Chapter 2

I stared at Andrew's transfer, dazed.

When I first insisted on paying Andrew rent, he hated it. We actually fought over it. He said we were practically family and there was no point in splitting hairs. I was the one who pushed until he gave in.

He sighed and said he would save every penny I gave him and buy me pretty dresses and bags someday.

Now, after the Venmo, he added that he was traveling for work the following week and would deduct his portion for those days. He said my share for the next month would be a little higher.

I closed my eyes. "Okay."

He did not know.

Soon, I would not be here at all.

The next afternoon, I took two hours off to look at apartments.

My agent was great and found me a place near my office, just ten minutes away. I signed the lease on the spot. Then I booked movers for the following day.

I went back to work.

When I got home that evening, laughter spilled through the door.

Emily said, "Claire. I felt so bad about ruining your movie night, so I bought groceries and came over for hot pot to make it up to you."

She beamed at me. But my eyes locked on the bracelet on her wrist.

Andrew bought that with his first paycheck from his college part-time job. It was his first gift to me. I treasured it so much that I never wore it because I was afraid of damaging it.

Now it was wrapped around Emily's arm.

Andrew noticed me staring. "You never wore it anyway. Emily likes it, so I gave it to her."

Fine. Less stuff to pack.

I nodded and went to my room, digging out every gift he had ever given me.

Then I brought them all out in a box. "Do you want any of this? I never use it."

There was the first dress he ever bought me. He spent half his paycheck on it.

There was the designer bag he waited in line for, just to get it for me.

And there was the snow globe he gave me for my birthday.

Inside the globe, there were little figurines of us, with our initials carved inside.

He made it himself.

When he gave it to me, he said, "This snow globe represents us. If you ever stop loving me, just smash it, and I'll know."

His voice had been sad, but his eyes were so sure of our future.

I still remembered that day. He also said that he would never give me a reason to break it and that I was stuck with him forever.

He said it offhand, like it was nothing.

He probably forgot all about it, but I remember every word.

"This is pretty." Andrew picked up the snow globe and handed it to Emily. "You girls like sparkly things. Claire does not want it. Take it home."

Emily's eyes lit up. She grabbed the whole box. "Thanks, Claire. I love everything. I will take good care of them."

I nodded and left it at that.

When dinner time came, I realized they'd made a spicy chili.

I couldn't handle heat at all.

"Never mind, you two go ahead. I'm not hungry," I said, starting to get up.

But the moment I moved, Andrew frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? Emily spent two hours making this chili to make it up to you, and this is how you treat her?"

Andrew and I had been together for three years.

He knew better than anyone that I couldn't eat spicy food.

He always avoided chili when cooking for me.

Now he was scolding me for Emily.

I looked back at him. "Andrew. I cannot eat spicy food."

He paused, like it had just hit him. "Sorry. Forgot."

He remembered Emily's love for heat, her favorite dishes, and her go-to yogurt flavor. But he forgot me.

I said nothing and went to my room.

The next morning, after Andrew left for work, the movers arrived.

I did not have much stuff. One trip was enough.

As I followed them downstairs, passing the dumpster by the gate, something caught my eye.

The dress I had never worn was shredded beyond recognition, and the snow globe he had made with his own hands was shattered into a thousand pieces.

Everything I had once held precious was now garbage, tossed in the filth like it meant nothing.

I looked away and saw movers hauling a huge box out of a truck.

One of them said, "Careful. Mr. Bennett bought the most expensive massage chair for his girlfriend. If you break it, you are out two months of pay. Make sure it gets to 901 safe and sound."

Room 901, that was Emily's place.

I had once told Andrew I wanted a massage chair for when work wore me out.

He shot it down with three words. Too much space.

Emily's apartment was the exact same floor plan as mine.

Looking back now, I realized it wasn't the massage chair that was taking up space. It was me.

I got in the car and left for good.

After I settled into my new place, I finally breathed and opened Instagram.

Emily had posted a new nine-grid.

More screenshots of her chats with Andrew. She would send him a link for something she wanted, clothes, bags, skincare, that massage chair I had just seen, and he would buy it without a word.

The last screenshot showed his message.

[Emily wants. Emily gets.]

Within minutes, Emily's post was already getting a bunch of likes. The landlady was one of them.

She didn't just like it. She even left a comment.

[Young lady, there aren't many good men left in this world. Your boyfriend treats you so well. You need to keep a close eye on him. Watch out for anyone with sticky fingers.]

Then she tagged me and asked if I agreed.

She was clearly siding with Emily.

I was about to reply when another comment popped up from Andrew.

[Do not worry. What is hers stays hers. No one can take it.]

I looked at those words.

Then I typed, [You are right.]

So I would not fight Emily for Andrew.

I closed the app and deleted Mrs. Patterson, Andrew, and Emily from all my contacts.

From now on, they were nothing to me.

Meanwhile, Andrew stared at my last message, an uneasy knot forming in his chest.

He opened our chat to text me and saw the red exclamation point.

Then Mrs. Patterson sent him a Venmo for his security deposit refund.

Andrew stared. [Why are you refunding me?]

Mrs. Patterson: [Your friend moved out. I am returning the deposit, of course. Listen, young man, just focus on your girlfriend and build a good life together. Do not let that trashy woman drag you down.]

Emily, sitting across from him at dinner, only caught the last part. "Who is Mrs. Patterson talking about?"