chapter2198

Charlotte had wanted to keep working, but Cecilia sent her home. Pregnant and only days from marriage, she deserved at last—a pocket of calm.

Restless, Charlotte asked Chelsea to go shopping with her.

"Lottie, I never knew real work could drain the soul like this," Chelsea groaned, stretching until her joints popped.

Since landing the job, she rose at seven and clocked in by eight. Five o'clock was a rumor; everyone stayed late, and she followed, leaving the office nearer nine- sometimes ten. Once at home, she washed, cooked, and folded laundry. Midnight blinked across the stove clock before she even exhaled.

"Tell you what," Charlotte said, eyes bright. "I'll be on maternity leave after the wedding. How about filling in as Cecilia's assistant?"

Chelsea's head whipped side to side. "If I went to work for Cecilia, my parents would hate her forever."

The idea had tempted Chelsea more than once. She had wanted to work at Cecilia's company.

But her parents had broadcast their decree, warning every business friend not to hire their only daughter. If Cecilia accepted her, a family cold war would ignite; if she refused, Chelsea would feel awkward.

Charlotte heard the logic and sighed, frustration unspooling into the soft spring air. "You're right, too. But you're so tired."

Chelsea drew a long breath, holding it as though the skyline itself might answer.

"I'll just take it day by day," she said at last. "I'm their only child; they can't really cut me loose forever-can they?"

Deep down, she understood her parents' strategy. They wanted her to experience hardship and break up with Jason. But still, Chelsea believed she could outlast their test.

Charlotte didn't know what else to say.

Chelsea shook off the haze of their gloomy conversation, hooked an arm through Charlotte's, and marched them toward the nearest boutique.

During her months at a tiny firm, Chelsea had learned the art of living on pocket change: street-side vendors whose steam fogged up the night air, lightning-fast delivery drivers who braved traffic for two-dollar noodles, coupon apps that turned frugality into sport. These discoveries thrilled her with a hard-won independence. By the time dusk bled lavender across the rooftops, the two women had wandered the malls for hours. Chelsea finally headed back to the apartment with the leftover food she didn't finish at lunch.

Jason arrived home after work. He paused in the doorway, his briefcase still dangling from stiff fingers, startled by the food spread across the dining table.

"What's all this?"

"It was my off day. I went shopping, grabbed some dishes, and couldn't finish them," Chelsea said, half smiling. "I brought the rest home. Want some?"

Jason blinked, as if her words required translation. After a long beat, he stepped closer, the smell of food drifting up to meet him.

"You packed the leftovers?"

He remembered countless past dinners when Chelsea would wave away waiters who offered take-out boxes, declaring food never tasted the same reheated.

"Yeah. It's good stuff. Let me warm it up for you just try a bite," she said, already turning toward the kitchen.

"All right," Jason murmured, nodding once.

Chelsea slid the containers into the microwave with a practiced flick, punched the timer, and leaned against the counter while the machine hummed.

Jason watched from the hallway, guilt unfurling inside him like smoke through rafters.

The Chelsea he first dated had never worried about leftovers or microwaves. Yet here she was, moving with effortless competence, as though necessity had drafted her into a new life overnight.

When the microwave beeped, she pulled the boxes out and offered him

the plate, but Jason didn't reach for slowly.

it. Instead, be exhaleuld break

"Chelsea maybe we should break up.

She froze, plate mid-air, eyes widening until they gleamed with reflected kitchen

light, unable to believe she'd heard correctly.

"What did you just say?"

"I don't think we're right for each other," Jason managed, Adam's apple bobbing.

He had always imagined his modest savings would shelter her, that she could stay with him without ever touching the hard edges of bills and budgets.

Reality mocked that dream. Chelsea hadn't only taken a job; she'd mastered every survival skill he himself still stumbled over. The distance between who she had been and who she now was left Jason rattled-and ashamed.