My boyfriend has always been… adventurous. In that way. So, after we first slept together, it didn’t take long for him to start coaxing me into trying things. Toys, mostly. But when he pulled out a ring box, and I thought my moment had finally come, I was the one who ended it. He slammed the car to a stop on the shoulder of the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Say that again.” I closed my eyes, the words a lead weight on my tongue. “We’re done.” “Get out. I don’t make a habit of driving strangers home.” He popped the locks, and just like that, I was on the side of the road, watching his taillights disappear into the night. I had to find a new apartment, a new job. Start a new life. Tearing someone out of your life, piece by piece, is an agony. But the first lesson of adulthood, I’m learning, is this: You have to learn to accept loss with grace. Months later, at a dinner party, news got back to him that I’d gone home to let my mom set me up on dates. Leo’s eyes went red, and he shattered the glass he was holding. “Quinn,” he seethed, his voice a low growl that cut through the chatter. “How fucking dare you.” 1 Leaving our friend’s wedding, my mind was buzzing. I couldn’t help it. What would my wedding with Leo be like? “Will you marry me?” The words slipped out, surprising even me. A ghost of a memory, a scene that felt like it had played out a hundred times before. “Leo, marry me!” “When are you going to marry me?” “Do you think you’ll ever marry me?” The questions echoed in my mind, a timeline of my own hope decaying. From the confident demands of early love to the desperate, whispered pleas of a woman terrified of the answer. Leo kept one hand on the wheel, reaching into the back seat with the other and dropping a heavy shopping bag into my lap. My breath hitched. My heart fluttered with a nervous, hopeful tremor. A ring? God, it wasn’t romantic at all, but who cared? A grin I couldn’t contain spread across my face. Carefully, I pulled apart the layers of crisp, expensive tissue paper. But what I saw inside wasn't a velvet box. It was one of his new toys, nestled on top of a black lace teddy. I froze. Leo let out a low chuckle. “Latest model. I bought the whole collection,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Tonight. Let’s try them all out. Hmm?” It was like he hadn’t heard me. Like he hadn’t heard me talk about getting married in a church, the sunlight streaming through stained glass. Like he hadn’t seen me, just an hour ago at the reception, closing my eyes and making a wish for us, for a forever that felt more and more like a fantasy. 2 “Is that honestly all you ever think about?” Leo couldn’t understand why my mood had suddenly curdled. He was obsessed with the physical side of our relationship, the constant pursuit of a new high. After we first started sleeping together, he’d gently pushed me into trying his toys. I’d gone from blushing and hesitant to… compliant. But tonight, the chasm between what I’d hoped for and what I’d received felt too wide to cross. The disappointment was a physical ache in my chest. “What the hell is your problem?” he snapped. “Who else am I supposed to talk to about this stuff with, if not you?” “Then talk to someone else. We’re done.” The screech of tires was deafening. The seatbelt locked hard across my chest, knocking the wind out of me and making my heart pound with a pain that had nothing to do with the sudden stop. The car jerked to a halt. Leo’s voice was dangerously low, laced with fury. “You say that again.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “We’re done.” “Get out,” he said, the words clipped and cold. “I don’t make a habit of driving strangers home.” Strangers. Just like that. A stranger. Five years of my life, of our life, erased in a single word. He said it, but he didn’t unlock the doors. The streetlights outside were dim, casting long, menacing shadows. He knew I was terrified of the dark. He was waiting. He was always waiting for me to be the one to back down, to apologize. But tonight, an exhaustion so profound it felt like it was in my bones washed over me. It wrapped around my throat, tight and suffocating. Just as the panic began to set in, I heard my own voice, raw and raspy, but laced with a resolve I hadn’t known I possessed. “Unlock the door.” A humorless, chilling laugh escaped his lips. “You’ve got guts, Quinn. I’ll give you that.” Then, the sharp click of the locks disengaging. I didn’t hesitate. I pushed the door open and stepped out into the cold night air. The second I slammed the door shut, I heard him curse, a muffled "fuck" from inside the car. His night ruined, Leo stomped on the gas. The engine roared, and the car shot away from the curb, leaving me standing alone. The streetlights flickered, a weak, inconsistent glow. And in that moment, the suffocating feeling in my chest began to ease. The darkness didn’t feel so terrifying anymore. Not compared to the feeling of drowning. A memory surfaced, unbidden, from a lifetime ago. Him, so nervous and hopeful, stopping me on the campus quad. “Quinn? I’m… I’m a huge fan of your videos,” he’d stammered. “Can I… can I get your number?” 