Chapter 2

Harry slammed the car door shut, the loud bang echoing through the garage.

"Josie, that's enough," he shouted, pointing right at my face. "I'm already dead tired from work every day, and I still have to deal with your suspicion when I get home. Roxanne is only a coworker.

"If you can't even trust me on this, what's the point of us being together?"

Trust. This word cut deep.

I looked at him, the man I'd loved for three years. Those eyes once held nothing but warmth for me, but now they were cold, impatient, and distant.

I remembered six months ago, he started working late all the time; three months ago, he changed his phone password; and last month, when I noticed a strange perfume on his collar, he claimed it was from a work dinner.

Every single time, I chose to trust him, until these chip crumbs showed up like the last piece of proof.

"We should break up," I said. My voice was quiet, yet it rang clearly through the silent garage.

Harry froze. He never thought I'd say that.

In his mind, I'd always been the one who couldn't live without him, who texted him after being ignored, who cooked dinner for him, and who stayed up all night taking care of him when he was sick.

"What did you say?" he asked, stunned.

"I said we should break up," I repeated, more firmly this time.

Harry's expression shifted from shock to anger, then settled into a cold, contemptuous smile.

"Josie, you're being more and more ridiculous," he said, shaking his head. "Do you want to break up over some chip crumbs? Do you know how many people out there would envy you? How many women would want what you have?"

I looked at him and suddenly found it hilarious. "So what now? Am I supposed to feel grateful? Thank you for choosing an ordinary woman like me out of all his options?"

"That's not what I meant," Harry said quickly, realizing he'd said the wrong thing.

"Then what do you mean?" I cut him off. "Harry, it's been three years. I was there when you had nothing but a rented apartment, and I stayed when you started building your life.

"I tolerated your temper, your selfishness. I even swallowed your excuses about never wanting marriage. I thought if I did enough, you'd eventually notice."

I wiped my tears away, trying to steady myself. "Now I get it. It's not that you don't want to get married. You simply don't want to marry me. And those so-called principles of yours? They only exist when it's convenient."

Harry's face went pale. He opened his mouth like he wanted to respond, but nothing came out.

"Those chip crumbs aren't just food," I said, meeting his eyes, making sure he heard every word. "They're proof that someone else is allowed into your world. A world I spent three years trying to enter and never truly reached."

I turned to leave, but Harry suddenly grabbed my wrist.

"Josie, come on, don't do this," his voice went soft, a little desperate. "I know I haven't been good to you lately.

"Work has been killing me, and maybe I haven't paid enough attention to you. You can't dump me over something so trivial."

There it was again. Every argument ended the same way. He would admit he "hadn't been good enough", yet never once admit he had actually done anything wrong.

"This isn't trivial, Harry," I said, pulling my hand away. "It's a sign that we're done."

I made my way toward the elevator, not hesitating for a second.

Harry called my name from behind me, but I didn't look back.

Right before the elevator doors shut, I saw him still standing there, looking more panicked than I'd ever seen him.

However, it was too late.

The elevator numbers ticked upward. I leaned against the wall and finally broke down, sobbing out loud.

Three years together, and in the end, it all came down to a few chip crumbs.

It was ridiculous and kind of sad.

When the elevator finally reached the first floor, I wiped my tears away and stepped out.

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Harry.

Harry: [Josie, can we please talk? Roxanne really is a coworker. Don't overthink it. I'll get off work early tomorrow. Let's go get your favorite risotto, okay?]

I stared at the message, feeling completely drained.

He didn't even know I never liked risotto.

What I really loved was hot wings, the super spicy kind that made my eyes water, but he always said it was unhealthy or too strong, so we'd end up at fancy restaurants instead. Places he thought looked more "proper".

I turned off my phone and flagged down a cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

I gave him my best friend, Chelsea Gaines's, address. Right now, I needed somewhere I could cry without holding back.

*****

When Chelsea opened the door and saw my swollen eyes, she didn't ask a single question. She opened her arms and pulled me into a hug.

We'd known each other for ten years, ever since we were roommates in college. She'd seen me at my worst, including the version of me who couldn't sleep all night when Harry first started chasing me.

"Did he cheat on you?" Chelsea asked, handing me a cup of hot cocoa, cutting right to the chase.

I held the cup while the steam made my eyes sting again. "I don't even know if it really counts as cheating, but he let another woman eat in his car."

Chelsea's worried face twisted into confusion. "Wait, just because someone ate in his car?"

I smiled bitterly. It really did sound ridiculous. A week ago, I probably would have felt the same way.

If she had been there, she would have understood. It wasn't about the food. It was about boundaries, about who got special treatment, about the silent rules that suddenly break.

I told Chelsea about the chip crumbs and Harry's hypocrisy.

As she listened, her expression slowly darkened.

"So, Roxanne's been in his car more than once, huh?" Chelsea caught on quickly.

"He said it's two or three times a week," I replied, taking a sip of hot cocoa, the sweetness helping calm me a little. "But he's been working late a lot lately. It might be more than that."

Chelsea was quiet for a moment, then suddenly asked, "Do you remember that girl from Harry's company we ran into at the mall last month?"

I frowned, trying to recall.

Last month, while Chelsea and I were at the mall, we did run into one of Harry's coworkers, but it wasn't Roxanne. It was another girl named Vera Hughes.

Vera gave me this weird look, like she wanted to say something but held back.

I asked if something was up, but she merely smiled and said, "Harry is a lucky man."

Looking back now, that smile clearly held something unsaid.