It was a message.
And all those lingering glances at Chloe during company parties.
A warning.
The way he found a reason to stick around whenever she showed up to meet me after work.
A claim.
It’ssoobvious now.
This is what happens when you see the angles no one else does. When you read between the lines, anticipate the move before it happens, only to realize you missed the one right in front of you.
This is what I get for being the closer. For knowing how to seal the deal, secure the outcome. Except when it comes to the people whoactuallymatter.
A year. One fucking year,gone.
“Well, sweetheart.” My voice is edged with something too bitter to be nostalgia. “Thanks for the lesson. Really top-tier betrayal—textbook, even.”
My grip tightens.
“Hope he was worth it.”
I launch the frame into the night, watching it disappear into the darkness like the future I once thought we had. It smashes against a building. Someone yells. A car alarm bleats once. Then silence.
One more step toward freedom.
A traitorous tear threatens to stray. Butfuck that.I’m not crying over her. The only tears Chloe’s shedding haveJackson’sname attached.
So fuck her. Fuckthem.
Back inside, I shut the door behind me like I’m sealing off whatever was left of her in my life. But the emptiness that follows isn’t as satisfying as I hoped.
I need a distraction before Chloe’s picture isn’t the only thing I hurl off that balcony tonight.
My phone catches my eye. The memory ofUnknownsneaks in. I grab my phone, unlock it then scroll through the messages. Quick-witted. Not unkind.
She didn’t judge me. She made me laugh when I felt like my insides were being fed through a shredder.
Should I text again? Probably not. But that sliver of connection wasenough to keep my head above water last night. And I’ll never forget that.
I should thank her. Even though I already did.
My fingers linger over the keyboard.
First attempt:So, do you offer emotional crisis management as a service, or was that a one-time, free trial situation?
Delete. Too needy.
Second attempt:Hey, thanks for the chat last night. Also, if you ever need someone to ruin your faith in humanity, I’ve got a Jackson to loan you.
Delete. Too bitter.
Third attempt:Quick question—what’s the appropriate waiting period before a guy can make self-deprecating jokes about his ex without looking like a walking red flag?
Delete. Tooaccurate.
Fourth attempt:Are you a licensed therapist or just really good at talking people off metaphorical ledges? Because either way, I’m impressed.
