“I know.”
“Goodnight, Leo.”
“Goodnight, Tess.”
The call ends.
I stay exactly where I am, phone still pressed to my ear like I might somehow hear her breathing through the dead line.
I don’t feel relieved.
I don’t feel hopeful.
I feel committed.
Not in the romantic sense. Not in the please let me back in way. Committed to consequences.
I move fast after that, not with panic, but with something colder and clearer.
I draft the termination notice myself. I don’t let legal soften the language. I don’t let PR touch it. I don’t let anyone reframe it into something palatable.
I write exactly what it is. A withdrawal. A refusal. An admission of fault.
I sign my name.
I send it.
Then I turn my phone back over.
Rex has called seventeen times. I answer the eighteenth.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands the second the line connects. “Do you have any idea what you just did?”
“Yes,” I say calmly. “I ended the deal.”
“You can’t just…”
“I already did.”
“You’re burning leverage,” he snaps. “You’re humiliating me.”
“You boxed her in,” I say. “You leaked it. You tried to force her hand.”
A pause.
“So, she turned you down,” Rex sneers. “Is that what this is? You’re emotional. You’ll regret this.”
“I regret trusting you,” I say.
He laughs. “You think walking away makes you noble? You think she’ll thank you?”
“No,” I say. “I think it’s the first time I’ve done the right thing without expecting a reward.”
I hang up.
I don’t sleep. I sit on the floor as the city turns from night to grey, replaying every moment I could have chosen differently.
Every time she told me who she was. Every time I decided, I knew better.
