. CHAPTER 2 — The Price of Love
Jessica did not whisper. That was the cruelest part.
She could have ended it quietly. She could have leaned across the candlelight and said she was tired, afraid, confused, anything soft enough to leave them both with dignity. But dignity had never impressed her friends, and Jessica had spent the last year collecting people who measured life in watches, cars, and last names.
“I want a future,” she said. “A real one. Not rent payments, discount flowers, and promises written on paper.”
Several nearby guests looked over.
Ethan’s jaw tightened, but he stayed seated.
Jessica mistook his silence for weakness. She reached down, picked up the folded paper from his hand, and held it between two fingers.
“This is what you always give me,” she said. “Words. Plans. Dreams. But dreams don’t buy a house. Dreams don’t open doors. Dreams don’t make people respect you.”
Ethan’s voice was low. “Is that what you want? Respect?”
“I want a man who doesn’t have to explain why he can’t afford something.”
A woman at the next table glanced away, uncomfortable. A businessman smirked into his wine.
Ethan rose slowly. He was taller than Jessica remembered when he was not trying to make himself smaller for her comfort.
“You knew who I was when we met,” he said.
“Yes,” she snapped. “And I thought ambition meant something. I thought you were going somewhere.”
He looked around the room, not with shame, but with a kind of sadness that made the candles seem colder.
Jessica’s voice softened only enough to wound deeper. “Ethan, you’re a good man. But good men are everywhere. I need a successful one.”
The waiter returned, nervous. “Ma’am, is everything all right?”
Jessica gave him a polished smile. “Perfect. I’m just ending a mistake.”
The waiter froze.
Ethan touched the edge of the table. “Don’t do this here.”
“Why?” she asked. “Because people will see? Maybe they should. Maybe you need to understand how ridiculous this has become.”
Then she turned, making sure her voice carried.
“He brought me here to talk about marriage,” she said. “Can you imagine? A man who can barely afford his own life asking me to share it.”
A few faces shifted. Some looked embarrassed. Others leaned in for the entertainment.
Ethan closed his eyes once.
When he opened them, the hurt was still there, but it had hardened into something else.
Jessica placed the paper back on the table.
“I hope someday you become the man you kept pretending to be.”
May you like
Then she turned away, believing she had delivered the final line.
She did not see the black-suited man entering the restaurant behind her.
