitter, mocking laugh escaped my lips. I turned and ran back out into the rain, not caring that I was soaked to the bone. When Liam got home, I had just finished showering, my hair still dripping onto my shoulders. He stopped short when he saw me. “What happened to you? You look like a drowned rat.” “I was at the hospital.” His expression froze. “What for? What’s wrong?” I let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “I’ve reminded you about my PT appointment every week for the last month.” He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, Ava. Anyway, you’re healed. Missing one appointment won’t kill you.” I just stared at him. “The doctor said if I don’t keep up with the therapy, the nerve damage could become permanent.” That shut him up. For a moment. When he looked at me again, his eyes were glinting with annoyance. “Are you trying to use that scar against me again?” So that’s what this was to him. My pain was just a bargaining chip. When I didn’t respond, his temper flared. “Why are you giving me that look? So I forgot to go with you to one appointment. Is it really that big of a deal?” My gaze drifted to the collar of his shirt. “You have a little whipped cream,” I said softly, “right there.” He instinctively reached for his collar, then froze. “You…” I continued in that same, quiet voice. “The watch looks good on Maya. It suits her.” His face turned a dark, blotchy red. He pointed a trembling finger at me. “Were you following me? Ava, what is wrong with you? She just moved back to the States, she’s lonely, I was just keeping her company!” He was shouting now. “She’s been on her own her whole life, she has no one! It’s pathetic! All she has is me!” He took a breath, his voice dripping with righteousness. “Do you have to be so damn petty about everything? Does it make you feel good?” I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “That’s rich. I was at the hospital alone, too. I don’t see you feeling sorry for me.” He was cornered, and he came out swinging. “It’s not the same thing… and when have I not cared about you? Do you really need me to hold your hand through everything?” Before he could finish, his phone rang. It was Maya again. He snatched it up. Her voice came through, thick with tears. “Liam… I think I’m getting sick from the rain. My head is killing me…” “Stay right there. I’m on my way.” He hung up and stormed towards the door without a second glance at me. He paused with his hand on the knob, turning back to deliver one last blow. “You need to stay here and think about your attitude. And tomorrow, you’re coming with me to finalize the flowers for the reception.” He sneered. “And stop with the whole stalking thing. It’s classless.” He was gone. His words, however, hung in the air, buzzing around my head. Classless. He was right. I just couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to see it. My heart, it seemed, had been blind for years.
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