Isabella didn’t hear it. Jenny muted my microphone, and she’s steering the conversation toward Isabella’s teenage sons.
The forced pause makes me feel how my heart is racing, sweat beading on my upper lip. I take a deep breath and try to relax my knotted muscles. I made our podcast guest cry. The realization settles heavily in my stomach.
Jenny takes over the rest of the interview, leaving me on mute. “Isabella, I want to thank you for being so honest with us. This is hard stuff, real stuff.”
Isabella repairs her cracked facade by wiping tears and shrugging her shoulders. I’m suddenly grateful for the mute button.
“Do you mind if I ask one more question?” Jenny asks. “Of course, you don’t have to answer, and the whole thing will be shared with you for review before we go live.”
Isabella nods.
“Would you change anything about your pursuit of financial independence?”
Isabella’s eyes light up again, all traces of her earlier distress gone.
“Absolutely not. It’s worth it,” she says with conviction.
“Really?” Jenny asks.
“You said it yourself.” Isabella’s wide grin spreads across her face. “I’ve won.I can do whatever I want!”
Jenny thanks her profusely, and even though my microphone is live again, I don’t know what to say. I just nod while Jenny handles the last details of the episode.
We sit in stunned silence after the call ends.
Isabella said to build the life you want, and then save for it. She said she’s won.
I close my laptop, sickened by the glow of my own spreadsheet.
The conversation has clearly hit Jenny too. Her shoulders slump, and one side of her mouth curls as her brows pinch together. It’s a look I know well. Worry. And it’s aimed at me.
“So,” Jenny says. “What are you going to do?”
This is my fucking future. This is what I’ve been building: a perfect number and an empty life.
Kael’s paint-streaked pants, our fight in the gallery, his smile at the Inskip Inn, and that night at Sharon and Walt’s all flicker past like a highlight reel I’m in the middle of erasing.
I’ve spent years trying to win a game that doesn’t even make me happy. And I’m about to lose the one thing that did.
I spring from the chair before the thought finishes forming. “I have to stop Kael from leaving.”
Jenny shoves my bag into my hands. “Yes,” she says. “Go get him.”
Forget the spreadsheet. Forget the plan. This time the numbers will follow my lead. If Kael’s really leaving, I’m not letting him walk away without a fight.
CHAPTER 35
KAEL
I leftmy apartment the day after Ash called to end it for good. Jamal said the studio would only take a few minutes to pack, but I’ve turned it into a whole sad little project, dragging it out because leaving for real feels worse than sleeping on the floor between half-filled boxes.
Everything I own is spread across the room in disorganized stages of surrender. The studio still smells like turpentine and dreams, but the cold’s already seeping in.
Getting control of my life is exactly as hard as I thought it would be. I made the “responsible” choice. Shouldn’t there be a reward for that? If life worked that way, more people would make it.
My life is a hot mess, but it’s my hot mess. I tell myselfno regrets, but the echo rings a little hollow. I put it all on the table, and Ash rejected me.
Why stay? What did I think would happen? He’d sprint after me like a movie ending?