3 Leo was a year behind me in college. The moment he stepped on campus, he became an instant legend on the university’s anonymous "Crush Confessions" page. I was, at the time, a moderately well-known campus creator, famous for my goofy, slice-of-life videos. That’s how I ended up hosting the Welcome Week talent show, and how he ended up on stage as the freshman class representative. That was the night the gears of our fate began to turn. During rehearsals, he’d show up with two brown sugar boba teas, claiming they were having a two-for-one special. When I was out sketching near the art building, he’d just “happen” to be walking by. “Quinn! Hey, what a coincidence!” I’d looked up from my sketchbook, shielding my eyes from the sun that haloed his head. “Are you following me, Leo?” He nodded instinctively before his eyes widened and he shook his head violently. I saw the tips of his ears turn a deep, tell-tale crimson. I picked up my charcoal pencil and, with a few quick strokes, captured the flustered, handsome boy in front of me. As he stood there, shifting his weight, not knowing what to do with his hands, I tore the page out and handed it to him. “That boba place never has a two-for-one special,” I said. “Here. Payment.” He stared down at the sketch of himself, a slow smile spreading across his face. He carefully folded it and tucked it into his pocket like it was a winning lottery ticket. Later, he would call it our first love letter. He slung my heavy art portfolio over his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and we fell into step beside each other. He told me my videos had been his escape during the soul-crushing pressure of senior year and college applications. “You mean those stupid comedy skits? I’m glad they made you laugh.” He stopped walking, turning to face me with an almost shocking intensity. “They weren’t stupid,” he said, his voice earnest. “They were… warm. Full of life. They made me feel like I wanted to get closer to the person making them.” As he spoke, he took a half-step closer. He told me I was the reason he’d chosen this university. The summer breeze drifted between us, carrying the scent of cut grass and distant traffic. I thought I could hear a heart beating, fast and unsteady. Maybe it was his. Maybe it was mine. On my birthday, he showed up at my dorm with a cake he’d baked himself, his face lit with a smile so pure it almost hurt to look at. “Happy birthday, Quinn,” he said softly. “You made it another year. You’re doing great.” That night, there was still a smudge of frosting at the corner of his mouth. On impulse, I leaned in and kissed it away. A light, feather-soft touch. Leo froze, his eyes widening in shock. In the silence that followed, his body betrayed him. We both looked down. He looked away, mortified, tugging at the hem of his hoodie to cover himself. “Oh, God. I’m… I’m so sorry, I…” Seeing him so flustered, his ears glowing red as he tried to explain himself into a hole, I couldn’t help but laugh. My laughter made his entire face flush. He bit his lip, humiliated, and pulled his hood up over his head, hiding everything but his mouth. I knelt, resting my hands on his knees, and found his lips again. His almond-shaped eyes, shimmering with a desperate, restrained need, met mine. “Is this… is this okay?” he whispered. I smiled and nodded, and my answer was lost in a soft cry… He held my face in his hands, kissing me from my forehead to the tip of my nose. He was clumsy and inexperienced, but so achingly eager. “I’ll take responsibility,” he whispered against my skin, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ll get married. Right after graduation. Quinn, baby, we’ll get married right after graduation, okay?” Eventually, I graduated. And then, so did he. But that wedding, our graduation ceremony, never came. 4 I squatted by the side of the road, waiting for a ride. An hour passed. My legs were completely numb by the time a cab finally pulled over. The driver asked me where I was going. I paused, then just named the closest hotel. Inside the sterile room, I stared at the empty chat window with Leo. My heart felt just as hollow. I was the one who said it was over. So why was I the one who felt like this? I sniffled, my thumb hovering over his name before I finally removed him from my “pinned” contacts. As I did, his profile picture lit up. A new post. The caption: Single and loving it. The likes were already pouring in. A screenshot popped up on my phone from Maya, my old college roommate. [Saw the post. Are you two really done?] [Yeah.] The three dots appeared and disappeared for a long time. Finally: [So… if you’re broken up, is it okay if I try to ask him out?] [To be honest, I had a huge crush on him back when he was a freshman.] [But you got to him first. Now that you’re not together, it’s not like I’d be stepping on any toes.] I thought back to college. How she’d always claim she was bored and tag along on my movie dates with Leo. He could never stand her. “That friend of yours,” he used to mutter in my ear, “she’s bad news.” “Why do you say that?” I’d ask. He’d get irritated. “Just… stay away from her!” I’d always brushed it off as him being jealous, not wanting a third wheel. I never took it seriously. Later, our RA told me Maya was going through a tough breakup. She was withdrawn and quiet, crying in her room all the time. She started avoiding me, and if we passed in the hallway, she’d give me an icy glare. I never understood why. Now, I was starting to get the picture. Maya sent a few more texts, probing for information. [What kind of