Chapter 3

I suddenly remembered last winter, when Alex was working the night shift. I brought him a scarf and saw him joking around with his colleagues at the station entrance.

One guy teased, "Does your girlfriend keep you on a short leash?"

Alex replied, "She never hounds me. She trusts me."

I stood there in the wind, and my heart melted.

Looking back now, I realized that wasn't trust. It was like letting someone take the wheel while blindfolded, and still calling them a pro driver.

I set my phone down on the table. "You told me you were at Southville Intersection tonight."

He said, "I got reassigned last minute."

"To the bar's entrance?"

"Yes."

"Reassigned to holding your ex?"

His face finally darkened. "Rosy, do you have to talk like that?"

I fell silent too.

The only sound left in the room was the hum of the air conditioner, like a quiet sigh drifting from the corner.

Alex saw I wasn't responding, and his tone softened. "Rosy, I know you'd mind. But I swear, I didn't do anything to hurt you. Sophie was drunk and asked for help. I only carried her inside so she could rest."

I asked, "Why didn't she call a designated driver?"

"She doesn't trust strangers."

"She trusts you."

He paused.

I smiled. "Funny thing is, I used to trust you too."

At my words, Alex's fingers tightened, his knuckles turning bloodless against his knee.

He stared at me, finally realizing this was way more than a silly, petty fight.

I got up and went to the bedroom, pulling out a duffel bag.

Alex followed me, his voice tight. "What are you doing?"

I stuffed a few of his clothes inside and then added his razor, electric toothbrush, and two professional books. "I'm trying to make your commute a little more convenient for you."

"Rosy."

"Don't act like we're so close." I zipped up the bag. "I bet you had your hands full with pet names when you were holding her tonight."

He stood in the doorway, face twisted with frustration. "Are you kicking me out?"

I handed him the duffel bag. "Not kicking you out. It's a little temporary roadblock."

He didn't take it.

I set the bag down at his feet. "Alex, you made this choice yourself. Don't stay where you're not allowed."

His Adam's apple bobbed. That night, he picked up the bag and left in the end.

The door clicked shut softly, but as I sat on the edge of the bed, it felt like something deep inside me snapped clean in half.

*****

The next morning at seven, I was woken up by a call from my bestie, Clara White.

She rambled in a flustered tone, "Rosy, what's that empty milkshake cup you posted on Instagram last night supposed to mean? Don't scare me like that. The milkshake has gone, but you can't let yourself fall apart."

I lay sprawled over my pillow, my throat scratchy and hoarse. "It means the chocolate chips were super chewy."

"Cut the crap. Where's Alex?"

"He's got a temporary detour. Road's closed for now."

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Clara sucked in a sharp breath. "Is something wrong with him?"

"Nothing like that. He picked another woman up in his arms," I said.

"Who was it?"

"Sophie."

Clara's cup hit the table. "You mean Alex's ex? The one who's always posting 'life is worth it' on Instagram, no matter the season, and there's always a guy's watch sneaking into her photos?"

I closed my eyes. "You notice way too much."

"I'm not being nosy. It's that she always likes your boyfriend's posts at midnight, like she's got some midnight ritual or something."

Clara worked as a copywriter at an ad agency. She had a quick tongue, could fire off rhyming comebacks when tearing someone down, but never managed to come up with smooth lines to cheer people up.

She said, "Send me your address. I'll bring you breakfast."

"No, thanks," I replied.

"Then should I bring a knife?"

"Pick up some almond milk."

*****

Twenty minutes later, she stormed into my place with a bag of hamburgers in hand.

As soon as the door opened, she scanned the entryway. "Alex's shoes are not here. He's gone?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"Nice. You're pretty fast." She handed me the almond milk with a straw. "First step after a breakup: load up on carbs. You can break up with love, but never with sugar."

I sat down at the table and took a bite of the hamburger. The patty was so hot that my tongue went numb. Strangely, I liked the feeling.

Clara sat across from me and grabbed my phone. "Password?"

"You already know it."

"I do, but I need your official okay. I don't want you to say I invaded your privacy later."

I told her the password.

She opened up Sophie's Instagram and found that Sophie's latest post was from 2 AM.

The photo showed a blue cocktail, with part of a man's hand in the shot. His wrist was slim, and there was a small scar at the base of his thumb.

I recognized that scar. Alex got it last year when he was fixing the flower rack on my balcony. He got scratched by a wire.

The caption read: [Some people keep circling back, but they always show up at night.]

Clara read it and let out a cold laugh. "If she sent me this copy, I'd make her rewrite it. Circling back? That's getting lost on the way."

I took the phone and stared at the photo for a few seconds. My chest didn't sting as much as I expected.

Maybe all the sharp pain hit me last night. This morning, there was only a dull, hollow feeling, as if the heartbroken moment had been history.

Clara asked, "What are you gonna do?"

I took a sip of almond milk. "I'll go to work first."

"You're still going to the office?"

"Is Sophie gonna pay my bills for me if I don't show up?"