Chapter 2
820 Words
That night, Jason never came back to the apartment. I didn't wait for him.
I packed all his things into garbage bags and left them by the door.
We'd rented this place together, but the lease was in my name, and I'd been paying the rent all along.
He said the company was still getting off the ground, cash was tight, and asked me to cover it for now. Once we bought a place someday, my name would be on the deed.
I believed him.
I'd even let myself picture it. Once his career settled down, we'd get married. Nothing extravagant. Just him standing beside me, telling everyone in the room that he was going to marry me.
But then he got busier and busier. Meetings. Business dinners. And helping Sophie through her divorce.
My phone rang. It was the real estate agent.
"Ms. Shaw, about the studio you viewed today, the landlord's ready to sign. Do you still want it?"
"Yes."
"When would you like to move in?"
I looked around the living room. The sofa was his pick. He'd assembled the dining table himself. The curtains were ones I'd dragged him into hanging with me.
The day we moved in, he'd wrapped his arms around me from behind.
"Serena, this is our home now."
"Will you always come home?" I'd asked.
"Of course."
Now, thinking back on it, everything he'd ever said was like a check that had already expired. Perfect on paper. Worthless in hand.
I told the agent, "Tomorrow."
I'd barely hung up when I heard the lock turning. Jason was back.
The moment he stepped inside, he spotted the bags by the door. His face darkened. "What's this supposed to mean?"
"Your things. Packed and ready."
"Seriously, Serena," he said with a cold laugh. "You really have to go this far?"
"We're done."
He stopped dead. "Who agreed to that?"
I looked up at him. "A breakup doesn't need two signatures."
Jason kicked the bag aside. "Over one promotion?"
Even now, he thought I was throwing a tantrum over a job title.
He walked over and set a gift bag on the table in front of me. "This is for you."
I didn't reach for it.
"Didn't you say your laptop was getting old?" he said, with a flicker of impatience. "I had someone pick up the latest model this afternoon. I'll admit I didn't handle things well. But Sophie really did need this chance."
I stared at the gift bag and felt nothing.
There was a time a single flower from him could keep me smiling for days. Now here he was with a laptop, holding it out like a settlement payment, telling me to let it go.
"Who picked it out?" I asked.
Jason said nothing. The answer was already obvious.
"She said girls like you prefer the slim lightweight models, so she chose pink."
A laugh escaped me.
Jason frowned. "What's funny?"
"I don't like pink."
He went still.
"My last laptop was gray. My work bag is white. My phone is white. Jason, we've been together four years. You don't even know my favorite color."
The irritation on his face froze. He looked like he wanted to argue back but couldn't find the words.
A bright ringtone cut through the silence. His phone lit up. The contact name was "Sophie-Pie."
Seeing that, I suddenly thought of my own name in his phone. It had always been my full name. Serena Shaw.
I'd asked him once why he didn't save me under something more personal.
"We're adults," he'd said. "Don't be childish."
But the name he'd saved Sophie under was something you'd use to baby a child.
The phone kept ringing. Jason didn't answer it.
He flipped it face down and softened his tone. "Come in tomorrow and get the handover done properly. Sophie just took over the project and she doesn't know the workflow yet. Walk her through it."
I looked at him. "Jason, did you come back tonight to make things right with me, or to make sure I keep doing Sophie's job for her?"
A beat of silence. "Those are two different things."
"No. They're the same thing."
I pushed the gift bag back into his arms. "I don't want it."
His jaw tightened. "Serena, don't be ungrateful."
Those words finished it.
"Be out by six tomorrow evening. If you're not, I'll terminate the lease and the landlord can deal with you."
Jason stared at me, anger simmering behind his eyes. He grabbed his jacket and slammed the door on his way out.
A few minutes later, Sophie texted me.
Sophie: Serena, Mr. Grant just came to find me.
Sophie: Don't get the wrong idea. I tried to talk him into going back to you.
She'd attached a photo. Jason on her sofa, bent over to light a cigarette. The pink laptop I'd turned down sitting right beside him.
- Writer