stuff is he into?] [Does he like spicy food?] I didn’t reply. I just shut my phone off. I slept badly, caught in a tangle of disjointed dreams I couldn’t remember. All I knew was that when I woke up, my pillow was damp with tears. I turned my phone back on. A string of missed calls. All from Leo. A moment later, his name flashed across the screen again. I hesitated, then swiped to answer. His voice was lazy, with the rough, sandpaper edge of someone who’s been up all night. “Your little friend told me you were giving her pointers on how to get with me,” he said, without a hello. “Quinn, you’re a fucking saint to your friends, you know that?” “Honestly, I was getting a little bored of you anyway. What was her name? Maya? Not much to look at, but she has a great body. Thanks for the hookup, ex-girlfriend.” 5 He hung up before I could say a word. I stared at the number, a number I knew by heart, for a long, long time. Then I moved it to my blocked list. Maya’s Instagram story updated. A mirror selfie, wearing nothing but a towel. I laughed, a dry, humorless sound. A single tear tracked a cold path down my cheek. Because I recognized the bathroom behind her. The marble, the fixtures. I’d picked them out myself. It was the apartment Leo and I had shared for two years. The home we’d built together, piece by piece, memory by memory. The emotional backlash was violent, a physical clenching in my chest. It was almost funny. It had been less than six hours since I’d ended things. And he’d already moved someone else in. He’d moved her into our home. Into our memories. He’d taken our past and simply… turned the page. Our five years together had been closed like a book, and he hadn’t even bothered to dog-ear a favorite chapter. I was the one who pushed him away. Yes. I was the one. So I shouldn’t be the one crying. I shouldn't be the one in pain. But I couldn’t stop the question from tearing through me. Why? Why would he do that? How could he so casually bring her into the space that held so much of us, so many of our beautiful moments? His nonchalance made me question everything. All those promises, spoken with such conviction, such certainty. Were they all lies? Didn’t our five years mean enough to deserve even a little respect? But I was forgetting. Promises made in love have an expiration date. And ours had just passed. I forced myself to take a breath, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Maybe I should get drunk. If I’m drunk, the tears will stop. If I’m drunk, I won’t be able to think. This is a celebration. A rebirth. Tearing someone out of your life is an agony. But the first lesson is learning to accept loss. You have to understand. Some people are just chapters, not the whole story. 6 I stayed in that hotel room for three days, a ghost in a tomb of empty bottles. Then, my mom called. Just the usual small talk. I gave her the usual report, telling her I was fine, reminding her to make sure Dad was taking his blood pressure medication. But just before we hung up, she sighed, a soft, weary sound. “Honey, if you’re not happy there… you can always come home.” That’s when I realized. The news reports about Leo and Maya attending some gala together, smiling for the cameras. My parents had seen them. They had seen the man who stood in their living room and swore he would cherish me for the rest of his life, now with another woman on his arm. They knew exactly what it meant. The dam I’d built inside myself finally broke. “Mom,” I choked out, “I miss you guys.” I could hear the smile in her voice, but it was trembling. “This morning, I saw your father looking at one of your baby pictures. He said, ‘My daughter is so beautiful. No one is good enough to marry her. I could just keep her with me forever.’” The sound of her laughter, a little watery, came through the phone, and I found myself laughing through my own tears. The shared sound hung in the air for a moment before fading back into silence. “If you’re not happy out there,” she said again, her voice soft, “just come home. Your dad and I… we miss you too.” “Okay,” I whispered. After I hung up, I noticed a single sliver of sunlight had forced its way through a gap in the heavy blackout curtains. The dark room seemed a little warmer. I pulled myself up from the floor, my bare feet navigating the minefield of empty bottles. I walked to the window and threw back the curtains. The light flooded in, painfully bright. I raised a hand to shield my eyes, and as they adjusted, I saw it. It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky. 7 I started sending out my resume. Everywhere. But a two-year gap in my work history made things difficult. During my senior year internship, I’d been followed home by an obsessive fan. It escalated until the police had to get involved. Leo was terrified. He held me, begging me not to go back to work, promising he would take care of me. Truthfully, I was terrified too. If Leo hadn’t shown up when he did… I don’t know what would have happened. So I shut it all down. I deleted the account, cut off all my social media. I put down my paintbrushes and picked up cookbooks. My life became a revolving door of nutritional recipes and home-making projects. My world shrank until it was just Leo, my moods rising and falling with his. And for a while, it was good. It was happy and sweet. But then… His work got busier. He came home