Chapter 2

For a moment, he said nothing.

"You're still mad? You were the one who ran in. Nobody forced you."

"You think that makes it funny? Ethan, I'm in the ER—"

"You ruined the night pretending to be scared, and now you're breaking up with me over a joke?"

I looked at the monitor beside my bed. I'd been brought in by ambulance, and he was still telling me I was faking.

He'd known I scared easily from the beginning. Once, if the power went out, he'd drop what he was doing and come over. After we moved in together, he left a lamp on every night and warmed me a glass of milk before bed.

For four years, those small routines had made me feel safe. But after I'd introduced him to Rowan, his patience had gradually worn thin.

"Are you really that scared? Rowan says you never used to be like this. I have a life, Chloe. I can't be glued to you twenty-four seven."

Every time, I'd try to explain. I'd never asked him to be with me every minute. I just wanted him to believe me when I said I was frightened.

Tonight, I didn't have another explanation left.

His voice softened. "Come on. You must be hungry. I had them save you a steak. Just come over."

"I said we're breaking up. Move your things out of my apartment."

He exhaled sharply. "Fine. I'll stay somewhere else for a few days. You can cool off. I don't even know what you're so upset about."

He hung up before I could answer.

Our group photo filled the screen again. The five of us, smiling, as though we were the closest people in the world.

After every fight, Xavier would turn up at my door with Rowan and Mason behind him. If I'd done something wrong, all four would tell me so. If Ethan had hurt me, they'd tell me to let it go.

This time, he was counting on the same thing. Give me a day or two, send the others around, and I'd stop talking about leaving.

I backed up our messages and every payment request before deleting their numbers, unfollowing them, and changing the photo on my lock screen.

I wanted them out of my life. I was keeping the proof so they couldn't tell me I'd imagined it all.

A friend sent me a screenshot a few minutes later.

"Isn't Ethan your boyfriend? What the hell is Rowan posting? Does she seriously think this is okay?"

Rowan's cheek was pressed against his in the photo. The caption read:

"Some girls think dating them means the world owes them something. Don't worry, babe. Mi casa es tu casa."

Xavier and Mason had commented underneath, praising her for being so easygoing. My brother was helping her mock me while she posed with my boyfriend.

My friend sent more screenshots: posts Rowan had hidden from me. Gifts from all three men. Nights out with the four of them, on evenings I'd been told everyone was busy.

I kept scrolling. Then I saw the ring, and my thumb stopped moving.

A few weeks earlier, Ethan had asked which of two diamond rings I liked better. We'd been together four years. I'd thought he was finally going to propose.

I'd looked at those pictures more times than I could count, imagining the one I'd chosen on my own hand. Every time he made plans for us afterward, I'd wondered whether that would be the night.

Now I was looking at it on Rowan's finger.

I enlarged the photo. There was no mistake. She was holding her hand up for the camera, showing off the ring I'd told him I loved.

I sat with the phone in my lap for a long time. My chest tightened until I had to put it aside. I didn't cry again.

When the doctor came back, I asked her to send the referral to Cleveland, along with my current results and the records from the past year. While I was under observation, the clinic called to arrange an appointment. I booked a flight for three p.m. on November 4.

One-way.

I spent two nights in the hospital. None of them called. They didn't know where I was, and apparently none of them needed to find out.

On November 2, I was discharged with instructions to take my medication, avoid stress, and seek help immediately if my symptoms returned.

Back at the apartment, I bagged Ethan's clothes, Xavier's jackets, Mason's controller, and Rowan's scarf. Their things were everywhere.

I'd always liked that they felt at home with me. Now I wanted every reminder by the door.

I packed my clothes and documents, contacted a realtor about selling, and asked the building to revoke the others' access. They needed me to verify the request in person, so I made an appointment for the following morning and booked a locksmith to change the lock afterward. Ethan still had his key.

By then, I was exhausted. I went to bed.

The next morning, laughter woke me.

I opened my bedroom door and found the apartment a mess, with four familiar faces turning toward me. They were smiling as though nothing had happened.