On the day of the hurricane, everyone at the office was allowed to go home early. I stayed behind in the empty building, waiting for my boyfriend, Justin, to pick me up because my car was in the shop. But as the wind howled louder and louder outside, Justin was still nowhere to be seen. I called him, but it went straight to voicemail. Our last text message was from an hour ago. He had sent a short, "On my way." I couldn't help but start worrying about him. As darkness fell, the rain outside turned into a torrential downpour. The lightbulb above my head flickered violently before dying out with a sharp pop. In the pitch black, I dialed Justin's number again. This time, the call went through, but a familiar female voice answered: "Chloe?" I froze, caught off guard. "Where's Justin?" "Justin is driving right now, so it's not really convenient for him to pick up." "Where are you guys?" "On the way to my apartment. Justin said it's too dangerous for me to head home alone in this storm." "Oh, by the way, he said he texted you like half an hour ago telling you to just Uber home. You're already back, right?" Outside the window, the wind shrieked. My heart gradually turned into a block of ice. Over the past three years, Justin had showered all his care and attention on this co-worker of his, Gemma. And tonight, the very last ember of my love for him was completely snuffed out. "Yeah, I'm home." A home that would never welcome him back again.
The girl on the other end of the line let out a visible sigh of relief. "Good to hear. We're almost at my place too." "But the hurricane is about to make landfall. Justin wanted me to tell you that he'll probably have to crash at my place tonight." "Okay," I replied, my voice completely flat. From the background of the call, Justin's voice drifted over. Even with the distance, I could clearly hear the tenderness in his tone. "Are you cold? Should I turn up the heater?" Gemma giggled. "Are you serious, Justin? It's literally the middle of summer!" Right. It was summer. Yet, I felt so cold that my body wouldn't stop shaking. The call ended. I stared down at our Snapchat thread. There was no message telling me to take an Uber. Maybe he did try to send it, but it failed due to the bad reception. Either way, it only proved one thing: after sending that message, he hadn't bothered to check our chat even once. He didn't use to be like this. When we first started dating in college, he was practically glued to his phone whenever he wasn't sleeping or in class. He would text me about the most trivial things, even if a random dog barked at him on the street. He used to reply to my texts within seconds. He had said he couldn't bear to miss a single message from me, and he wanted to be there the very second I ever needed him. Now, the person he worried about was someone else. A bitter feeling spread from the bottom of my heart. The howling wind outside felt like an invisible hand, squeezing my chest over and over again. By 6:00 PM, the hurricane made landfall. And I was trapped all alone in the office. I walked into the breakroom and shut the door tight. Then, I texted my parents, who lived in another state, to tell them I was safe. They asked: Are you with Justin? I stared at the screen for a moment before typing: Yeah. The screen went dark, and the room plunged back into shadows. It was so quiet that the only sound was the violent storm outside. Suddenly, my phone screen lit up. My heart skipped a beat. I grabbed it almost instinctively. Only to feel my chest hollow out in the next second. It was just a safety alert from the city government. The last line read: Please stay safe indoors with your family. We will get through this storm together. On Instagram, everyone was posting about how insane the hurricane was, alongside pictures of their cozy dinners. My stomach rumbled. I realized I hadn't eaten anything all day. I rummaged through the breakroom cabinets, found a bag of stale crackers, and chewed on them while scrolling through food pictures on Instagram. Suddenly, my thumb froze. I saw Gemma's latest post. What do I do when my co-worker is such an amazing cook? He's totally ruining my appetite for other food. The picture showed a beautifully prepared plate of Spanish Tapas—Justin's absolute specialty. In the corner of the frame, Justin's hand was visible, flashing a peace sign. He had once promised me that he would never cook for any woman in his life besides his mother and me. I guess his "lifetime" was exceptionally short. I liked the post and left a comment underneath: Then you should probably make him your boyfriend. A few minutes later, a text from Justin popped up on my screen. Chloe, was that comment really necessary? Necessary? Were their actions not far more questionable than my single comment? He had opened our chat, yet he hadn't even noticed the failed text message. He didn't even bother to ask where I was. My fingers gripped the phone so hard they turned white. I was just about to text him back, to tell him that I never made it home and was currently trapped in the office. But then, a deafening explosion shattered the silence outside!
