Chapter 4

"You must be Chloe."

Vivian stood in the entryway. She was wearing my plush slippers—the pink ones with the slightly worn-out left sole.

She held a mug of water. It was also mine. A white mug with a blue rim that I bought in a set of four from Ikea.

"Justin went out to get groceries. He said you were coming to pick up some files today? Come on in."

She smiled warmly. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she wore an oversized t-shirt.

She didn't look like a guest. She looked like she lived here.

"When did you get here?" I asked.

"Two days ago. Justin said there was a spare bedroom, so he let me stay here while I look for a job."

A spare bedroom.

That was my home office.

I didn't step into the living room. I walked straight toward the bedroom.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the changes. There was a vase of dried flowers on the coffee table. A small frame sat on the TV stand—their high school graduation photo, Justin and Vivian standing side-by-side in the crowd.

A light grey throw blanket was draped over the sofa. Not mine.

The fridge magnets were gone. All twelve of them, which I had collected from every city I visited, had been cleared out. In their place were a few cute cartoon magnets.

"Chloe? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just grabbing my things and leaving."

"Won't you wait for Justin to come back? He bought your favorite—"

"No."

She leaned against the doorframe, sipping water and chatting with me while I packed, her tone as casual as a neighbor gossiping over the fence.

"Chloe, don't blame Justin."

"He's just too indecisive. He's so afraid of hurting anyone that he ends up hurting everyone."

"To be honest, during the years you two were together... I was really miserable over in Denver, too."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Sometimes when he forgot to reply to my texts, I’d wonder if he was with you. I'm sure you know exactly how that feels."

I stopped packing and looked at her.

She was standing in my apartment, wearing my slippers, drinking from my mug, and telling me that *she* was the victim.

"I don't blame him, and I don't blame you. I'm just done."

"But he said he couldn't reach you. He was so worried he drank himself to sleep last night..."

Her eyes welled with tears.

"He kept calling out your name when he was drunk."

The front door unlocked.

Justin walked in, holding two bags of groceries. When he saw me, he froze.

"You're here. Why didn't you tell me beforehand—"

"Tell you beforehand? So you could hide her first?"

"Chloe, can you talk like a normal person for once?"

"I am talking normally. You let her wear my slippers, drink from my mug, sleep in my home office, and you threw away all my fridge magnets. I came to get my things. Is that unreasonable?"

Vivian sniffled softly.

"I'm sorry, Chloe. I found the slippers in the closet. I didn't know they were yours..."

"It's not your fault. It's the fault of the guy who gave you the keys."

Justin’s jaw clenched.

"She just moved to the city and had nowhere to stay! I'm letting her crash here temporarily. Why do you have to blow everything out of proportion?"

"You have thirty hotel apps on your phone, Justin."

"Chloe."

He took a step closer, lowering his voice.

"When you said you wanted a breakup, I didn't stop you. When you said goodbye, I respected it. Now you're back here throwing a fit. What exactly do you want?"

I grabbed my bag and walked right past him.

At the door, Vivian called out behind me.

"Chloe, you forgot something."

She was holding out the white mug with the blue rim.

"This is yours, right? I washed it."

A set of four. When we moved in, I brought two: one for me, one for him.

"Keep it. I don't want it."

I got into Maya’s car. Before I could even buckle my seatbelt, she started asking questions.

"How did it go?"

"She's wearing my slippers, using my mug, and sleeping in my room. The fridge magnets are gone."

"And him?"

"He said I'm blowing things out of proportion."

I started the engine and drove out of the lot.

At a red light, I said, "She told me he drank himself to sleep calling my name."

"You believe that?"

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter whose name he calls anymore."

The light turned green. I kept driving.

After a long silence, Maya finally spoke.

"Chloe. You paid the down payment on that apartment, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Thirty-eight thousand."

"And the mortgage?"

"Paid from our joint account. But I put in seventy percent of the funds."

"Whose name is on the deed?"

The cool wind rushed in through the window.

I didn't answer.

Because we both knew the answer.

"Chloe, you need to get back what is yours."