You Were My Last Straw

Chapter 3

Daphne’s POV

The elevator gives a soft chime as I step into the lobby, my heels clicking rhythmically against the polished marble. It’s late, the kind of late where the city hums low instead of buzzing loud, and all I can think about is shedding these clothes.

By the time I slide into my car, I’m already undoing the buttons of my blazer, feeling the weight of the day ease off my shoulders.

The drive is smooth, with barely any traffic; it's Monday, so no one has time to stress. Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling into my building. The concierge greets me with that familiar, warm smile as I head up the stairs. The moment I step through my door, I kick off my heels in the entryway and exhale. Home. Finally.

I’m drained. All I want is a shower, then to crawl into bed and sleep until the world forgets me.

In the bathroom, I twist the faucet and let the cool water wash over me. I’ve always preferred cold showers, unless the weather is absolutely freezing, you won’t catch me turning on the hot tap. My hair is in a loose bun, and as I step under the showerhead, the day slides off me, stress, sweat, that faint smell of printer ink. Vanilla-scented body wash swirls down the drain, leaving my skin soft, clean, and a little indulgent.

Wrapped in my robe, I pad barefoot into the kitchen.

I live in a modern apartment, bright and white-themed. The kitchen opens straight into a cozy living room, while to the left, a narrow hallway leads to my bedroom. My room is simple and warm, a huge bed centered in the space, a few wall aesthetics, and a small bedside table with a mirror setup. To the right, my dresser sits just beside my private bathroom. There’s a small balcony off the bedroom, and between the kitchen and my room is a laundry nook. I pay extra for this privacy; I don’t enjoy sharing washing machines downstairs.

Too tired to whip up anything elaborate, I put together a quick meal: avocado toast with a hint of chili flakes and thin slices of turkey breast. I pour myself a generous glass of white wine, in my favorite oversized glass, and call it dinner.

A few minutes later, I’m curled up on the couch, legs folded beneath me, watching Harry Potter and the Half‑Blood Prince. The soft glow fills my living room as I wait to drift off. The opening music makes me feel like a kid again, safe, far away from the real world.

My phone buzzes against the coffee table.

Once.

Twice.

A text is lighting up the screen.

Who’s texting me at this ridiculous hour? It’s only 9 p.m., but I’m spent, and anyone who knows me knows better than to disturb me this late.

I pick up my phone and glance at the lock screen. A message.

“Hey, pretty.”

Seriously? Who even starts a conversation like that anymore? Who texts without getting straight to the point?

I sigh, toss the phone back onto the table, and turn my attention back to the movie. Before long, my eyes grow heavy, and sleep finally sweeps me away.

Benjamins POV

I’m scrolling through old marketing campaigns for the company, and honestly? They’re not bad. Some are even clever. But none of them feel like me, and there’s no way I’m putting anything that doesn’t spark my vision on my socials. I lean back in my chair, rubbing at my temples, the glow of the screen making my eyes ache.

I don’t even notice how late it’s gotten until my phone buzzes. Grandma.

You’ve done enough for one day, go home, she tells me in her usual soft but boss‑like tone.

I sigh, shutting my laptop. She’s right. I gather my things slowly, my mind still spinning with ideas… and then, almost without thinking, I pick up my phone and type out a quick message to Daphne: Hi, pretty.

My thumb hesitates over the send button for a second. Should I? Then I roll my eyes at myself. Just do it.

Sent.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and head out.

Downstairs, the receptionist is still sitting at her desk, a lone figure under the bright reception lights.

“You’re still here?” I ask, slowing my steps.

“Yeah,” she says with a tired smile, “I had some things to finish. Plus, I’m not supposed to leave until everyone else is gone, just in case someone needs anything.”

A flicker of irritation rises in my chest. That’s not right. No one should be stuck waiting around this late, not in this place.

I make a mental note to bring it up with Grandma tomorrow.

“You can go home,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice gentle. “You shouldn’t have to stay this late just waiting on people.”

She nods, relief softening her features as she packs up. We ride the elevator down in silence, both too tired to fill it.

“Goodnight,” I say as we step out into the cool night air.

“Goodnight,” she echoes, heading in the opposite direction.

The drive home is easy, the streets calm. My thoughts wander as the city lights blur past, that text… will she even reply? I shake my head. Doesn’t matter. At least she knows I’m thinking about her. Will she figure out it's me?

I make it home in ten minutes flat. By the time I step inside, I’m already tugging off my T‑shirt and kicking off my shoes in the hallway, too exhausted to care where they land.

“That tired?” Sadie calls from the couch, amusement in her voice.

“More like exhausted,” I mumble, letting the door click shut behind me.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly, and I know she means it, not just for the exhaustion but for everything lately.

“It’s fine,” I answer automatically, and then I drop onto the couch beside her, letting my head rest against her thighs. The weight of the day starts to slip off me bit by bit.

“How are you holding up? How was your day?” I ask, looking up at her.

“Same as always. Just… taking it one step at a time.” Her voice carries that mix of sadness and quiet strength.