later and later. There was always the faint, unfamiliar scent of women’s perfume clinging to his clothes. The worst fight we ever had was after his stunningly beautiful secretary brought him home, completely drunk. There was a pale pink lipstick smudge on the inside of his collar. That was the first time I tried to leave him. He sobered up instantly, promising to fire anyone who tried to come between us. The secretary was gone the next day. It felt like a victory, but I knew, deep down, I hadn’t won anything. Because after that, we stopped fighting about other people. But we never stopped fighting. It could be about the soup being too salty. It could be about the pothos plant on the windowsill that had finally died. Shaking myself from the memories, I sighed. I opened the social media app I hadn’t touched in years and posted for the first time. Hey, guys! Guess who’s back?! I watched the likes and comments start to trickle in. I looked out the window, at the vast, open sky. You can’t stumble forever, I told myself. My luck had to turn eventually. I would allow things to be as they are. 8 I had two interviews that afternoon, so I grabbed a quick lunch at a convenience store. And of course, that’s when it happens. You always run into the last person on earth you want to see when you look your worst. Leo was leaning against the wall outside, a cigarette pinched between his fingers. He looked thinner. The weight loss had sharpened his jawline, making him look more intense, more handsome. He was waiting for someone. Maya, who emerged from the designer boutique next door. I tried to turn away, to disappear into the crowd, but she spotted me. “Quinn! Over here!” she chirped. “I told you it was her, see?” She tucked her arm possessively through Leo’s. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes swept over me, and a small frown creased his brow. “Quinn, what are you eating?” Maya said, pointing at the half-eaten rice ball in my hand with theatrical disgust. “All those cheap carbs will make you bloated.” She turned to Leo, her voice syrupy sweet. “Honey, Quinn is my best friend. Without her, there’d be no us. You have to treat our matchmaker to a proper meal!” Before I could refuse, Leo let out a dry, humorless laugh. “She’s right. We should thank my ex-girlfriend for being such a generous matchmaker.” He bit down on the last two words, making them sound like an insult. Maya’s smile faltered for a second, but she recovered, grabbing my bag and pulling me along with them. The entire meal was a performance, with Maya as the star, showcasing their perfect relationship. “Oh, by the way, Quinn,” she said, setting down her wine glass. “Leo and I are getting married. You know I don’t have many friends, so I was hoping you would be my maid of honor.” She looked at me, her eyes wide and innocent. “You have to come! I mean, since you and Leo have history… you being there would prove that you’ve really moved on, that you’re genuinely happy for us. It would stop people from gossiping, you know? We don’t want any… misunderstandings.” I drained my glass of red wine and met her gaze. “Misunderstandings about what?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “That you two started things the second we were over?” Maya sat up straight, her face flushing. “Don’t look at us like that. We got together after you broke up with him. We don’t owe you anything. Honestly, you’re being really petty. Can’t you just be happy for us?” Leo remained silent, a passive observer in our war of words, but his silence was its own form of agreement. Seeing that he wasn’t going to defend me, a triumphant smirk played on Maya’s lips. I was now officially the bitter, pathetic ex-girlfriend, slandering the happy new couple. The boy who once made eighteen separate burner accounts to defend me against online trolls, the boy who swore he would always have my back, was now sitting across from me, his expression soft as he watched another woman tear me down. I managed a small, tight smile. “When’s the wedding?” Maya froze for a second, caught off guard. Leo answered without missing a beat. “Next month.” He looked at me, his eyes cold and arrogant. “From what I hear, you haven’t found a job yet. So, you should have the time, right, Quinn?” A cold shock went through me. I remembered something he’d once said, boasting about crushing a rival company. “Anyone who pisses me off,” he’d bragged, “I’ll make sure they can never work in this city again.” Ever since his long-lost father—a ridiculously wealthy CEO—had found him and brought him into the family business, Leo’s power and influence had grown exponentially. He could do it. He really could. All my recent job-hunting frustrations suddenly clicked into place. The endless rejections, the HR managers who seemed promising on the phone and then suddenly went cold, their vague, apologetic emails. It all made sense now. Something inside me, the last fragile thread connecting me to him, snapped. I had followed him to this city right after graduation. Now, there was nothing left for me here. I looked up, meeting Leo’s mocking gaze. “Sorry,” I said, my voice even. “I can’t. I have to go back to my hometown next month.” Leo’s brow furrowed, an automatic, almost instinctual question escaping his lips. “For what?” “My mom’s setting me up on some dates.”
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