I made an excuse about needing to read and slept in the study.

Lying in bed, sleep was impossible.

My phone buzzed.

It was a text from my best friend, Maya.

Heard you took the modeling offer from that designer in Paris?

I smiled as I typed back: Yep. Just accepted.

You’re really ready to leave Julian this time?

Don't worry. I won't let myself become a mess again.

Ten years ago, to become Julian’s exclusive model, I broke a contract with a huge industry name and was effectively blacklisted.

That period was a dark, sunless nightmare.

But what broke me wasn't the career downturn; it was Julian's state of mind.

His long-term professional struggles had plunged him into a deep depression.

I stayed by his side, protected him, willing to set myself on fire just to be his light.

A lot of people said I could have had a much brighter future.

I didn't care.

Julian told me I was his only light.

I was willing to give everything for that.

Later, his talent finally bloomed, and he became a star overnight.

Even after his depression lifted, I remained his only model.

He proposed to me at the height of his fame, a grand, public affair.

None of us could have predicted that a full decade would pass between that proposal and today.

I had asked him back then, "What if you regret proposing so early?"

He had shaken his head. "Never. I hate people who abandon those they love. My mother left me and my dad… her leaving was part of the reason for my depression."

I wonder if he ever thought, back then, that he would one day become the very thing he despised.

When a relationship peaks at the very beginning, the only way to go is down.

Maya had seen us at our most passionate, and she knew the strained pretense we were living now.

Her chat bubble showed her typing for a long time.

Finally, her reply came through.

A line drawn from a starting point might cross other lines, Chloe, but its direction is always toward its own finish line.

You got this, girl. I’m here for you.

I tossed and turned.

I kept refreshing my Instagram feed.

Plenty of people had liked my post; the comments were a mix of clueless congratulations and advice to cut my losses.

Everyone, it seemed, except for Julian.

My thumb got tired, so I went to the living room for a glass of water.

There, in the soft glow of a lamp, was Julian, making handmade flowers.

He was so focused he didn't even notice me as he picked up his phone to snap a picture.

A moment later, that same picture appeared on Zoe's Instagram feed.

Can’t believe I just mentioned it in passing and someone stayed up all night to make these for me. Is this what it feels like to be cared for?

It was a shame I had to learn about my own fiancé's new hobbies through someone else's social media.

I refreshed the page again and saw Julian’s comment.

Anything for you.

How long had it been since I’d gotten that kind of attention?

Probably three or four years ago, Julian had just stopped replying to my posts.

When I asked him why he didn't even "like" them, he said, "Babe, my career is taking off. I'm just too busy."

It was clear now that he wasn't just busy.

He had me muted, picking and choosing who he engaged with.

No wonder he still hadn't seen the picture I’d posted.

I poured my water and walked toward the dining table, startling him.

His smile vanished instantly.

He held out a small, clumsy-looking flower. "I just made this. Want it?"

This one was poorly made, its petals stained with a tiny, dried speck of blood from his finger.

I picked it up, then set it back down.

"Is this sad little thing a practice run for the rose on your desk? It looks like a freebie they’d throw in with a purchase. I’m not that cheap, Julian."

His face froze, then contorted in anger. "What are you talking about? If you like them, I'll give them all to you."

I just shook my head. "No, thanks."

Julian's reaction was explosive, and I knew exactly why he was so rattled.

Zoe had just posted a picture of a new ring, and by sheer coincidence, the one Julian had given me earlier was a promotional freebie from that exact brand.

As I turned to go back to the study, he grabbed my arm.

"Why are you so mad? Is it because I broke our promise to quit the business together and secretly put on a show?"

"I'm a man, Chloe. I need my own career. Besides, all the money I make is for you, isn't it?"

"You never used to be like this."

Didn't I?

He was right.

I used to believe every word he said, convinced that everything he did was to build a better home for us.

That was until Zoe burst into his world.

Only then did I discover that our joint bank account could be casually dipped into to buy her gifts.

That the passenger seat, where I wasn't even allowed to eat for fear of crumbs, could be filled with another woman's snack wrappers.

His principles could be broken for someone else, just not for me.

I watched the clock on the wall tick past midnight.

With the last ounce of gentleness I could muster, I spoke softly. "It's been ten years. We've both changed."

"Julian, we should break…"

My words were cut off by his ringing phone.

He answered it instinctively.

A bubbly voice chirped from the other end: "Open up! Your super-cute protégée is here!"

Even he didn't notice how the deep furrow in his brow instantly smoothed out.

"It's Zoe," he said, turning to me. "She brought something for me. I'll just go grab it."

What kind of delivery service runs this late at night?

A cold smile touched my lips. "It's freezing out there. Why don't you just let her in?"

A flash of relief crossed Julian’s face. He quickly straightened his shirt and opened the door.

His voice was dripping with an unconscious fondness. "You must have been waiting. Come on in."

Zoe peeked her head in, her movements freezing for a split second when she saw me.

She recovered quickly. "I knew you’d be too careless to get a cake for the birthday boy, Chloe, so I took care of it."

"Wow, I didn't realize you were still up! I bought a cake for two, but if we take small slices, it should be enough for three."