Chapter 3

"Take care of that cut. I need to go find her, it's late. Get some rest."

Something in his voice goes soft. My heart drops one last time.

"Just go. I'm selling the house. Don't come back."

He snaps.

"What is your PROBLEM? I told you nothing happened! What do you want?"

Nothing. I just don't love you anymore.

"We're over. So yeah, I'm selling it. You're so obsessed with keeping her safe, go live with her."

I don't look up. I crouch down and start picking up glass with my bare hands. The photo cracked right down the middle. Me on one side, torn apart. Them on the other, perfectly fine.

My calm makes him crazy. Like my peace is a slap in his face.

"Go ahead. Keep this up. You'll come crawling back begging me to marry you."

I drop the photo and the glass in the trash. My voice is barely there.

"No I won't. I'm leaving."

"Fine. Run. Go far this time. I'm not coming after you."

The door slams.

I watch him go and feel nothing.

I used to pull this after every fight. Storm off to the park down the block. Sit on a bench. Wait. Because he always came looking.

Then one day he just stopped.

"I'm beat. Can you quit it? Why can't you be more like Vanessa? She can actually talk shop. All you do is fight with me."

Morning.

I zip up the suitcase. Carry a box out to the backyard. Strike a match.

Fire catches. Eight years. Ten years. All of it. Up in smoke.

That's when Ethan walks in. He sees what's burning and goes white. Lunges for the fire, bare hands, trying to pull stuff out. Too late.

He grabs my arm. Eyes wild.

"Why? You loved that stuff more than anything."

"I did. Not anymore."

The scrapbook Vanessa made me before exams. Every page full of photos, little notes, doodles. The bracelet she bought with her first paycheck.

And his stuff. Every love letter. The matching mugs from pottery class. When you stop loving someone, it's all just garbage.

He stares at me. Trying to read me. Getting nothing.

He drops his hands.

"You just want an explanation, right? Me and her, it's friend stuff. Nothing crossed a line."

One tear rolls down. I didn't mean to cry. It's just so pathetic it's funny.

You don't have to touch someone to cheat.

The snow trip. He took a photo and turned around to text it to her. Disneyland. He didn't grab the one I pointed at. He picked up a different one and paid for it. Gave it to Vanessa later.

I was right there. Standing right next to him. And his mind was on her.

"Stop. I don't need your explanations. I'm leaving. None of it matters."

My phone screen is still on. Flight to New York. He glances at it.

"Work trip? We'll figure out the wedding when you're back."

He doesn't push. I don't explain.

"What if I don't come back?"