Chapter 3

The sound of the key in the lock made me look up from the photo on my phone.

Sarah walked in, looking tired and stressed. She dropped her purse on the counter and forced a smile when she saw me.

"There you are," she said, her voice strained. "I was so worried. I went to my office to clear my head, but I couldn't focus."

She was still lying.

I didn't say anything. I just turned my phone around and showed her the screen.

Her face went pale. The color drained away, leaving her looking fragile and exposed. Her smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of panic.

"Ethan," she stammered, taking a step toward me. "That's not... it's not what it looks like."

"Then what is it, Sarah?" My voice was calm, devoid of emotion. It seemed to scare her more than if I had shouted.

"He was upset," she started, her words tumbling out in a rush. "He was saying crazy things, that he was going to hurt himself. I was just trying to calm him down. He kissed me, I didn't kiss him back. I pushed him away right after that."

The lies were so easy for her. So practiced.

I didn't argue. I just turned and walked into our bedroom. I pulled a suitcase from the top of the closet and started placing clothes inside. Neat, folded stacks. Shirts, pants, socks. The mechanical action was a strange comfort.

"What are you doing?" she asked, following me into the room, her voice rising with panic. "Ethan, please. Don't do this. It was a mistake. A stupid, meaningless mistake."

I paused, holding a stack of t-shirts. I remembered a conversation we had three years ago, sitting in this very room. We were talking about a friend of hers whose husband had cheated.

"I could never understand that," she had said, her eyes full of conviction. "Love has to be absolute. Total. The moment you let someone else in, even a little bit, it's not love anymore. It's just... a negotiation. I would never do that to you, Ethan. You are my one and only."

The memory was so clear, it felt like a bitter joke. Her words echoed in the space between us, a ghost of a promise she had already broken.

I placed the t-shirts in the suitcase and zipped it shut.

She grabbed my arm. "Please, talk to me. Six years, Ethan. Are you going to throw away six years over one stupid kiss?"

"It wasn't one kiss, Sarah," I said, finally looking at her. "It was the party. It was the voice message. It was the lie just now. It's a pattern. And I'm done being a part of it."

I pulled my arm free and walked out of the apartment, suitcase in hand. I didn't look back.

I went to a hotel, a sterile, anonymous place where there were no memories. An hour later, my phone rang. It was Sarah. I ignored it. It rang again. I silenced it.

Then a text came through.

'I' m at The Daily Grind. Our place. Please, Ethan. Let me just see you. I need to see you.'

The Daily Grind was a small coffee shop where we had our first date. She was weaponizing our history. Against my better judgment, I decided to go. Not to reconcile, but to end it properly, face to face.

When I walked in, she was sitting in our usual booth by the window, twisting a napkin in her hands. Her eyes were red and swollen.

"Thank you for coming," she whispered as I sat down.

Before she could say another word, the bell on the door chimed.

Liam walked in. He saw us and his face hardened. He marched over to our table.

"So this is what you do?" he said, directing his words at me. "You make her cry? You run away like a coward and leave her to pick up the pieces?"

Sarah looked horrified. "Liam, no! What are you doing here?"

"I followed you," he said, his eyes still locked on me. "I knew he would try to hurt you. He doesn't deserve you."

The situation was so absurd, so twisted, I almost laughed. He was the arsonist pretending to be a firefighter.

"Sarah," I said, keeping my voice level. "This is what I'm talking about. Him. He is always here, in the middle of everything."

"Please, Ethan, just ignore him," she begged, turning to me. "This is about us." Then she looked at Liam. "Liam, leave. Now."

Her voice lacked any real authority. It was a request, not a command.

And in that moment, she did the one thing I never thought she would. She subtly shifted the blame.

"Ethan, you're making this so much harder than it needs to be," she said, her voice laced with frustration. "If you would just listen to me, we could fix this."

I was the one making it hard. I was the problem. Not her lack of boundaries, not her assistant's obsessive behavior. Me.

A heavy weight settled in my stomach. The weight of resignation.

Liam saw his opening. He put a hand on Sarah's shoulder, his touch soft and possessive.

"Sarah, you're getting upset," he said in a soothing voice. "You don't need this stress. Let's go. I'll take you home."

It was the same tactic he used at the party. Create a crisis, then offer himself as the solution.

And just like at the party, she let him.

She looked at me, her eyes pleading for an answer I could no longer give. Then she gave a small, defeated nod to Liam. She stood up and let him lead her out of the coffee shop.

As they left, my phone buzzed. It was a text.

From Liam.

'She' s with me now. Where she belongs. Looks like you' re the one who' s alone tonight.'

I looked at the message, then out the window at them walking down the street, his arm securely around her.

I had arranged a final meeting. A farewell dinner with our mutual friends, a way to close the chapter cleanly. Now, looking at that text, it felt less like a closure and more like a final, public execution of our relationship.