“Indira! Oh my God, what are you doing in Knoxville?” She slid into the chair across from me without being invited, her eyes bright with the kind of excitement people got when they stumbled onto good gossip. “I’m here visiting my cousin at UT. Small world, right?”
“I live here now,” I said simply.
“You live here? But what about Dutch? I heard you guys had some drama, but I figured you’d work it out. You know how bikers are. They all mess around, but they always come back to their old ladies.”
His name landed like a fist to the sternum. My fingers tightened around my cup.
“I’m not his old lady.” The words came out steady and clear. “I never was.”
Amber’s eyebrows shot up. “But you guys were together for like a year. Everyone thought he was going to make you his old lady.”
“Everyone was wrong.” I took a sip of my coffee, using the moment to gather my thoughts. “Including me.”
“So you just... left? Over some club girl?” Amber leaned forward, clearly hungry for details. “Come on, Indira. It’s not like it meant anything. Crystal’s been warming beds at that clubhouse for years. She’s basically furniture.”
My stomach clenched—the same twist I’d felt that night, cheap perfume mixing with the leather-and-smoke smell that used to mean safety. The casual way Amber said it, like my pain was irrelevant, like Dutch’s betrayal was just part of some game I should have known the rules to. It lit a fire in my chest.
“You’re right,” I said, my voice perfectly calm. “It didn’t mean anything. That was exactly the problem.”
Amber looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“Furniture.” I let the word hang between us. “That’s a woman you’re talking about. A human being.”
Amber flushed. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” I stood up, gathering my coffee and muffin—I wasn’t leaving them behind. “You’re just so used to it you don’t hear yourself anymore.”
The entire coffee shop had gone quiet. I could feel eyes on us, but I didn’t look away from Amber’s face.
Amber’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “But... but what if he changes? What if he realizes what he lost?”
I paused at her question, because it was one I’d asked myself a hundred times in quiet moments. For a split second I felt thephantom weight of his arm around my shoulders, the way he’d pull me against his side like I belonged there. What if Dutch did realize what he’d lost? What if he came after me with promises to do better?
“Then he’ll have learned an expensive lesson,” I said finally. “But he’s not my problem anymore.” I walked out of the coffee shop with my head high, leaving Amber and her friends staring after me. My hands were still shaking slightly, but not from fear or humiliation this time. From adrenaline. From the rush of standing up for myself.
By the time I got back to my hotel room, I’d made a decision. I pulled out my phone and called the real estate agent I’d been emailing about Nashville apartments.
“Hi, I’d like to schedule viewings for this weekend.”
“Wonderful! Which properties are you interested in seeing?”
“All of them.”
“All of them?” The agent sounded surprised. “Let me pull up your list... that’s six apartments. Have you refined your search at all? Location preferences, price range, number of bedrooms?”
“Everything on that list is in my price range, and I like all the locations,” I said. “I need to see them all in person. I’ll know which one is the one when I’m standing in it.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “That’s... a very sensible approach. Let me check my schedule and work out a route. Can I call you back in an hour with a viewing schedule?”
“Perfect.”
After I hung up, I pulled out my laptop and started looking up things to do in Nashville this weekend. Coffee shops to try between viewings. Maybe a museum or two. The historic district. Places I could explore while I was there, get a feel for the city beyond just the apartments.
I closed the laptop and looked around my hotel room. The suitcase in the corner, still not fully unpacked. The toiletries lined up on the bathroom counter.
For the first time in weeks, I wanted to unpack them. Put them somewhere permanent.
The realtor called back an hour later with a viewing schedule. I wrote it down, thanked her, and hung up.
