Chapter 4 No.4

The purge began with his number.

She held her phone, her thumb hovering over the contact. 'Brady.' It had been at the top of her favorites for a decade. With a final, decisive tap, it was gone. A small, digital amputation.

She moved methodically through her social media, untagging photos, unfollowing his world, dismantling a shared history one click at a time.

A message notification popped up on her screen. It was from Hettie.

A photo.

It was of her hand, intertwined with Brady's. On her finger was a new, obscenely large diamond ring. The caption read: "He said it's time to make it official. So excited for our future! ❤️"

Karissa stared at the image. There was no pain. No jealousy. Just a vast, empty numbness. She didn't reply. She simply blocked Hettie's number and deleted the conversation.

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was a call. Callum.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tight with worry. "I just heard from Darcy. She said you gave him everything."

"I'm fine, Cal," she said, forcing a calm she didn't feel. "It's for the best."

"The best? Karissa, he's a monster. And that woman... Remember when you were kids? After my parents died and he swore he'd always protect you? He used to call you his 'little guardian angel.' Now look at him."

The memory felt like it belonged to another person. A naive little girl who believed in promises.

"That was a long time ago," Karissa said, her voice flat. "We were kids."

"It meant something to you," Callum said softly. "Don't lie to me."

She couldn't argue with that. It had meant everything.

That night, sleep offered no escape. Just memories. The cruelty wasn't in the constant neglect, but in the sporadic moments of hope. The crumbs of affection he'd dropped, just enough to keep her starving heart alive.

He hadn't just ignored her; he had given her just enough reason to stay, only to destroy the hope later. That was the real torture.

A knock on the door made her jump. It was Brady.

"I'm heading out," he said through the door. "The movers are coming at nine to clear out the rest of this junk. Just leave the key on the counter."

Junk. That's what her life's possessions were to him.

"Okay," she called back.

She heard his footsteps recede down the hall, the front door closing with a definitive click.

That was it. Her final dismissal. He wouldn't even be here to see her go. He was erasing her from his life as easily as she had deleted his number.

It was the final confirmation she needed. There was nothing left to hold on to.