Chapter 1

Three years of marriage, and Hunter and I never once shared a meal.

I lived on fish. Every meal. Hunter claimed the smell made him gag.

Once, I cooked fish at home. He threw his plate against the wall and froze me out for a solid month.

After that, I learned to play nice. He ate inside. I ate my fish out on the back porch.

Three years. Every single day.

Then my birthday rolled around. I drove down to the fish market to pick up some fresh fish for a stew.

I passed a new stall on the corner — and my heart just stopped.

Hunter was crouched on the ground. A ratty apron, smeared with fish guts, hung from his neck.

Knife in hand, he scaled and gutted the fish like he’d been doing it his whole life.

A young woman stood beside him with a plate of sashimi. She dipped a piece in soy sauce and fed it straight into his mouth.

He opened wide. Swallowed it down like candy.

The market was loud. Shouting, haggling, carts banging past.

But standing there in the middle of it all, I'd never felt so quiet inside.

Because just like that — I stopped loving him.

...

The market sat right by the docks. Fishermen rolled in all morning, dragging coolers past my ankles.

Loading. Unloading. Shouting prices.

By noon, the sun was blazing. The customers thinned out. The whole place reeked like rot.

I was still standing in that alley.

Hunter had been gutting fish since sunrise without lifting his head once.

Now, finally done, he peeled off his rubber gloves and let out a long breath.

The girl saw it and jumped in with a tissue, dabbing his forehead.

They smiled at each other.

He stroked her hair, soft as anything, and kissed her.

My chest cracked open.

Not because he was cheating. I'd already seen that part.

It was the three years of me tiptoeing around his lies. Three years of eating alone on the porch so he wouldn't smell fish on my breath. Three years of being ordered to rinse my mouth five times before he'd even touch me.

And this girl? She'd just fed him raw fish. No rinse. No fuss.

Right there, in the stink of dead fish, he was kissing her like she was oxygen.

My stomach rolled. I thought I might throw up.

I started walking.

My heels clicked on the pavement — click, click, click.

They heard me coming and jumped apart.

"Ma'am, can I help—"

Hunter had his customer-service smile on. Then he saw me and went white as a sheet.

I didn't look at him. Didn't care what his face was doing.

I pulled out my wallet and spoke to the girl.

"I'd like a fish. The biggest one you've got."

She didn't know who I was. She glanced back at the empty tanks, apologetic.

"I'm so sorry, pretty lady — we're all sold out. Can I take an order for tomorrow?"

I shook my head. Calm as a Sunday.

"I'm not late. I got here the moment this market opened."

Hunter stiffened. His fingers started to shake.

"Oh… then why are you only buying now?"

I smiled at her.

"Isn't now the perfect time? Besides, there's still one left."

She turned on instinct. Floating belly-up in the tank was a dead fish nobody'd bothered to toss.

She waved her hands fast.

"Honey, that one's dead. Not fresh. I can't sell you that."

I kept smiling.

"That's fine. It's dead, not dirty. Just knock a few bucks off the price."

"After all — today's my birthday."

Hunter's head snapped up. His face twisted.

The girl's eyes flickered. A little gleam of victory. She faked a reluctant nod.

"Well… okay. But my boyfriend can't clean it for you. He's been working all morning, poor thing's exhausted—"

I didn't even get to answer.

Hunter was already scooping the dead fish out, snapping his gloves back on.

"It's fine, Yuna. I got it. Just one more."

Yuna. So that was her name.

She shot me a sorry little smile, popped up on her toes, and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks, baby."

Something in my chest went tight. I couldn't breathe.

Hunter stunned the fish and glanced over.

"How do you want it?"

"Sashimi."

His hand froze again.

He pressed his lips together. Took forever to answer.

"This one's not fresh enough for sashimi. You'll get sick."

I looked at him. Something hot and sad crawled up my throat.

"Is this fish not fresh today? Or has it just never been fresh?"

He flinched. Dropped the knife. Threw the fish back in the tank.

"I'm sorry. I can't sell you this one."

"I always eat fish on my birthday."

He just stood there. Lost.

Yuna finally picked up on it. She tilted her head.

"Hunt… you two know each other?"

Hunter's eyes shot to mine, wild.

He was begging me. Begging me to say no.

Three years of marriage, and this was the first thing he'd ever actually asked me for.

And it was for her.

Whatever warm little ember I had left — it went out.

I closed my eyes. Gave him what he wanted.

"No. I don't know him."

Then I turned around. Eyes burning. And I walked.

What he didn't know, standing there in that bloody apron?

I wasn't walking away from the fish.

I was walking away from him.

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