It’s over.
Looking out at the awakening city, clutching my warm mug, I know what needs to happen next.
James’s loan and his blasted breakup clause.
Anxiety knots my stomach.For months, that clause has kept me walking on eggshells, forcing me to endure his moods, his absences, his...
This.
It felt like a chain, tethering me to a relationship that was already dying.
But staring out at the horizon, feeling the fresh air clear my head, remembering Matthew’s quiet confidence last night…
Something shifts.
The fear of financial fallout is still there, but it’s overshadowed now by a stronger, harder resolve.He used that money, that clause, to control me.
Not anymore.
As soon as he surfaces, we need to talk.
Properly talk.
About us ending.
About the money.
I’m done letting him hold it over my head.We need a real, fair repayment plan, something manageable, something separate from us.
It’s time to untangle it all, finally and completely.
It’s time to take back my freedom.
SIXTEEN
THE COFFEE GROWS cold in my mug.The sun shines brightly now, and the streets are alive with cars and pedestrians.My resolve hasn’t wavered.If anything, the solitude has solidified it.A pained moan sounds from inside, followed by the heavy sound of movement.
Steeling myself, I step back inside.James looks even worse in the full morning light, wearing only his wrinkled black pants from last night.His eyes are puffy slits against the daylight.His hair sticks up at odd angles.He moves stiffly towards the kitchen, blinking heavily, one hand pressed to his temple.
“Oh thank fuck,” he groans when he spots the carafe.“Coffee.”
I lean against the island as James grabs a mug and fills it, his hand shaking enough to threaten a spill.He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t acknowledge my presence beyond assuming I’m the provider of his hangover cure.My certainty remains untouched by this pathetic sight.
“My head feels like it’s going to split open, Mimi.”He leans forward on the marble.
“We need to talk.”My tone is steady.
All the turbulent emotions from earlier have settled into this one statement.
James lifts his head, squinting as if the effort is immense.“Are you fucking blind?”He winces, rubbing his temples.
“Obviously not now,” I reply, holding his gaze despite his discomfort.
“Your timing is always shit,” he groans again, closing his eyes.“Must be a skill.”
“Well, when is it the right time, James?Because I barely ever see you anymore—”
“Shhh…I beg of you.”He lifts the mug to his lips with a shaky hand.“Not now,” he murmurs after a long swig.
