Chapter 2

2

She still didn't say anything.

"Were you waiting for him?"

"No!"

She snapped her head up, her voice frantic.

"It’s not what you think, Ethan. Honestly, I just made a stupid mistake. I had too much to drink..."

"Too much to drink?"

"Yes! We just had some wine..."

The bedroom door clicked open.

The boy walked out, his sneakers squeaking softly on the floor.

He had changed into a fresh white T-shirt and jeans, and he had quickly run a hand through his hair.

He looked much more put-together than he had minutes ago.

But he couldn't hide the mark on his neck.

A hickey.

It was fresh, a dark purplish-red bruise sitting right below his collarbone.

He walked over to her side, stood tall, and looked at me.

His attitude had completely changed. Earlier, he couldn't even look me in the eye. Now, he glared straight at me, his jaw set in a stubborn, defiant line.

"I love her," he said.

I just stared at him.

"I love her more than you do," he added. His voice wasn't loud, but it was crystal clear. "Our feelings are real."

"Shut up!" Chloe whipped around, glaring at him. "Don't say another word!"

He blinked, startled, then reached out to wrap his arm around her waist.

"That's not what you said earlier. You said you were going to marry me."

She shoved his hand away and took a step back.

He stood frozen, his face turning stiff.

I looked at him, then back at her.

She avoided my eyes entirely, staring at the floor while nervously tugging at the hem of her dress.

He stood there, biting his lip, his eyes starting to well up with tears.

"Do you even know who she is?" I asked the kid. "Did you know she has a boyfriend of eight years?"

"Yeah, I knew," he said, lifting his chin defiantly.

I was taken aback.

"She told me. She said you guys had been together a long time." He paused, glancing at her, but she kept her head down. "But she also said the spark between you two died a long time ago."

He kept going, his words coming faster now.

"She said you suffocate her. You control everything she does. She has to tell you where she is every second of the day, and she can't even breathe. She said being with me is the only time she feels relaxed, free, and like herself."

I stood frozen in place.

So, me asking if she made it home safe was "controlling."

Me waiting up to have dinner with her was "making her report to me."

Me caring about whether she was working herself to exhaustion was "suffocating her."

All this time, I thought I was loving her.

To her, it was just a nuisance.

"She said you’re always nagging her," he added, a hint of smugness creeping into his teary voice. "Nagging her to stop eating takeout, nagging her to sleep early, nagging her whenever she doesn't reply to your texts fast enough. She said she couldn't take it anymore."

I looked at Chloe.

She kept her head down, refusing to look at me, and refusing to look at him.

"Is that true?" I asked.

Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

"Chloe," I called her name.

She finally looked up and met my eyes. Just for a split second, and then she looked away again.

But I read that look perfectly.

It was true.

Every single word of it was true.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me, starting from the soles of my feet and rushing to my chest. My legs felt weak, but I refused to sit down. I wouldn't let myself look defeated in front of them.

I took a deep, shaky breath.

"Fine. We're done."

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