Chapter 1 Crying Is Bad for the Eyes

It had been three months since I married Noah Stillman. To be exact, three months since I was married to him while carrying my ex's baby. Dinner tonight was simple—sautéed vegetables in a pan and some discounted groundbeef Noah had managed to snag from the market before it sold out. He mixed in a lot of breadcrumbs and flour, then grilled it into a meatloaf patty that at least looked halfway decent. "Eat more, Louise," he said as he slid the plate toward me, smiling in that overly careful way. "You're eating for two now." Noah was painfully ordinary, the kind of man one would lose instantly in a crowd. He wore thick black-rimmed glasses, a cheap button-up shirt with frayed cuffs, which he wore year-round. He worked as an assistant librarian at the city library, earning a fixed paycheck of barely enough to get by each month—no benefits, no promotion track, no real future. I stared at the patty, and my stomach suddenly twisted. "I'm gonna be sick." I clasped a hand over my mouth and rushed into the narrow bathroom. I threw up until my vision blurred, emptying everything I had managed to eat today. Noah panicked. He stood outside the bathroom, holding a thermos flask, hesitating whether to come in and help me out. The way he looked so flustered resembled a child who had committed a foolish mistake. "I'm sorry, Louise," he said quietly. "Was the meat not fresh? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have tried to save money by getting processed meat…" He kept apologizing, just as he always did since the first day we met. "I'm sorry, I don't have enough for a cab… I'm sorry, the soundproofing is bad here… I'm sorry, I made you suffer along with me." Tears and snot streaked down my face as I took the water Noah handed me and rinsed my mouth. I stared at the reflection in the mirror and saw a pale, hollow-eyed woman. Was this still Louise Gray, the once dazzling heiress of the Gray family, untouchable and adored across Delmonta? Back then, my fiancé was Maverick Cross, Delmonta's youngest general in history. The water I drank was flown in from glacial springs, the meat I ate came from the finest private ranches, and even a small cut of my finger would bring a flurry of attendants fussing over me. Now, I was stuck in this cramped, crumbling space I called home, with a man who had neither status nor money. All I could do was snap at him. "Can you be more like a man for once? Stop apologizing to me all the time!" I shouted, hurling the water cup into the sink. Frightened by my outburst, Noah dipped his head and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "I'm so—I mean, I'll do better, I promise. The library might distribute a winter allowance of 200 dollars next month. I'll use it to get you better meat." Did he say 200 dollars? That was even less than what Maverick used to tip his valet driver. I stared at Noah, the pitiful man fumbling in front of me, and somehow, the anger in my chest found nowhere to go. It vanished instantly, leaving only a hollow ache. "Forget it. Let's eat," I muttered, pushing myself back into the wobbling chair at the tiny table. His eyes lit up when he saw I was no longer angry. He carefully reheated the now-cold patty, then placed it in front of me as if it were a precious relic. That night, I ate the flour-heavy patty in silence, tears falling in thick drops straight onto the plate. He sat across from me, reaching out awkwardly to wipe them away, only to pull back and mumble, "Don't cry, Louise. It's bad for your eyes." He didn't know that I wasn't crying over the meat. Instead, I was crying over a love that had died and mourning a life that had turned to ashes in my hands.