(Juliette's POV)

Dominic held the phone out, his voice tight. "What is this? What request? What's getting cancelled?"

I took the phone from his hand, calm, unhurried.

"It's nothing," I said. "Just a private service I booked a while back. I don't need it anymore, so I cancelled it. Don't read too much into it."

He frowned, studying my face like he could find the lie hidden somewhere in it. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased, though something still sat behind his eyes, unconvinced.

I didn't give him the chance to ask again. My gaze dropped to his collar. There, just above the fabric, a mark. Someone had tried to hide it, tugging the collar up, but the morning light caught it anyway.

Something in my chest twisted. I let it pass, tugged the corner of my mouth into something like a smile.

"I didn't sleep well last night," I said. "I think I want to get some air. Maybe go to the mall."

His face lit up immediately, that particular brightness that only ever showed up when guilt was chewing at him.

"I'll come with you," he said. "We can go together."

I didn't want to go. But I knew better than to let anything slip in these last twenty-nine days. He's just trying to smooth over what he did last night with a shopping trip, I thought bitterly. I said nothing. I grabbed a jacket and followed him out the door.

The mall was packed, sunlight pouring through the glass ceiling overhead, too bright, too sharp. Dominic walked close beside me the whole way, angling himself to block the sun from my eyes, nudging past the crowd so I wouldn't get jostled. He did it without thinking, like muscle memory.

I looked away and let a small, unfamiliar kind of scorn settle in my throat. The more natural his tenderness looked, the more ridiculous it felt.

We stepped into a boutique. The saleswoman pulled out a velvet dress, deep wine red, cut clean and simple.

"This one's beautiful on you," she said.

Dominic stood behind me. "Get it. Get whatever you like."

"Classic stuff is so boring," a woman's voice came from behind us. I turned around - it was the woman from last night.

She had a sequined mini dress hanging from her fingers. "Something like this has way more life to it. Younger. Fresher."

Our eyes met. I knew her face. She was the woman from the garden last night. Obviously she knew me too.

She held the sequined dress up against herself, tilting her head toward me. "Some women get to an age where a cut like that just makes them look old."

I didn't raise my voice. I picked the velvet dress back up, smoothing my hand over the fabric.

"Trends change every season," I said. "Cheap stuff people forget by next year. But a real design, something that holds up over time - that's what a woman with any sense actually wears."

I let my eyes flick to the dress in her hand for exactly one second. That was enough.

Her face fell. She turned toward Dominic like she expected him to jump in.

He didn't. He looked at the saleswoman instead. "Wrap up the velvet one. Show her anything else she likes."

She clearly hadn't expected me to push back. Her face crumpled, lip trembling, as if she were about to cry.

She glanced at Dominic, then turned and walked out.

Dominic's eyes followed her, and for a second his feet actually shifted that direction before he caught himself and stopped.

I saw it. Every bit of it. I let out a small laugh, turned toward another rack, picked up a few of the highest-priced pieces without even checking the tags.

"I want these too," I said.

He didn't hesitate. Card out, done. "Who else am I supposed to spoil if not you?"

I just smiled and said nothing.

Outside the boutique, I had no energy left for any of it.

"Sit here," Dominic said, pointing to a bench in the atrium. "I'll grab you a caramel latte."

He came back a few minutes later, peeled back the lid, angled the straw toward my mouth like I couldn't do it myself.

I took the cup. A thought crossed my mind - he probably does this for her too.

My phone buzzed.

It was an anonymous message, but I knew it was her. No context needed. She spelled it out - she and Dominic, last night, together, how much he liked her. Then a bet, plain as day. She said he'd ditch me for her before the hour was up.

I held the phone. Some small part of me still hoped he wouldn't make it that easy.

Then I watched him glance down at his own phone, and the corner of his mouth curled, just slightly, just enough.

He looked back up, face composed again.

"Something came up at the office," he said. "Have the driver take you home."

I looked at the screenshot she sent. I understood everything.

"Okay," I said. "Go ahead."

He blinked. I hadn't clung to him, hadn't pouted, hadn't done any of the things I used to do. Just calm, flat, nothing underneath it. He hesitated for half a second, phone buzzing again in his hand, then turned and walked off into the crowd.

Once he was gone, I dropped the latte into the trash can beside the bench.

She sent another photo. Caption: The one who isn't loved is the real outsider here.

I stared at it for a few seconds, then replied: Thank you for picking up the garbage I threw away.

I flipped the phone face-down on my lap, closed my eyes, and sat there a long time in all that noise.

Back home, I kept packing. I pulled some old design textbooks and sketch drafts from the back of the study cabinet, the paper edges gone soft and yellow, the lines still sharp. I folded them into the suitcase one by one.

If I hadn't chosen this marriage, I thought, my life might have looked completely different by now.

I walked to the calendar on the wall and marked an X through the 25th.

Twenty-eight days left.

When Dominic came home and saw the row of red X's lined up across the squares, his face went still.

"What is this?" he asked. "Some kind of countdown?"