Sadie’s my best friend, but right now she’s also my safe haven. She’s been through hell lately, five years with someone who just… walked away. Claimed he wanted to “experience something new.” I still want to punch the guy. She left him the apartment and all their shared spaces, needing distance from the memories. And until she finds her own place, she’s here. With me.

“Go shower,” she teases suddenly, wrinkling her nose. “You stink.”

We both laugh, the sound easing the heaviness in the room.

“Freshen up and get back out here. I made dinner. Your favorite.”

“Wait, baked cheese on pasta and chicken?” I ask, already feeling my mood lift.

“Yes.” She grins, proud of herself.

“I love you,” I blurt out, smiling despite the fatigue.

“Of course, you do,” she fires back, shaking her head with a soft laugh.

I drag myself off the couch, giving Sadie’s thigh a gentle tap as I stand.

“Fine, fine,” I mutter, grabbing a fresh T‑shirt and shorts from my room. If pasta and chicken are waiting, the least I can do is not smell like a twelve‑hour workday.

The bathroom tiles are cool under my feet, and I let the water run until it’s just right, lukewarm, not too hot. Steam curls in the air as I step under the spray, closing my eyes while the water pounds against my shoulders.

God, that feels good.

When I step out, the mirror is fogged, and my skin feels new again. I towel off quickly, pulling on the soft T‑shirt and shorts, running a hand through my damp hair. Much better. At least Sadie won’t threaten to Lysol me now.

Back in the living room, the rich, cheesy smell of dinner hits me before I even round the corner. My stomach tightens in gratitude.

“You didn’t have to go all out,” I say, dropping onto the couch again.

“Shut up and eat,” Sadie replies, sliding a plate toward me.

My mouth waters instantly. I don’t deserve a friend like this, not after leaving her to heal here while I run around chasing my own chaos.

I grab a fork, twisting it into the pasta, and the first bite is magic, creamy, spicy, exactly the comfort I didn’t know I needed.

“Damn, Sadie,” I say through a mouthful, “this is so good.”

“I know,” she smirks, sipping her wine.

“You won’t believe who I met today,” I start up a conversation.

“Who?”

“Guess,” I urge her.

“You know I can’t just drop it. Who was it, Ben?”

“The woman from Saturday night,” I admit.

“What? Oh my God, the universe loves you!”

“I know, right? Turns out she works at my grandma’s company, she’s actually the head of the creative department,” I explain.

“Wow… did you two talk?”

“Not at first. She pretended not to know me twice. Then, when I finally approached her, she basically told me never to bring it up again, or even get too close. As far as she’s concerned, we don’t know each other at all.”

“I mean, I can see where she’s coming from. To her, it wasn’t exactly what it was to you,” Sadie says gently.

“Yeah, I get that.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” she murmurs.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I shrug, though my chest feels heavier than I let on.

“Did you at least get her name?”

“Daphne. Her name is Daphne. I… may have even grabbed her number from Grandma’s phone,” I add in a low voice.

“Ben, please tell me you’re not about to do something stupid with it.”

“I already sent her a text. She didn’t reply.”

“Ben, that’s way too soon. She literally told you to leave her alone.”

“I can’t, Sadie. I’ve been thinking about her all weekend. Then fate literally drops her in front of me, and you expect me to just let that go?”

“Let me see what you sent her.”

I unlock my phone and hand it over.

She reads it, eyebrows climbing. “And you thought she’d reply to this? If I got that message from an unknown number, I wouldn’t respond either.”

“Why not?”

“Ben, it sounds like it’s from a creep. Especially since it came from someone she doesn’t have saved.”

“Oh.” It’s all I can manage, a flush creeping up my neck.

We chat a little more, lighter stuff this time, Sadie telling me about a random t****k she saw, me half‑listening but nodding along. My mind isn’t really here. It keeps circling back to Daphne’s face in that office today, that look of absolute calm when she brushed me off, like nothing happened, like I was invisible.

I tell myself it shouldn’t bother me. I mean, it was just a night. Just a wild, messy night. But then why does it feel like it’s lodged somewhere under my ribs, refusing to let go?

I push myself up from the couch, running a hand over my face. “I’m heading to bed. Tomorrow’s gonna be better. Fresh start.”

“Good night, Sade,” I say softly.

“Good night, baby,” she answers, giving me a small smile that feels like a hug.

I close my bedroom door and fall onto my bed like my body’s given up for the day. The sheets are cool against my skin, but my head’s still warm, buzzing with everything I don’t want to think about. Her laugh in the club, the way she’d leaned in so close, the weight of her legs around my waist in that locked‑off bathroom… and then, the coldness in her eyes today.

I stare at the ceiling, exhaling slowly. Maybe Sadie’s right. Maybe I need to back off. But then I remember how fate played its card today, how impossible it feels that she’s right there in my orbit now.

How am I supposed to just forget that?

My eyelids grow heavy, her name looping through my mind like a whisper I can’t shut off.

Daphne.

Her face drifts with me into the dark, and even as sleep finally takes me, I know I’ll see her again, one way or another.