Chapter 3

*Hi, Chloe.*

This Snapchat friend request appeared on the third day.

The profile picture was a backlit silhouette, but I recognized the sapphire necklace. It gleamed mockingly in the sunlight.

The add request had no other message.

Maya told me to ignore it.

I tapped accept.

*Hey girl, I'm Vivian,* a smiling emoji followed. *Justin gave me your Snapchat. He said you guys had a little misunderstanding and wanted me to clear things up.*

A little misunderstanding.

Our breakup was reduced to a "little misunderstanding" in his mouth.

"No need to explain. We broke up. It has nothing to do with you."

*I know,* she replied instantly. *Justin has been staying at my place the last few days. He's really devastated.*

"Staying at my place." She typed those words so casually, as if he had just dropped by to pick up a package.

*He’s just not very good at expressing himself. I'm sure you know him better than I do.*

I didn't reply.

A minute later, another paragraph came through:

*Please don't get the wrong idea, Chloe. Justin and I are really just old friends. He saved those photos on his own, I had absolutely no idea.*

*I guess he's just a bit sentimental? Guys are like that, you know.*

Two hundred photos of another woman is "sentimental."

*Chloe, can I ask you something?*

"What?"

*What does Justin usually like to eat? I’ve been cooking for him the past two days, but he barely touched his food. I'm worried he'll starve.*

Maya walked over, saw my expression, and leaned in to look at the screen.

Five seconds of silence.

"Is this bitch insane?!"

"She's asking me what he likes to eat."

"I see what she's asking! I'm saying she's psycho! Who asks the ex-girlfriend what her ex-man likes to eat?!"

"She doesn't think of me as his ex-girlfriend."

I took my phone back.

"Justin told her we were just roommates who split the rent. He told her we were never officially dating."

Maya opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again.

"Four years. And he claims you weren't officially dating?"

"Yeah. He never posted me on Instagram, never introduced me to his friends."

"What about anniversaries? Your birthdays?"

"We celebrated them privately. He said our relationship was nobody else's business."

Maya sat down beside me, speechless for a long time.

My phone lit up again. Vivian sent a photo.

It was Justin's back, standing in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. He was wearing a light blue apron I had never seen before. Warm sunlight streamed through the window, making the scene look like a cozy magazine spread.

The caption read: *Look, Chloe! Justin is learning how to cook! He's so clumsy at chopping potatoes, haha.*

I stared at the photo.

For four years, he never stepped foot in the kitchen.

I cooked every single meal. He would sit down, eat, and the most he’d say was, "It's fine."

I always thought he just didn't know how to cook, or hated it.

Turns out, he wasn't incapable.

He just didn't want to do it for me.

"How are you going to reply?" Maya stared at me.

I thought about it and typed: *He hates cilantro. He has a weak stomach, so don't make things too spicy.*

Maya snatched the phone out of my hand.

"Are you out of your mind, Chloe? She’s rubbing it in your face, and you’re giving her a manual on how to pamper your ex?!"

"Well, I don't need the manual anymore."

I took the phone back and exited the chat.

Vivian sent one last voice message. It was eighteen seconds long.

I didn't play it.

Maya grabbed the phone and played it anyway.

After listening, her face darkened.

"What did she say?"

"She said, 'You're so sweet, Chloe. No wonder Justin said you're the kindest person he's ever met.'"

Maya paused.

"And?"

"And then she said—'But he also told me that kind girls are usually not the ones men actually fall in love with.'"

That night, after turning off the lights, I stared at the ceiling. I realized the word "kind" could sound so incredibly ugly.

My phone vibrated. An unknown number with a Denver area code.

*You blocked me? How childish.*

I ignored it.

The next morning, three more texts appeared.

*Chloe, have you thrown your tantrum yet?*

*I'll be back in a couple of days once things are sorted here.*

*Did you throw out the expired yogurt in the fridge yet?*

That last text was sent at 4:00 AM.

Maya brought in breakfast, saw me staring at my phone, and asked if it was him.

"Yeah. He's still worried about his expired yogurt."

"Is something wrong with his brain?"

"He doesn't care about the yogurt. He just wants to make sure the girl who cleans up after him is still waiting."

Maya set the coffee on the nightstand. With the most serious face I had ever seen her make, she asked:

"Are you still waiting?"

"No."