27 Calls 2 Wristbands 1 Empty Anniversary Chapter 03
The evidence was right there. No room left to deny it.
His voice softened—guilt, maybe, now that the lie was exposed.
“Alright. I meant to go with you. But Maddie said she wanted to go to Coachella that day and couldn’t get wristbands.”
“You know how it is. Maddie and I grew up together. I couldn’t say no. I’ll take you next time, okay?”
He took my hand, rubbing it gently.
That was as close to an apology as Julian ever got.
All I felt was disgust.
I shook his hand off and walked toward the guest room.
Behind me, his voice rose, sharp with anger.
“Sophie! Enough. No one can stand that temper of yours.”
The master bedroom door clicked shut. Locked.
The old me was terrified of that sound. No matter how angry I was, I’d end up at the door, swallowing my pride, begging him to let me in.
Tonight, I just lay in the guest bed. Calm. Went through the divorce papers my lawyer friend Jessica sent. Slept until morning.
The next day, I woke to the sound of a door slamming.
By the time I shuffled out of the guest room, Julian was already gone.
No need to make him breakfast anymore. I fixed myself a plate of avocado toast and brewed a big oat milk latte.
Julian only drank green juice with protein powder in the mornings. He always said avocado toast was a “pretentious millennial thing.” I hadn’t eaten it in years, just to keep the peace.
I ate every bite. Satisfied. Then I went to the study, printed out the divorce papers, slipped them into my bag, and headed to Julian’s office.
At the front desk, the assistant told me I couldn’t go up without an appointment.
Five years of marriage. Julian and I never went public at his firm. He never let me visit. If he forgot a document at home and needed me to bring it, his assistant Emily always came down to get it.
No one there knew who I was.
I called him.
He answered with a scoff. “Oh, so now you’re ready to apologize?”
I paused. “I’m downstairs. I need to see you.”
He hung up. A second later, a location pin and a room number popped up on my phone.
I pushed the door open. Julian was there. So was Maddie. So was the whole group of childhood friends.
One of them, Tripp Vandermeer, glanced at me and made a face.
“Ugh, she’s here? Checking up on him. Way to kill the vibe.”
Chase Whitmore elbowed him in the ribs.
Julian and Maddie grew up in the same Upper East Side circle. Their friends all assumed they’d end up together. In their eyes, the only reason Julian’s wife wasn’t Maddie was because she’d left for Europe after high school.
So they’d never been warm to me.
Early on, I tried. I really tried to win them over, to fit in. But every time I opened my mouth, the room went cold.
Eventually, I stopped trying. I’d just sit there at gatherings, nursing my drink in silence.
Then Maddie came back from Paris. And my position got even more awkward.
That was when it hit me. To them, I’d always been the other woman.
It ate at me for a long time.
I couldn’t understand it. I’d dated Julian normally. We fell in love. Got married. How did that make me the other woman?
I tried talking to Julian about it. But by then, his attention had already drifted to Maddie, fresh off the plane. He had zero patience for my hurt.
But none of that mattered now.
I was about to divorce Julian. What these people thought of me wasn’t my problem anymore.