Chapter 4

My mom opened the door, her hug tight. My dad made me a cup of tea.

"He never deserved you, sweetie," Mom said, stroking my hair. She even transferred a significant sum to my account – "For your new start."

With their support, I found a small one-bedroom co-op in Brooklyn Heights quickly.

Friends started texting congratulations.

[Saw Michael's post! So excited for you guys! When's the big day?]

I opened Facebook. Michael had posted a photo of us from last Christmas, captioned: "She said yes! Michael Vance and Sarah Miller are thrilled to announce their engagement and upcoming wedding!"

It was the top post on his page.

I immediately posted on my own feed: "Currently single. No wedding plans in the near future. Please disregard any rumors. #blessed #independentwoman."

Michael's calls started again, this time from his work landline.

I blocked that number too.

Monday morning, I was at the real estate attorney's office for the closing. The seller, a kind elderly woman named Mrs. Peterson, was signing the papers.

Her phone rang. She answered, listened, then looked at me, her expression puzzled.

"Ms. Miller? It's... a gentleman for you."

It was Michael.

I took the phone. "Michael, will you ever stop?"

"Why are you telling people you're single?" he demanded. "You're almost thirty, Sarah. Can't you act like an adult? A stupid note is how you break an engagement? Our friends are expecting a wedding!"

"There won't be a wedding," I said, my voice flat. "We broke up."

He was at an airport; I could hear the boarding calls. He was taking Jessica to Switzerland for her "expert cardiology consultation."

His tone softened slightly. "Look, I know you're still mad about your birthday. I admit, that was my fault. When I get back from Switzerland with Jessica, I'll make it up to you. Big time."

"You're mistaken," I said. "I'm not angry. And I don't need anything from you. All you need to know is that you and I are over."

I hung up. I asked Mrs. Peterson to block his number on her phone too.

I signed the final papers. The keys to my own place felt solid in my hand.