Signed and Sealed

The champagne cork popped like a gunshot.

I flinched. Couldn't help it.

Three years of marriage, and I still wasn't used to celebrations that weren't mine.

"To Ethan Cole!" Marcus raised his glass, grinning like he'd won something himself. "The youngest partner in Sterling & Associates history!"

The rooftop bar erupted. Cheers, applause, the clink of crystal against crystal. Everyone pressed toward my husband like he was magnetic north.

I stood at the edge of the crowd, clutching my own glass of champagne I hadn't sipped.

His wife. That's what I am tonight. That's all I am.

"Mira!" Someone grabbed my elbow. Diane from HR, three drinks deep and swaying. "You must be so proud! All those late nights finally paid off, huh?"

I smiled. The one I'd perfected. "He worked so hard for this."

"You're such a good wife." She patted my arm like I was a golden retriever. "Supporting him through everything."

Good wife.

The words settled in my chest like stones.

I watched Ethan across the rooftop, his hand on the small of Rebecca's back as she whispered something in his ear. His junior associate. Twenty-six. Legs for days. The kind of laugh that made men stupid.

He threw his head back, laughing at whatever she'd said.

When was the last time I made him laugh like that?

Don't.

I drained my champagne in one long swallow.

---

The speech came forty minutes later.

Ethan stood at the makeshift podium, all sharp jawline and easy confidence. The city glittered behind him like it had been arranged for his backdrop.

"I couldn't have done this without the incredible team at Sterling," he said, his voice carrying that practiced warmth. "Marcus, for believing in me when I was just a cocky associate with too many opinions—"

Laughter rippled through the crowd.

"—and to everyone who put in the hours, the weekends, the sacrifices."

I straightened. This was it. The part where he'd look at me, find me in the crowd, say something that made the last three years feel worth it.

Please.

"To my incredible team. You know who you are." He raised his glass. "This partnership belongs to all of us."

The crowd cheered.

I stood frozen.

That's it?

No mention of the dinners I'd eaten alone. The vacations cancelled. The nights I'd fallen asleep waiting for him to come home, only to wake up to his side of the bed still cold.

I wasn't even a footnote.

Someone jostled past me to get to the bar. I barely felt it.

Three years.

I'd put my own career on hold. Turned down the promotion in Seattle because Ethan said he needed me here. Smiled through every firm event, every client dinner, every moment I'd made myself smaller so he could take up more space.

And I wasn't worth a single sentence.

Rebecca caught my eye from across the rooftop. She raised her glass with a smirk that said she knew exactly what she was doing.

My champagne flute trembled in my hand.

---

I found him twenty minutes later, holding court by the bar.

"Ethan." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "Can we talk?"

He glanced at me like I was interrupting something important. Which, to him, I probably was.

"Now? Mira, I'm kind of in the middle of—"

"Now."

Something in my tone made him pause. The men around him exchanged looks.

"Give me a minute," Ethan said, all smooth apology. He took my elbow—too hard—and steered me toward the quieter edge of the rooftop.

The city sprawled beneath us. All those lights. All those lives.

None of them know I'm disappearing.

"What's wrong with you?" He kept his voice low, but the irritation cut through. "This is my night, Mira."

"Your night." I laughed, and it sounded wrong. Brittle. "Right. Your night. Your partnership. Your team. Your incredible junior associate who can't seem to keep her hands off you."

His jaw tightened. "Don't start."

"Start what? Noticing? Because I've been noticing for months, Ethan. The late nights. The texts you delete. The way you look at her like—"

"Like what?"

"Like you used to look at me."

The words hung between us. Ethan's expression flickered—guilt, maybe, or just annoyance that I'd ruined his moment.

"You're being paranoid." He ran a hand through his hair. "Rebecca is my colleague. That's it."

"Then why didn't you mention me in your speech?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Your speech. You thanked everyone. Marcus. The team. The goddamn caterers, probably." My voice cracked, and I hated myself for it. "But not me. Not your wife."

"Mira—"

"Three years." I stepped closer, and he actually stepped back. "I gave up Seattle for you. I've spent every weekend alone while you 'worked late.' I have made myself so small, Ethan, and you couldn't even say my name."

For a moment, something shifted in his face. Something almost human.

Then it was gone.

"This isn't the time." He straightened his tie, already looking past me. "We'll talk at home."

"No."

The word surprised us both.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no." My heart hammered against my ribs. "We're not doing this anymore. The deflecting. The dismissing. The making me feel crazy for wanting basic acknowledgment."

"You're making a scene."

"Good." I smiled, and it felt like cracking ice. "Maybe someone should."

Ethan's eyes went cold. That look I'd learned to dread—the one that said I'd crossed a line, and there would be consequences.

"We're leaving." He grabbed my wrist. "Now."

"Let go of me."

"Mira—"

"I said let go."

I wrenched my arm free. The motion was too sharp, too sudden. My elbow connected with a passing waiter's tray.

Champagne glasses shattered against the concrete.

The rooftop went silent.

Every head turned toward us. Toward me. Standing in a puddle of expensive champagne, chest heaving, mascara probably smeared.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Rebecca's laugh cut through the silence. High and delighted.

"Oh my god." She didn't even try to hide her amusement. "Ethan, is she okay?"

Something inside me snapped.

Not broke. Snapped. Like a rubber band pulled too tight, finally released.

I looked at my husband. Really looked at him. The man I'd rearranged my entire life for. The man who couldn't spare me a single sentence.

He was already moving toward Rebecca. Already choosing her.

Of course he is.

"Mira." His voice carried that warning tone. "Go wait in the car. I'll handle this."

Handle this. Handle me. Like I was a problem to be managed.

I started laughing.

Ethan froze. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing." I wiped my eyes, still laughing. "Absolutely nothing. For the first time in three years, nothing is wrong with me."

I turned and walked toward the elevator.

"Where are you going?" he called after me. "Mira!"

I didn't look back.

The elevator doors opened. I stepped inside, pressed the lobby button, and caught one last glimpse of Ethan's face.

Confused. Angry. Maybe even scared.

Good.

The doors slid closed.

My reflection stared back at me in the polished metal. Smeared lipstick. Wild eyes. A woman I barely recognized.

So this is who I am now.

I smiled at her.

She smiled back.

---

The lobby was empty except for a bored security guard scrolling his phone. My heels echoed against marble as I walked toward the exit.

My phone buzzed. Ethan.

I declined the call.

It buzzed again. And again.

I turned it off.

The night air hit me like a slap—cold, sharp, alive. I stood on the sidewalk, the city pulsing around me, and realized I had no idea where to go.

Home wasn't home anymore. It was his apartment. His furniture. His life I'd been living like a borrowed coat.

So what now?

A taxi pulled up. The driver looked at me expectantly.

I thought about the woman I'd been an hour ago. Quiet. Accommodating. Invisible.

Then I thought about the woman in the elevator. The one with wild eyes and a smile that meant war.

I got in the taxi.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

I gave him my sister's address. The sister I hadn't called in eight months because Ethan said she was "too much drama."

Time to be too much.

The city blurred past the window. Somewhere above me, my husband was explaining away his crazy wife to a roomful of people who'd never see me as anything more than a footnote.

That was fine.

Footnotes could be rewritten.

And I was just getting started.