Aaron stood frozen in the hallway after Keeley's outburst. She fled to the nurse's office, not daring to look at his face. After taking some Tylenol, she curled up on a cot and cried. She couldn't believe she'd yelled at someone who could easily ruin her. She was in serious trouble.

"You look awful," Lydia noted as they entered their last class.

"I may have lost my temper at Aaron at lunch," Keeley confessed. "He's going to kill me."

"First, I can't picture him dancing on anyone's grave," Lydia replied. "Second, are you crazy? I thought you were going to play it cool until he lost interest?"

Keeley felt compelled to explain herself, since Lydia was the only one aware of her history with Aaron—a history that involved a month of forced lunches. Her friend didn't understand why being rumored to be Aaron's girlfriend was worse than actually spending time with someone she hated, but Lydia tried to be supportive. She even helped explain the situation to a bewildered Jeffrey, who nearly had a heart attack when he witnessed Aaron's public display of affection on the first day of their "deal." Lydia was a true friend.

"I couldn't help it," Keeley moaned, running a hand down her face. "I had a bad dream that mixed with memories of AaronI just snapped when I saw his face."

"He's going to kill you," Jeffrey predicted gloomily as he passed.

"I saw him storming down the hallway after lunch," Lydia said. "Everyone he passed practically wet their pants."

"Great," Keeley said weakly. The thought of dropping out of school and moving to Alaska to work on a fishing boat briefly crossed her mind. But no! What could he do that he hadn't already? Her dad had defended Aaron in the past, so she didn't think he'd go after him. She could handle anything, right?

Except he did nothing. Two weeks passed, and he didn't even make eye contact. It was as if she didn't exist. The situation oddly resembled the cold war in their house during their last few years of marriage—the only difference being the lack of spoken words.

Keeley should have been relieved; this was what she wanted! Instead, she worried he was planning something worse, and the silence was a ruse. He was skilled at mind games. She found herself constantly sneaking glances to see if he was watching her, but she never caught him. Maybe he'd lost interest!

Aaron's anger subsided hours after Keeley's outburst. She couldn't truly mean those insults; things had been improving. Lacy must have interfered. The last time Keeley had yelled at him like that was after Lacy confronted her, even telling him to control his "girlfriend." Once his anger cleared, that was the only logical explanation. He needed to find out what Lacy had said, but he didn't want to approach her directly—she was a human migraine. He couldn't ask Keeley, leaving him at an impasse.

However, he had an idea to reignite their relationship. Keeley wanted to be left alone? Fine. He would leave her alone. He was confident she'd return, if only out of guilt. The longer he ignored her, the more he noticed her sneaking glances. His plan was working; she was thinking about him, maybe even missing him. It's basic human psychology: removing something consistent throws people off. Keeley's unease confirmed his strategy. All he had to do was wait for her to make the next move.

Although he disliked ignoring her, Aaron had plenty of practice. He'd done it in his past life to push her away after threats against her escalated. The look on her face the first time he'd tried it still haunted him.

"Aaron, I'm home!" Keeley announced, setting down her purse. She'd spent the day with her father at their old apartment. Some of her old enthusiasm had returned after nearly a year of depression following Lacy and his father's first attempt to ruin her. She hadn't known she was being targeted; she'd thought it was bad luck. But that didn't stop her descent into sadness, a sadness Aaron couldn't penetrate. He was glad she was improving but dreaded their next attack. He lacked sufficient evidence to fight back. Distancing himself might deter them temporarily while he devised a plan. It was his only defense.

He wanted to hold her while she was happy, but he resolutely stared at his laptop when she sat beside him.

"What have you been up to today?" he asked perfunctorily—a question that made his heart soar. She hadn't been aware enough of him for a long time. But he didn't respond.

She seemed surprised by his silence but launched into a description of her day.

He wasn't talkative; she didn't suspect anything.

"Dad and I watched a Yankees game, and I made him eggplant parmesan," she said.

Aaron remained silent. Household staff, all hired by his parents, constantly came and went. He wasn't sure which were spies, so he needed to habitually ignore Keeley when they were around, to fool his father into thinking he didn't love her. If he didn't love her, she wouldn't be a target.

"Aaron?" she asked, confused.

He finally looked at her and coldly said, "I heard you."

Her expression crumbled, and the dullness he hated returned to her eyes.

"Oh. Okay."

She left the room, taking his heart with her. The housekeeper, lurking nearby, witnessed everything. Aaron sighed. Long days lay ahead, but he couldn't have anticipated the damage caused by that single action.