AT MY WEDDING, MY WIFE BLINDFOLDED ME FOR A PRANK—WHEN I TOOK IT OFF, 140 PEOPLE WERE LAUGHING, AND THE VIDEO FOLLOWED US HOME

Two weeks later, the ink on the separation agreement was dry.

The house in Hyde Park had been listed for quick sale, the proceeds split evenly down the middle according to the formula Vance had drawn up. I packed my remaining clothes into two suitcases, loaded them into the back of my car, and drove across the river to a small, modern loft apartment in Covington that had exposed brick walls, high ceilings, and absolutely no history.

It was quiet. Too quiet, at first.

On a Saturday morning in mid-May, exactly one month after our wedding day, I sat at my new kitchen island with a cup of black coffee, looking out the large arched windows at the Cincinnati skyline across the Ohio River. The sun was warm, cutting golden ribbons across the hardwood floor.

My phone sat beside my coffee cup, face down, silent. I had deleted all my social media apps permanently. I didn't care about the video anymore. Whether it had reached one million views or ten million, it belonged to a past life—to a version of Ethan Cole who still believed that love meant enduring humiliation just to keep the peace.

A knock sounded at my apartment door.

I set my mug down and walked across the room, unlocking the heavy wooden door and pulling it open.

Nate stood on the threshold, holding a cardboard box in one arm and a six-pack of craft beer in the other. He grinned, his eyes bright.

"Are you going to let me in, or do I have to stand out here in the hallway like a solicitor?"

I stepped back, a genuine, unforced smile breaking across my face for the first time in weeks. "Get in here before I change my locks."

Nate walked past me, setting the box down on the counter—it was filled with my old engineering textbooks and a few tools I had left at his place years ago. He popped open two beers, handed me one, and raised his bottle.

"To new ventilation systems," Nate said, clinking his bottle against mine.