Chapter 3

The next day, mutual friends invited us out to dinner. Knowing I wouldn't see them for three years, I agreed.

By the time I got there after work, almost everyone had arrived.

I pushed the door of the private room open and immediately saw Ethan and Chloe sitting side by side.

Chloe waved me over. I ignored her and grabbed a seat wherever.

Before the food even came, Chloe started intercepting Ethan's drinks.

A guy across the table egged him on: "Ethan, come on, one drink."

She took the glass. "Ethan's not drinking tonight. I'll cover for him."

She tipped her head back, downed it, and flashed the guy a smile.

Ethan leaned toward her and murmured something. She shook her head, then picked up her fork, cut a piece of salmon, trimmed off the edges, and placed it on his plate.

Intercepting drinks. Sharing food. Whispering. Every glance was on him.

Maya sat next to me, quietly poked my arm, and gestured toward them with her eyes.

I said, "It's fine. Just eat."

It was raining when the gathering ended.

I hadn't brought an umbrella. Before leaving, I mentioned it to Ethan.

He was bent over his phone, hailing an Uber for Chloe. Didn't even look up.

"Mm, call one yourself. I'll wait with Chloe—I wouldn't feel right leaving her."

The rain wasn't heavy, but the Uber's location glitched twice, traffic was terrible, and by the time I got home I was soaked through.

Ethan and Chloe still weren't back.

That night, I took my temperature: 102 degrees.

I texted Ethan: "I have a fever. Can you grab me a box of Tylenol from the CVS downstairs on your way back?"

Half an hour later, he replied:

"Chlo's not doing great emotionally tonight, I'm going to sit by the river with her for a bit. If you're feeling really bad, just Uber yourself to urgent care. Don't tough it out."

I stared at those lines for a long time.

He was sitting by the Charles River with her, letting the wind blow through her hair.

I put my phone down, grabbed my coat, went downstairs, called a car, and took myself to the nearest urgent care.

While I was waiting for my number to be called, Chloe posted an Instagram Story.

The photo was the Charles River at night, two trendy coffees perched on the railing, Ethan holding one.

Only his profile was in the frame. Wind lifted his hair a little. Lights and water in the background.

The caption read: "The night wind is so strong. Thanks for being with me."

I turned my phone face-down on my knee.

Urgent care had the AC blasting. I wrapped my coat tight, listened to the nurse call numbers, my mind blank.

Early the next morning, I opened my laptop.

I'd downloaded the school's academic leave application form two weeks ago and left it sitting in a folder untouched.

I filled it out, attached a copy of Professor Laurent's invitation letter, and sent it to the department.

I'd only chosen this program to stay in Boston. Ethan was here. Every plan I had revolved around this one person.

Now I was cutting my last reason loose.

The department sent back a confirmation. I cc'd my advisor.

Then I opened the email thread from Paris and looked over the flight information again.

Two weeks. Then Paris.

I saved a screenshot of the itinerary, shut the laptop, and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

In the living room, Chloe was on the couch scrolling Instagram. Ethan sat next to her. They were debating where to go for the weekend.

I walked past them with my glass, went back into the study, and closed the door behind me.

Soon enough, I wouldn't have to see them anymore.