Ryan answered quietly, “Good. Once it’s signed, she won’t be able to touch it.”
Those words didn’t belong in a marriage.
Maya called my name from behind me. I forced a smile and waved, pretending nothing was wrong. We hugged. I wished her luck in London. My voice stayed steady, which scared me more than tears would have.
When I turned back, Ryan kissed the woman’s cheek. She rolled her suitcase toward the gate. Ryan checked his phone—and then finally saw me.
His expression shifted instantly into the warm, familiar mask of a devoted husband.
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