A guilty look flashed across Xavier’s face as he went to the kitchen to get me a plate.

I shook my head. “No, thanks. You two enjoy.”

I went back into the study. Through the thin wooden door, I could hear their cheerful laughter.

They discussed everything from cake flavors to flower varieties, and which color of velvet flower would suit Sophie best.

Late that night, Xavier knocked on the door. “I just saw your post. You misunderstood. I didn’t design that dress.”

“Sophie’s mother gave me the design sketches three months ago. She begged me to complete it, said she wanted to see her daughter in a wedding gown.”

“You know I lost my mom when I was young. I have a hard time saying no to other mothers.”

A smile played on my lips.

Didn’t that contradict what he said earlier tonight?

And a design I had seen ten years ago was supposedly drawn by some woman three months ago.

Wasn’t that ridiculous?

Still, I said, “Really?”

“Really,” he said, his voice firm.

If he says so, then so be it.

I didn’t care anymore.

But he didn’t leave. He continued, “It’s late. You can sleep in the study tonight. I’ll take the couch, and let’s have Sophie sleep in the bedroom.”

I stared into his eyes.

A thousand words turned into a single, flat, “Whatever.”

I didn’t care about this either.

It wasn’t the first time, anyway.

Our house was close to Xavier’s company, so Sophie often stayed over when she worked late.

We would have breakfast together in the morning.

One time, Xavier made peanut butter toast.

The moment I took a bite, my throat started itching from the allergy.

I wanted to ask him to take me to the hospital.

But he was completely engrossed in his conversation with Sophie. “You like sweet things, don’t you? How’s the breakfast?”

My mind went blank.

Why did he remember Sophie’s tastes so clearly?

I wanted to ask him, if he made breakfast to her taste, why did he make a portion for me too?

But their endless chatter gave me no room to speak.

After they finished eating, he immediately left to drive Sophie to work.

He never even noticed my face was flushed red, that I was gasping for air.

I’ve always been allergic to peanuts. In college, Xavier wouldn’t even allow nuts to be in the same room as me.

Once, a friend carelessly handed me a cookie with peanuts.

He immediately smacked it to the ground. “Don’t you know Sienna’s allergic? Don’t let it happen again, or you’ll have to deal with me.”

The memory overlapped with the present, and I covered my face and wept.

After a sleepless night, I quietly packed my suitcase in the walk-in closet.

I left early the next morning and went to the studio to handle my resignation.

Before I left, a notification popped up on my phone.

It was from Chloe: [Here’s the Paris work manual. Take care of yourself over there.]

I was about to reply when my thumb slipped and opened my social media feed.

Sophie had posted a video. In it, she was wearing my apron, cooking in our kitchen.

Xavier, who had just woken up, came up from behind and hugged her. The moment he realized it wasn’t me, he let go.

But Sophie grabbed him and pulled him into a deep kiss.

The caption read: [I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time.]

[Even if it’s stolen happiness, I’ll take it.]

I stared at the video, stunned.

After ten years together, I couldn’t believe Xavier would mistake someone else for me.

Even a stranger could tell the difference between me, tall with long hair, and Sophie, a short little potato with a bob cut.

My phone slipped from my hand, the screen cracking with a sickening snap.

Just like my heart.

As I bent down to pick it up, people arrived at the studio.

They were arguing loudly.