Where Love Began to Hurt Ch 2

Chapter 2
Adelia stepped into the elevator in a daze.
By the time she snapped out of it, the elevator had already stopped at B1.
A cheerful intern approached her. “Here to see Ms. Gwen Keith’s art exhibit? Please follow me.”
Only then did Adelia realize—she’d forgotten to press a floor.
As if possessed, she walked into the gallery.
The intern trailed behind, still chirping, “This whole exhibit was funded by Mr. Fargeat. There’s a national tour planned next.”
Adelia’s gaze landed on an oil painting.
It was a man’s bare back. Toned muscles. A distinct scar on his lower back.
She had traced that scar a thousand times in the dark. She knew exactly who it was.
Gwen had painted Ethan over and over. Each canvas had a date in the bottom right corner—clear, sharp, and unforgiving.
June 20. Ethan stood in the kitchen, bathed in warm light.
—That was Adelia’s third day being shut in. She’d gone on a hunger strike and passed out from stomach pain. Yet, he was making oatmeal for Gwen.
July 1. Slender hands folded a silk nightgown embroidered with irises. The wedding band on his finger gleamed coldly.
—Her 13th day locked up. She had slit her wrist with a razor. Blood soaked half the bedsheet. Yet, he was folding Gwen’s clothes neatly, carefully.
July 15. He held an umbrella, walking down a tree-lined path. On the edge of the canvas, their fingers were interlaced.
—Her 28th day. Jordan had chained her to the bed, forcing her to give up. She burned with fever, drenched in cold sweat, curled up, and shaking. Yet, he was holding Gwen’s hand, strolling in the morning light.
Each painting was like a needle stabbing into her heart.
So during that pitch-black month, he wasn’t fighting for her. He was with Gwen all along.
The broken mug, the dramatic declarations, and cutting ties with the Keith family were all a cover.
Adelia clenched her fists, nails digging deep into her palms, but she felt nothing.
She couldn’t take it anymore. She turned and left.
—
She scheduled the aborrtion for the next week. Then she went to the old house to pack up her mother’s things.
As soon as she walked in, Jordan tossed her a plane ticket.
“Diana and I have talked. We want Gwen to stay with Ethan until she leaves.
“That flight’s in ten days. Go have some fun. Clear your head.”
Adelia stared at the ticket, lips pressed tight.
She knew exactly what this was—he wanted her out of the way.
Only when she left could they be alone without guilt.
“Lia, don’t take it the wrong way,” Diana sniffled. “We just want to make Gwen’s last days peaceful…” Same tired line. Adelia had heard it too many times.
She cut in flatly, “Got it. I’ll go.”
Ethan? She was done with him.
This house? She didn’t need it either.
Jordan was stunned. He thought she’d finally given up the fight.
He softened a bit. “We’re holding a farewell party for Gwen in three days. Be there.”
“Okay.”
—
Back home, Adelia grabbed a cardboard box. She started packing up everything related to Ethan.
The couple mugs he gave her for his birthday.
Their first movie ticket stubs.
The photo booth strips she forced him to take.
She was nearly done when the door clicked open.
Ethan was back.
He saw the full box, and his chest tightened. He rushed forward.
“Lia, what are you doing?”