Chapter 2: The Hollow in the Heart

When I got home, my suitcase from the trip was still by the door. On the table sat the bouquet Colton had given me when he picked me up. "My wife is finally home. Tonight, everyone’s here for you."

The flowers were already starting to wilt, petals curling at the edges. I ran my fingers over the card, the ink smudged from travel. The words felt hollow now. I stared at them, wondering if they’d ever meant anything at all.

When we got to the winery, my first thought was that it was over the top.

The place looked like a wedding reception—white tablecloths, fairy lights strung up, a jazz trio playing in the corner. It was all for show, every detail carefully staged. I felt overdressed, out of place, and strangely small.

Colton looked a little awkward, glancing away. "It’s just a welcome dinner. It’s not like we do this all the time."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. His voice was defensive, like he had to justify the whole production. I tried to smile, but it felt fake. I wondered if he noticed.

But my job has me traveling a lot. Back then, I missed the subtext. Looking back now, it just makes me madder.

I thought about all the birthdays, anniversaries, holidays I’d missed—always promising to make it up. Maybe this was his way of punishing me, or maybe it was just an excuse to do what he wanted while I was gone.

My friends called. "Lauren, you booked such a big table. Where are you?"

Their voices sparkled with excitement. I could hear dishes clattering, people talking in the background. They sounded happy, totally unaware of the mess on my end.

In the background, I heard a kid’s excited voice. "Mom and Dad, I want ice cream!"

The little voice was high and insistent, cutting through the adult chatter. I pictured Ellie, chocolate smeared on her cheeks, tugging Colton’s sleeve. The image almost made me smile.

On the other end, Savannah laughed. "Colton, you finally get to play Dad this time."

Her laughter was light and teasing. I could just see her leaning in, elbowing him. The words stung, a reminder of the roles we were all playing in this little drama.

Colton’s voice was tinged with laughter. "Ellie’s already had plenty of sweets. No more today—maybe tomorrow, okay? Daddy will buy it for you."

He sounded relaxed, even happy. That easy warmth I hadn’t heard from him in ages. I wondered when he’d last spoken to me like that.

My friend on the phone gasped. "Lauren, that guy looks a lot like your husband..."

Her voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping in. I could hear the question she didn’t want to ask. I didn’t have the energy to explain, so I just let the silence stretch.

I still didn’t go back to the winery.

I sat on the couch, staring at the bouquet, the untouched dinner on the table. My phone buzzed with messages I ignored. For once, I let the world spin on without me.

When Colton got home, it was already past 3 a.m.

The door creaked open, his footsteps dragging on the floor. He looked exhausted, eyes rimmed red. He carried a takeout box, the smell of matcha filling the room.

"Why aren’t you asleep yet?" He set a takeout box on the table. "Savannah was worried you’d be hungry, so she asked me to bring this for you."

He didn’t look at me, busying himself with the container. His voice was soft, almost apologetic. I watched him, wondering if he even realized how ridiculous this all was.

My gaze drifted over the clear container as Colton opened it and set it in front of me. Green matcha mousse—with a chunk scooped out of the middle.

The missing piece was obvious. A jagged hole right in the center. I stared at it, the symbolism plain as day. My appetite disappeared, replaced by a cold, empty ache in my gut.

His expression froze. After a long moment, he tried to explain. "I packed two, but Ellie got hungry in the car and took a bite. She probably grabbed the wrong one when she got out..."

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away. The excuse was flimsy, and we both knew it. I watched him, waiting for him to say something real.

"She didn’t grab the wrong one." I pointed at the hollowed-out center. "Green on the outside, a missing heart in the middle. Isn’t that exactly what Savannah wanted to say?"

My voice was quiet, but the words hit hard. I watched his face for any flicker of guilt. He looked away, jaw tight.

Colton frowned. "It’s just a kid taking a bite of cake. Do you have to read so much into it?"

He sounded tired, exasperated. Like I was the one making trouble. I let out a brittle laugh. I was so done pretending.

I looked up. "Read too much into it? Then what counts as not reading too much? When I catch you and Savannah in bed together?"

The words tumbled out, raw and unfiltered. The room went still, the tension thick enough to choke on. I watched him, daring him to deny it.

A flash of panic crossed Colton’s eyes. "What are you even talking about? You read too many romance novels. If you’re in a bad mood, let’s talk later. All this suspicion is nuts. I think this trip messed with your head!"

He threw up his hands, voice rising. He looked at me like I was crazy, like none of this was on him. The anger in his eyes was real—and so was the fear.

He stormed off and slammed the guest room door behind him.

The sound echoed through the apartment, rattling the picture frames. I stared at the mousse, that hollow center mocking me. For the first time, I wondered if there was anything left to save.

I sat there for a long time, the silence pressing in. The city lights outside flickered, cold and far away. I thought about everything we’d lost—maybe everything we never had. The ache in my chest just got heavier.