New year, New man... me

Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Quiet Goodbye

(Tessy’s POV)

I’m not sure how long I stand on that balcony. Fireworks keep bursting overhead, filling the sky with streaks of gold, red, and blue. The crowd behind me cheers with every explosion, each pop and crackle blending into the next. But I don’t hear them anymore.

The cold air bites at my cheeks, but I don’t feel that either. My fingers are numb, my heart even more so. I stare out at the sky, my mind replaying the scene from the hallway like a broken record. Jack. The woman in red. His voice — smooth, calm, like he hadn’t been caught in the act.

“Don’t make this a big thing, Tess.”

I blink, sucking in a sharp breath through my nose. My eyes sting, but I won’t cry. Not here. Not tonight. I wrap my arms around myself, squeezing tightly as if I can hold the pieces of me together.

I hear footsteps behind me. The familiar, steady thud of Jack’s approach.

“Tess,” he says softly, his voice just behind me. Too close. “Come on, babe. Let’s go inside, yeah? It’s freezing out here.”

I clench my jaw. I can feel the heat of his presence at my back. For a second, I almost turn. For a second, I think maybe I should listen to him. Maybe I’m making too much of this. Maybe it was just a conversation —

No.

I close my eyes, my breath fogging in front of me as I exhale slowly. Don’t do it, Tess. Don’t you dare.

“You’re quiet,” Jack says, like I’m supposed to laugh or blush. Like I’m supposed to play along. His tone is gentle, like I’m a child he’s trying to calm down. “You’re mad, huh?” He chuckles under his breath. “You always get this quiet when you’re mad.”

“Stop talking, Jack.” My voice comes out colder than the winter air.

He’s quiet for a moment. I hear him shift behind me, his shoes scuffing against the concrete. "You’re being dramatic," he says, his voice harder now, less careful.

My chest tightens. My fingers curl into fists at my sides. I turn slowly, meeting his eyes for the first time since I saw him with that woman. His face is all smooth confidence, like he still thinks he can charm his way out of this.

"You think I’m being dramatic?" I ask, my voice low and even. I tilt my head, my eyes locked on his like I’m daring him to say it again.

Jack raises his hands like I’m the unreasonable one. "Yeah, I do. You saw me talking to someone, Tess. That’s it. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” He steps forward, his voice softening again. “Come on, baby. It’s New Year’s. Don’t ruin the night over nothing.”

I stare at him, and I wonder how long I’ve been blind. How many times I’ve ignored this version of him — the one that gaslights me, twists reality until I’m not even sure what’s true anymore.

I glance past him toward the party still raging behind us. People are laughing, dancing, caught up in their perfect, glittering moment. They look happy. They look free.

I want that.

I want that more than I want Jack.

“You’re right,” I say suddenly, my voice calm.

Jack blinks, surprised. “Wait, what?”

“You’re right,” I repeat, nodding. I fold my arms, letting my shoulders relax. "I’m not going to ruin the night.” I step past him, walking slowly, deliberately. My heart hammers in my chest, but my face stays steady.

“Yeah, that’s more like it,” Jack says behind me, his voice smug. “I knew you’d come around.”

I keep walking. My steps feel lighter than they have in years.

—

The ride home is silent. Jack tries to turn on the radio, but I click it off. He glances at me but doesn’t say anything. I stare out the window, watching the city lights streak past in a blur of white, red, and gold.

When we pull up to the apartment, he parks in the usual spot and turns off the engine. He sits there for a moment, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. I know him well enough to recognize the signs — he’s waiting for me to "move past it." Waiting for me to give him a sign that everything’s okay.

But everything’s not okay.

I step out of the car, not waiting for him, and head inside. The air inside the apartment feels too warm, too still, like the silence after a storm. I walk straight to the bedroom, slipping off my coat and hanging it on the hook by the door. Jack follows a minute later, kicking off his shoes with a sigh.

“You good now?” he asks casually as he walks into the kitchen. I hear the clink of a glass, the rush of water from the faucet. He’s so comfortable. So sure of himself.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands resting on my lap. My fingers brush over my stomach, the tiny life growing inside me. The only part of him I can’t walk away from. But I don’t have to stay for him.

I glance at my nightstand. The drawer where I keep everything important — my passport, the savings I’ve been setting aside. My exit plan. I didn’t think I’d need it so soon, but maybe that’s how it always goes. You never think it’s time until it is.

Jack walks into the room, glass of water in hand. He drinks slowly, leaning against the wall like he owns the world. Like he owns me.

“Don’t stay mad, babe,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I said I’m sorry, didn’t I?”

“No,” I reply quietly, lifting my eyes to meet his. “You didn’t.”

He frowns, pushing off the wall. “What are you talking about?”

“You never apologized,” I say slowly, standing up. My voice is steady now, clearer than it’s been in months. “You never do. You just wait for me to forget.” I take a step forward. He watches me, his frown deepening.

“Tess—”

“No,” I say, cutting him off. I shake my head, my heart pounding so hard I feel it in my ears. “Not this time, Jack. I’m done.”

His eyes narrow. His jaw tightens. "What do you mean, 'done'?”

“I mean, I’m done with you,” I say, the words tasting like steel on my tongue. “I’m done pretending you’ll change. I’m done waiting for you to be the man you keep promising to be.”

He steps forward, his eyes sharp, dangerous. “Watch what you’re saying, Tess.”

“Or what?” I raise my chin, standing my ground. “You’ll lie to me some more? Gaslight me until I forget how it felt to watch you with her?” I point toward the door like she’s still there.

Jack’s face twists into something cold. "You’re really doing this now?" His voice drops low, dangerous.

"Yeah," I say, nodding slowly. "I am."

I turn away from him, walking to the closet. I grab my suitcase from the top shelf, yanking it down so hard it thuds onto the floor. The sound is final.

Jack moves fast, grabbing my wrist before I can unzip it. His grip is tight, too tight. I look up at him, and for the first time, I’m not afraid.

“Let me go, Jack,” I say slowly, my eyes locked on his.

He stares at me, his jaw clenched, his breathing hard. For a moment, I think he’ll squeeze tighter. But then, like a thread snapping, he lets go.

"Fine," he says, backing away with his hands up. His eyes stay on me, cold, calculating. “You wanna leave? Go. But don’t think for a second you’re better off without me.”

I kneel, unzipping the suitcase with a steady hand. My heart is steady too. For once, I know exactly what I’m doing.

“You’ll see, Tess,” Jack mutters from the doorway, his voice sharp as broken glass. “You’ll be back.”

I fold a shirt, laying it neatly into the suitcase. I don’t look up. I don’t respond.

I’m done giving him the satisfaction of thinking he still has power over me.