Chapter 2 THE GHOST OF US

AVRIELLE'S POV

“Good morning, mon trésor.”

The words were a warm velvet weight against the morning air. I blinked, my eyelashes fluttering against the sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains.

Kayden was sitting right there, perched on the edge of the mattress, his fingers tracing the line of my forehead with a tenderness that felt almost illegal.

I forced a small, sleepy smile. “Good morning.”

My mind flashed back to last night—the look on his face when I’d asked for twenty-four hours of us. He’d looked like a man who’d just been shot in the foot, caught between the guilt of his diary and the performance of his marriage. But he’d recovered quickly, whispering, “Sure, if that’s what you want, mon trésor.”

“Breakfast in bed,” he beamed, reaching for a tray on the nightstand.

It was simple—tea and toast—but the sight of it made my chest ache.

It felt like the old days. Before the accident and even after the accident, during those long, grueling months in the hospital, he’d spoon-fed me every single morning. He’d been my hands when I felt like I had nobody left.

“I should probably brush my teeth first,” I mumbled, feeling the dry weight of morning breath. “I’m a mess.”

Before I could pull away, he leaned in, pressing a sweet, lingering peck to my lips.

I recoiled instinctively, my breath hitching in my throat. I was stunned. How could he kiss me like that while dreaming of a divorce?

“I told you, none of that matters to me,” he muttered, already breaking off a piece of toast and nudging it against my lips.

I let him feed me.

I sat there like a doll, propped up by the pillows he’d carefully arranged behind my back. Each sip of tea felt like a swallow of bittersweet nostalgia.

Seeing him like this—the twenty-year-old Kayden who used to worship the ground I walked on—made the tears sting the back of my throat. I had to swallow hard to keep them from falling.

“Get ready,” he said, setting the empty tray aside. “We’re going out.”

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Before I could reach for the edge of the bed to drag myself toward my wheelchair, his arms were under me. He lifted me effortlessly, his scent filling my lungs.

He tucked me into the chair, and I quickly rolled myself into the bathroom, my heart racing so fast it felt like it might burst through my ribs.

When I finished my bath and rolled back into the bedroom, I stopped short.

Laid out on the bed was a stunning gown and matching jewelry. My breath hitched. This was exactly what he’d done the night he asked me to be his girlfriend—prom night. I stared at the fabric, wondering if the boy who loved me was still buried somewhere deep inside this stranger.

Buzz.

My phone vibrated on the duvet. I picked it up, and the air left my lungs.

It was an image from Esterosa. A direct hit.

In the photo, Kayden was wrapped around her in front of a boutique, looking at her with a raw, adoring gaze I hadn’t seen in years. The caption was a jagged blade: Leave him alone…He deserves better. He deserves happiness, too.

I stared at the screen until the image blurred. She sent these every morning, just like a reminders that I was the anchor dragging him down.

I shoved the phone facedown on the bed and took a shuddering breath. I didn’t have time for her. I had twenty-four hours left of being a wife, and I was going to swallow the pain until I was thirty thousand feet in the air.

I got dressed, my fingers trembling as I fastened the jewelry.

When I rolled into the living room, Kayden was waiting. He walked over, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and kissed me again.

“You’re so beautiful, mon trésor.”

“Thank you,” I lied, smiling back.

We hit the road soon and I couldn't help but stare out at the streets I hadn’t seen in two years. I stared out the window, realizing how much the world had moved on while I was stuck in a house that had become my gilded cage.

But when the car finally pulled to a stop, my heart nearly leaped out of my chest.

The treehouse.

“You kept it?” I whispered as he lifted me into my chair.

This was his twentieth birthday gift to me. The place where we’d pasted every photo, every ticket stub, every memory of us. We rolled inside, and the walls were a collage of our lives. My younger self stared back at me—standing on two legs, laughing, vibrant.

Tears finally spilled over.

I missed my legs. I missed the girl who didn’t know what heartbreak felt like.

Kayden reached out, his thumb catching a tear before it could hit my dress. “It’s okay,” he murmured. He tried to crack a few jokes to lighten the mood, but when he saw they weren’t working, he pulled out a dusty chessboard.

“No way,” I laughed, my voice watery. “You still have the Queen’s Gambit set?”

“Of course,” he said, his eyes softening. “It’s a cherished memory. I wouldn’t let it fade away.” I gave a faint smile.

Cherished memory.

To him, were we already a memory?

“I dare you, Chess Queen,” he challenged, setting up the pieces. “I’m beating you in your own abode today.”

“Try me,” I countered.

We played for hours. I beat him so many times I lost count, laughing until my sides ached and more tears fell—this time from joy. It was the first time in a month I’d forgotten about the diary.

“I haven’t seen you laugh that genuinely in a long time,” Kayden said softly, his gaze fixed on my face.

The laughter died instantly. I looked away, the weight of the secret returning to settle on my shoulders. How could I tell him that he was the reason the laughter had stopped?

I took a shaky breath and looked at the door.

“Kayden?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to go somewhere else. One last stop.”

He tilted his head. “Where to?”

I met his gaze, my voice steady despite the ache in my soul.

“To see your parents. I want to visit my in-laws.”