“Kept saying labels were restrictive.”
“Meanwhile, he was seeing Chloe.”
“Sarah found out through the engagement post.”
That image hurt in a distant, strange way.
Not because I wanted Sarah.
Because I knew the sensation of discovering your place in someone else’s story was not what you believed.
“She’s telling people he used her.”
Dave said.
“For what?”
“Contacts.”
“Introductions.”
“She connected him to two agencies.”
“Helped him get gallery space.”
“Did editing on one of his projects without credit.”
“Then when Chloe’s family connections opened bigger doors.”
“He basically vanished.”
I looked at the table.
The symmetry was obvious.
Too obvious.
Life rarely delivers irony with that much precision.
I expected satisfaction.
Instead, I felt tired.
“Is she okay?”
Dave looked surprised.
“I don’t know.”
“Her family’s around.”
“Melissa’s checking on her.”
“Good.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“I figured you’d enjoy it a little.”
I considered.
“Maybe I would’ve four months ago.”
“And now?”
“It isn’t my problem.”
That sentence felt better than revenge would have.
I meant it.
For seven days.
Then Sarah texted.
New number.
Hey.
Hope you’re doing well.
I stared at the screen.
Deleted it.
Three days later:
I’ve been thinking about you.
Deleted.
Then:
I know I have no right to ask, but could we talk?
Deleted.
The calls began.
No answer.
Voicemails.
At first short.
Then longer.
“Mark, it’s me.”
“I know you probably hate me.”
“I just want to apologize.”
Then:
“I understand now.”
That one irritated me.
Then:
“Alex wasn’t who I thought.”
“I made a terrible mistake.”
Then:
“I miss talking to you.”
Then:
“I miss our home.”
Our home.
Interesting phrase.
When Sarah left me, our home had been stagnant.
Boring.
Safe in the wrong way.
Now it was home again.
I did not respond.
Melissa called next.
I was expecting a client.
“Mark?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s Melissa.”
I almost hung up.
“I’m not trying to cause drama.”
“Then this call has a strong opening problem.”
She sighed.
“Sarah is not doing well.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She needs somebody stable.”
I actually closed my eyes.
“Melissa.”
“Please.”
“I know what she did was awful.”
“I told her that.”
“But she’s spiraling.”
“Not sleeping.”
“Barely eating.”
“She lost two clients.”
“Her confidence is destroyed.”
“You were always the person who could calm her down.”
That sentence revealed everything.
Not Mark the man.
Not Mark the partner.
The function.
Calm Sarah.