Terrified, I peeked through the blinds of the breakroom window. One of the massive floor-to-ceiling glass panes in the main office area had completely shattered. The wild wind rushed into the office like a monster. Debris flew in through the giant hole, slamming heavily against the breakroom door. Trembling, I dragged the breakroom couch to block the door. My mind went entirely blank. By the time I regained my senses, I had already dialed Justin's number. It rang for nearly thirty seconds before he finally picked up. Before I could speak, Justin said impatiently: "Chloe, hold on a second, I'm kind of busy right now..." Swallowing my terror, I gasped, "Justin, I'm still at the office. The glass window shattered, and I'm so scared..." There was a long pause on the other end. "What shattered? The living room window? Just go back to the bedroom and lock the door. You'll be fine. I'll call someone to fix it tomorrow..." In the background, I could hear the faint sound of a video game. In the next second, Gemma cheered loudly: "Yes! I won again!" Justin chuckled, his voice dripping with affection. "Fine, fine, I lost. I'll buy you dinner next time." "What do you mean next time? You're buying tomorrow!" "Sure, whatever you want..." The words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat. At that exact moment, I finally realized it. My seven-year relationship with Justin had ultimately lost to a girl he had known for three years. Three years ago, when he first mentioned Gemma to me, he sounded so annoyed. Gemma had joined the company on the same day as him, and their manager paired them up. He complained that Gemma messed up all the data sheet, forcing him to work overtime for two nights to fix it. He also complained that she accidentally spilled coffee on his favorite jacket, ruining it. For a long time, he sighed whenever Gemma's name came up. Later, their department had a dinner party and invited me along. That was the first time I met her. She was a year younger than us, with a round face and a bit of baby fat. That night, the way Justin looked at her made me uncomfortable. Now I finally understood. That look was pure adoration. Later on, when I asked Justin to go to an art gallery with me on the weekend, he said Gemma's laptop was broken and he needed to go over and fix it. Seeing my silence, he quickly explained that all their team files were saved on that laptop. Another time, I mentioned a new thriller movie that was getting great reviews and asked if he wanted to see it. He hesitated before saying he had already watched it with Gemma. He claimed the company had given out free tickets to their department. But I later found out that the two of them had booked seats in the far corner, away from everyone else in their team. Then, he started driving her home every time it rained. He kept track of her period and bought her warm drinks. He even memorized her food allergies and would remind the waiters beforehand... I saw all of it. One day, I finally asked him: "Justin, do you have feelings for Gemma?" He was stunned for a second, then laughed. "How could I like that clumsy girl? I'm just being a good colleague and helping her out." Clumsy girl. What an affectionate nickname. And what he did for her had long crossed the line of "just being a good colleague." I didn't know when I eventually fell asleep that night. It felt like a long, exhausting nightmare. When I woke up, the sun was shining, the storm had passed, and the street below was buzzing with life again. Fortunately, my nightmare with Justin was also officially over. I went back to our shared apartment, took a shower, and changed my clothes. As I walked out of the bathroom, the front door clicked open. Justin walked in. Seeing me, he let out a sigh of relief and asked, "Are you okay after last night? What about the window..." He looked toward the living room window. It was completely intact. I said flatly, "It was just a nightmare." He nodded, not questioning further. Seeing me grabbing my keys to head out again, he suddenly called out to me. He looked hesitant, but spoke anyway: "Chloe, about that dinner with your parents next Wednesday... can we reschedule?" I looked at him, expressionless. "Why?" He said in a sympathetic tone, "Next Wednesday is the anniversary of Gemma's mother's passing. Her dad is out of the country and can't make it back. She's going to be all alone. It's just so sad." My fingernails dug into my palm. I forced myself to remain calm. "This is the fourth time you've canceled on my parents, Justin. They already bought their flight tickets." He cut me off, his voice tinged with annoyance. "What do you want me to do, just ignore her? We're colleagues, Chloe." But we are partners. I kept those words to myself. My temples throbbed from the lack of sleep. Massaging my forehead, I said indifferently, "Sure. Go ahead." His face lit up with joy. "I knew you'd understand! Don't worry, I promise I'll make it up to your parents next time." His phone rang with that familiar ringtone. He answered it quickly as he walked into the bedroom. "Chloe said yes, Gemma. I'll be there with you next Wednesday..." Meanwhile, I pulled out my phone and texted my mom: Mom, you know how you always said Justin wasn't the one for me, and that you wanted to introduce me to your friend's handsome son? Let's arrange that meeting for next Wednesday.
