Chapter 5

My dad remained quiet, just looking at me.

"Lucas, what do you want to do?"

What did I want to do?

I thought of the Amazon orders, the downtown address, the name Tristan.

I thought of her excuses of working late, her "meetings," her complaints about being too tired.

"Dad, I need to confirm one more thing."

"What is it?"

I got up, walked into the study, and brought out the iPad.

I opened the pending orders and handed it to my dad.

My dad looked at the screen, his eyebrows knitting together.

My mom leaned in to look. When she finished reading, she looked up at me, her eyes red.

"That's not our address."

"And those things aren't for you."

The living room fell into a heavy silence.

My mom wiped a tear from her cheek, and my dad stood in silence for what felt like an eternity.

"What's your plan?" my dad asked.

I looked at him, then at my mom.

"I want to wait for her to come back."

"I want to hear what she has to say."

"What is there left to say?" My mom sobbed, wiping her tears. "The proof is right here. What could she possibly explain?"

"Mom, I want to hear it from her own mouth."

My dad patted my mom on the shoulder. "Let him handle it."

My mom wanted to argue, but my dad gently pulled her back. He looked at me and said:

"Call us whenever you need us, Lucas. No matter how late."

"I know, Dad."

"We'll head out first."

"Okay."

As they walked to the door, my mom turned back and hugged me tightly. She squeezed me so hard I could barely breathe.

"Lucas, I can stay here with you."

"No, Mom, it's fine. Go home. I need some time alone."

She let go of me, stared at my face for a long moment, sighed, and walked out with my dad.

The door clicked shut, and the apartment fell silent again.

Chloe didn't come back that night.

I sent her a text: Come back. We need to talk.

She didn't reply.

I sat there all night, staring at the wedding flyers, staring at the things that were supposed to belong to our future.

When dawn broke, the lock clicked.

I looked up and saw Chloe walking through the door.

She froze when she saw me sitting on the couch. Then she avoided my gaze and walked straight toward the bedroom.

I stood up and followed her.

She opened the closet, pulled out a suitcase, unzipped it, and started packing her clothes.

Her t-shirts, her blouses, her coats.

The clothes I had thrown onto the bed the night before—she began folding them one by one, putting them into the suitcase.

"Chloe."

She didn't stop.

"Chloe, look at me."

She kept folding.

I walked over and grabbed her wrist. She shook me off and continued packing.

"We need some space for a few days," she said, keeping her eyes glued to the suitcase.

"I’m going to stay at a friend's place. We both need to calm down."

I looked at her, at her hands, at the clothes she was folding so meticulously.

"A few days?" I asked.

"Just a few days."

"And then what?"

She looked up at me.

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but she swallowed it back.

"Chloe," I said. "We don't need a few days."

She stared at me.

"Let's just break up."

Her hands paused for a fraction of a second, then went right back to folding.

"Lucas, don't be dramatic."

"I just thought the wedding was too expensive, and I wanted to save some money. Is that really worth ending things over?"

I let out a dry laugh.

"Save money?"

"Yes."

"For whom?"

She didn't answer.

"For that guy Tristan?"

"Buying him a gaming laptop, a designer watch? Booking fancy dinners and movie tickets? Are those the savings you were talking about?"