Chapter 4

His expression finally cracked.

"What did you just say?"

"We're breaking up."

"Chloe, have you lost your mind? Over the climbing thing yesterday? I already apologized!"

"When did you ever apologize?"

"Even if you apologized right now, it wouldn't change anything."

"You—"

"You brought another woman into our home and put her in our bed."

"What else do you expect me to endure?"

Brad’s face flushed crimson.

He swung his legs out of bed, standing barefoot on the hardwood floor.

"Chloe, stop acting so damn high and mighty!"

"You think anyone else would want you if you leave me? Did you forget how pathetic you looked begging me to date you?"

Those words were meant to be daggers, but they didn't hurt anymore.

My heart had already been torn to shreds long ago.

"You're right. I chased you. I was pathetic, desperate, and cheap."

"So I'm done chasing. You don't have any dignity left, but I still do."

I turned away from the bedroom and walked to the closet for my suitcase.

It was tucked away on the balcony, covered in a thin film of dust.

I rolled it into the bedroom and began tossing my things inside.

Brad stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, watching me.

"Are you really leaving?"

"Yes."

"Chloe, once you walk out that door, there’s no coming back. Don't come crying to me."

"I won't."

I kept packing without glancing at him—clothes, skincare, chargers.

Natalie slipped out of bed, wearing Brad’s oversized gray T-shirt.

I recognized that shirt; I bought it for his birthday last year.

She walked up beside Brad and murmured softly, "Brad, maybe I should leave. Don't fight because of me..."

"Stay right there," Brad said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"She's the one acting crazy. It has nothing to do with you."

My hands paused for half a second.

Then I kept shoving clothes into the bag.

There wasn't much worth taking. Most of the things I owned here were just props I used to play the part of his perfect, agreeable girlfriend. I didn't want them anymore.

Finally, I picked up a framed picture from the dresser.

It was taken when we first started dating, outside our college library. His arm was draped over my shoulders, smiling brightly under the sun.

Back then, I truly believed I was the luckiest girl in the world.

I pulled the photo from the frame and tore it down the middle, then shredded it to pieces.

The scraps fluttered down into the suitcase, mixing with the old clothes.

Brad’s face drained of color.

"You...!"

"I'm out," I said, zipping the suitcase shut and wheeling it toward the front door.

"The keys are on the console table."

"I paid the rent through the end of the month. The rest is on you."

"Chloe!" he yelled behind me.

I didn't look back.

The door clicked shut, muffling his voice completely.

The hallway was quiet, save for the hum of the luggage wheels rolling over tile.

Downstairs, I leaned against the building wall and took a long, steady breath.

Stepping out onto the street, the morning sun hit my eyes, sharp and bright.

My phone rang. It was my best friend, Maya.

"Chloe, what are you doing? Let's grab brunch, our usual spot."

"Okay."

"Wait... what's wrong? You sound off."

"We broke up."

The line went silent for two beats before Maya’s voice turned gentle and protective.

"Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

"Outside my building."

"Stay right there. Ten minutes."

I hung up and sat on the concrete edge of a planter by the sidewalk, letting the sun warm my skin.

My phone chimed with a notification from Brad’s alternate Instagram account.

Clearly, he posted this specifically for me to see.

A photo of Natalie in our kitchen, wearing an apron, smiling sweetly at the camera.

Caption: [Someone finally knows how to cook. Life is sweet.]

I stared at the picture for five seconds.

Unfollow. Block. Delete.

Clean and decisive.

When Maya pulled up to the curb, I was still sitting by the planter.

She hopped out of the car, took one look at me without asking a single question, and wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace.

The hug was warm, making my throat tighten.

Yet not a single tear fell.

"Come on," she said, grabbing my arm. "Let's go eat."

Maya took me to a quiet diner nearby.

She ordered a massive spread, but my stomach was in knots. I just pushed my fork around the plate.

"Spill. What happened?"

I told her everything that transpired from yesterday to this morning, down to the very last detail.

When I finished, Maya slammed her fork onto the table.