By the time I arrived at the office, maintenance workers were already replacing the shattered glass window. My co-workers were still shaken up. "Thank God we left early yesterday. That was terrifying." Seeing me, one of my colleagues waved. "Hey Chloe, your boyfriend picked you up yesterday, right?" I smiled faintly. "No, he was too busy driving his female co-worker home." The office went dead silent. Someone asked cautiously, "So... you had to Uber home in that storm?" "No, I spent the night in the breakroom." Everyone gasped. After a long silence, a colleague gently patted my shoulder. "Chloe, you are incredibly strong." I didn't think there was any reason to hide it. After all, I wasn't the one who did anything wrong. Right before clocking out, I received a text from Justin: I'm downstairs outside your office. My eyes flickered. He hadn't picked me up from work in almost a year. Even when he did promise to pick me up, he would always cancel at the last minute because of Gemma. I walked downstairs and indeed saw his car parked by the curb. I walked over. But just as my hand was about to touch the front passenger door handle, the window rolled down, revealing Gemma's cute face. "Hi, Chloe!" Justin spoke from the driver's seat, "Gemma said there's a new Mexican place nearby that's amazing. I got us a table. Want to join?" I stared at him, my voice barely a whisper: "Justin, I can't eat spicy food." He froze, a flash of embarrassment crossing his face. In the end, they drove off without me. He didn't come to pick me up. He just happened to be in the neighborhood and remembered I existed. He had even forgotten that I couldn't eat spicy food. Yet, he used to be the guy who would meticulously pick out every single piece of chili from my plate if the chef forgot his instructions. My eyes burned, but the evening breeze quickly dried the tears. I decided to break up with Justin this weekend. But out of nowhere, he mysteriously told me that he had planned a big event for Saturday and wanted me to arrive early. I was stunned. Saturday was our seventh anniversary. So, he did remember. I didn't care what he had planned, but I would use that day to officially end things. Justin told me to be there by 10:00 AM. But because of heavy traffic, I didn't arrive until 10:30 AM. As I walked toward the private dining room, memories flashed through my mind. For our past anniversaries, he used to rack his brain to plan the perfect surprises. He once used candles to spell out the date we first met. He secretly learned to play the guitar just to sing a song I casually mentioned I liked. He made a scrapbook filled with every single memory of us. But starting three years ago, every single anniversary was cut short. Three years ago, Gemma fell sick. He told me we had plenty of anniversaries ahead of us, but Gemma was all alone in the hospital. Two years ago, Gemma claimed someone was stalking her. He abandoned our half-eaten cake and rushed to her apartment. Last year, Gemma got too drunk at a bar. He said he was just driving her home, but he didn't return until the next morning. This year, I didn't expect anything. I just wanted to finish a meal together and say what needed to be said. I pushed the door open. Confetti exploded into the air, raining down on my face. The room was packed with people, all of them unfamiliar faces. But when they saw it was me, they all froze. "Wait, that's not Gemma." "I thought you said you heard Gemma's footsteps!" "Quick, clean this up! She's gonna be here any second!" I stood there, completely lost. Until Justin pulled me aside and shoved a confetti popper into my hands. "I told you to get here early! Quick, stand here and pop this when Gemma walks in." It took me a long moment to find my voice. The situation was so absurd I almost laughed out loud. I looked at him and asked, "What is going on here?"
