Chapter 2
He bent down, grabbed his suit jacket from the couch, and tossed it over his shoulder. With his other hand, he grabbed Delilah's hand.
"Sorry, I don't play that game," he said.
He stopped at the door, shot me a look full of mockery, and sneered, "When you're out there, beaten and broken, crying to come back, make sure you take a number. Because—"
He glanced at Delilah by his side. "My tastes have changed. I'm not into stiff, dull alpha females anymore."
The door slammed shut.
At last, the world was quiet.
I stared at the cash scattered all over the floor and those obnoxiously pink stilettos, then slowly sank to the ground.
I couldn't hold back the tears anymore; they fell onto the back of my hand.
It wasn't because I missed Gideon. It was because I realized I'd thrown away three years of my life, like tossing it to the dogs.
To help him start his business, I worked myself to the bone—sketching designs, running around construction sites, chasing down investors.
I ended up hospitalized with a bleeding stomach from stress and overwork, while he was hanging out with some college girl, playing games.
When I collapsed from exhaustion at the site, he was busy posting selfies online, pretending everything was just peachy.
I always thought he was just immature.
So the truth was — he just didn't love me.
Once I got myself together, I grabbed that silk slip Delilah had tainted, plus everything Gideon ever left—his toothbrush, slippers, even that tacky, pointless puzzle he gave me—and stuffed it all into a trash bag.
I went downstairs and tossed the whole thing straight into the dumpster.
Did it all in one go.
As soon as I got home, my best friend Brielle started blowing up my phone.
"Seraphina! Did you see what Gideon posted? That idiot's totally lost it!"
I was drying my hair, and put her on speaker. "I blocked him. Can't see anything."
"I'll send you a screenshot! Ugh, I'm so mad I could scream—those two are absolute trash!" Brielle said.
She sent me a screenshot.
Gideon had posted a pic of himself and Delilah at the amusement park.
He was rocking some goofy bunny ears, a heart doodled on his cheek, and looking at her with that over-the-top, doting smile.
The caption read: [After all this time, turns out the right person was right here all along. Those dull days are finally over.]
The comments were full of their mutual friends hyping them up.
[Bro, you finally escaped the misery!]
[Damn, your new girl's gorgeous! Way better than that bossy workaholic dragon lady you used to date.]
[Now that's what dating should be—find someone sweet, not someone nagging like your mom. Who wants that?]
Seeing the words "dragon lady" and "mom" felt like getting stabbed right in the heart, the pain spreading everywhere.
It turned out, in their eyes, all those years I spent struggling alongside Gideon—helping him build his business, handling everything for him, taking care of his daily life—just made me his mom, and that was nothing but "boring."
Brielle was raging on the other end. "Is Gideon blind? When his company was about to crash and burn, who took her house money and plugged the hole? Now he's rolling in cash, and suddenly you're 'boring'? He should piss on the floor and take a good, hard look at himself!"
"Brielle," I cut her off, my voice eerily calm. "I've made a decision."
"What decision?" she asked.
"Crestmark Holdings asked if I wanted to transfer to Merrowbay to lead that new project. I said yes," I said.
There was a beat of silence, then Brielle shrieked, "Merrowbay? You mean that promotion with a fat raise, but it's like a million miles from home? Weren't you dead set against it before, just because of Gideon?"
"Yeah," I said, staring out at the gloomy sky, letting out a self-mocking laugh. "I was stupid before. But now, all the nonsense is out of my head. It's finally time to live for myself."
This time, for real—I was totally over Gideon.
My flight to Merrowbay was booked for three days later.
Those three days were a blur—handing off my work, checking out of my apartment, and packing up everything I owned. Staying busy meant I didn't have a second to wallow in self-pity.
The last night before I left.
At 2 a.m.
I was barely asleep when that number I could recognize in my sleep flashed across my phone.
Even though I'd blocked him, the call still showed up. I glanced at the screen, but didn't answer.
Then, a text from a random number lit up my phone:
[Seraphina, Gideon's wasted, and his stomach's messed up. He keeps calling your name. I know you can't stand me, but he's really hurting right now. Can you please come help him out? We're at Ember Lounge, Suite 888. Please, I'm begging you. —Delilah]
Seeing that message, my heart twisted, even though I wanted to stay numb.
Gideon wrecked his stomach from all those nights drinking during his startup grind.
Whenever it hit, he turned ghostly pale from the pain, and the only thing that ever helped was the stomach-soothing broth I used to make for him.
Logic told me to just let it go.
But after three years, the habit was burned into me—my body just reacted on its own.
I hesitated for ten minutes, then muttered to myself about being pathetic, threw on my coat, and headed out the door.
Let it be...a final goodbye.
On the way, I grabbed some medicine for his stomach.