His eyes remained glued to the door as he replied: "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Gemma's project got approved, and management is promoting her." "So, this is her promotion party." Justin was so distracted that he didn't notice the coldness in my voice. "You always complained that I never bring you along when I hang out with my colleagues. So, I invited you today." "Justin, do you even know what today is?" Justin blinked at me, looking entirely clueless. I smiled, nodded slowly, and spoke clearly: "Justin, let's break up." "Congratulations on the promotion, Gemma!" The loud explosion of confetti and the roaring cheers drowned out my voice. Justin had already rushed to Gemma's side, throwing an arm around her shoulder. A mocking smile touched my lips as I turned around and walked out. I pulled out my phone and saw a text my mom sent thirty minutes ago: Your dad and I just boarded the plane, Chloe. I'm so glad you've finally moved on. The guy my mom wanted to introduce me to happened to be in the city too. My mom said he had already agreed to have dinner with us on Wednesday. I texted back a simple "Okay" and headed straight to the airport to pick up my parents. The next day, I took my parents sightseeing. Just as we finished touring one of the local spots, my phone rang. It was Justin. He sounded frantic, demanding to know where I was. I didn't want to deal with him, but he sounded so desperate that I eventually sent him my location. Within minutes, he arrived in a rush—and Gemma was right behind him. Seeing my parents standing behind me, he froze for a second before pulling me aside, his voice lowered in anger: "What is this, Chloe? I told you I have to be with Gemma on Wednesday. I don't have time to have dinner with your parents." I looked at him coldly. "If you're busy, can't I find someone else to join us?" Assuming I was just being petty, he ignored my comment. He pulled out his phone, opened an Instagram post, and pointed at a comment. "Chloe, did you write this?" The post featured a few photos from yesterday's party. The first was Justin with his arm around Gemma. The second was Justin smearing cake on Gemma's face. The third was the two of them, their heads leaning close together. It was posted on Gemma's account with the caption: Celebrating with my favorite co-worker, such a happy day!~ Even though so many colleagues had celebrated with her, she only posted pictures of her and Justin. Her intentions couldn't be more obvious. I let out a soft chuckle. My eyes fell on the comment he was pointing at: To be honest, this guy has a girlfriend. Below the comment was a photo of Justin and me. No wonder he thought it was me. Justin glared at me. "Gemma's account is getting spammed with hate right now. People are calling her a home-wrecker. If this gets out, it will ruin her promotion!" "Go post a reply right now. Say you're his girlfriend and you were there too, and that you guys are all just good friends." "What if I say no?" Justin stunned, his expression hardening. "Chloe, you didn't use to be so petty." The disappointment in his eyes was palpable, as if I was the villain in this story. Yet, he was the one who crossed every boundary. Before I could speak, Gemma suddenly burst into tears. "I'm really not a home-wrecker... If our boss sees those comments, my promotion will be canceled!" My parents were standing a few yards away. They didn't know what was happening, but they looked over with deep concern. Justin gritted his teeth. "Chloe, if you don't fix this, I'm going to ask your parents to talk some sense into you!" He turned to walk toward them. "I'll do it," I called out, my voice ice-cold. I didn't want my parents to worry about my relationship drama anymore. I opened the post and replied under the comment: I am the girlfriend. Actually, ex-girlfriend. We broke up, and whatever they do has nothing to do with me. Justin frowned slightly. "You didn't have to say we broke up just to clear her name." But now that the crisis was averted, his expression softened. He looked at me gratefully. "Chloe, I knew you were still the sweet girl I loved. I'll make sure to rush over to dinner with your parents tomorrow night." I didn't say a word. Taking my silence as agreement, he wrapped his arm around Gemma and walked away. The next day, dinner was set for 6:00 PM. At 7:00 PM, Justin texted saying he just finished driving Gemma home and was on his way. At 8:00 PM, he texted saying Gemma had severe cramps and he had to run to the pharmacy to get her medicine, so he'd be a little late. At 9:00 PM, hurried footsteps echoed outside our private dining room. In the next second, the door burst open. Justin rushed in, holding several gift bags. "Mr. and Mrs. Smith, I am so sorry I'm late..." But when he saw the scene inside, the smile on his face instantly froze.
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