Chapter 4

The next morning, I started packing.

I'd lived in that apartment with Corbin for almost two years, yet everything that belonged solely to me fit into two suitcases and a backpack.

Most of the space had been taken up by things I'd bought for everyone else.

I cleared my clothes from the closet, packed my textbooks, and took down the photos on my side of the bedroom.

On the refrigerator was the weekly schedule I'd maintained for years.

Corbin's allergy appointment. Davis's insurance renewal. Seth's dentist appointment. Mira's scholarship paperwork.

The last reminder had been added just three weeks ago, when Mira moved in.

Corbin had asked me to keep track of her appointments because she was overwhelmed.

I pulled the schedule off the refrigerator and threw it away.

My phone had been buzzing all morning.

Davis: Did you ever finish looking at apartments?

Seth: I can't find the folder with my enrollment documents. Did you move it?

Mira: Brenna, could you come with me to the bank tomorrow? I've never opened an account in another state before.

Then Corbin called.

"Are you seriously ignoring everyone?"

I put him on speaker and continued folding my clothes.

"I'm busy."

"Doing what?"

"Packing."

There was a pause.

"Packing for what?"

I looked at my open suitcase. "I'm leaving."

He let out a frustrated breath. "Brenna, if this is about yesterday, you're taking it way too far."

"I'm not talking about yesterday."

"Then what? The necklace?"

I didn't answer.

"Seriously? My mom gave Mira a graduation gift. She's had a rough few years, and Mom wanted to do something nice. Why does everything have to be a competition with you?"

"I didn't say it was."

"Then stop acting like she stole something from you."

I glanced at the ring on my finger.

It was funny how easily he could dismiss a promise when he wasn't the one losing it.

"Look," Corbin continued, "we're all moving to New York soon. Things are going to be different. You can't keep trying to manage everyone's lives. We're adults, Brenna. We don't need you supervising us."

"I know."

He went quiet. "What?"

"You're right. You can handle things yourselves."

For some reason, that only seemed to irritate him more.

"Whatever. Mira wants to go out for dinner tonight. We're meeting at seven. Just don't make everyone wait around for you again."

I zipped up my suitcase.

"I have other plans."

"Then change them."

"No—"

He ended the call.

For a long moment, I stood beside the bed, looking at the ring he'd given me.

I'd worn it every day since my twentieth birthday.

Back then, he'd slipped it onto my finger while we sat on the hood of his car, watching fireworks over the neighborhood where we'd grown up.

He'd promised we would get married someday.

I'd believed him so completely that I'd never imagined taking it off.

Now I slid it free and placed it inside a small envelope with my apartment key.

I added a note.

Corbin, our relationship is over. Please don't contact me.

There wasn't anything else to say.

I spent the next hour taking care of the practical things. I transferred my share of the rent to our landlord, removed my payment methods from the shared accounts, and canceled the automatic charges tied to my credit card.

Then I opened Splitwise.

Seven years of group expenses stared back at me.

Concert tickets. Vacation rentals. Restaurant bills. Deposits I'd paid and forgotten about.

I exported the records.

After that, I removed Corbin from my emergency contacts and turned off location sharing in Find My.

The apartment looked strangely unfamiliar without my belongings.

I left the envelope on the kitchen counter, where Corbin would see it as soon as he came home.

Around three, a black SUV pulled up outside.

The driver checked my identification against the reporting documents before helping me load my bags.

"Once we reach the facility, you'll need to surrender your personal phone," he reminded me. "You'll be given instructions about approved communications during orientation."

"Understood."

I took one last look at the apartment building.

For years, I'd imagined coming home to Corbin after work, getting married, maybe adopting a cat, and building the kind of family I'd lost when my mother died.

I used to think that future was waiting for me.

Now I knew I'd been the only one planning it.

My phone buzzed again.

Our group chat.

Davis: So who's driving tonight?

Seth: Ask Brenna.

Mira: I hope she's feeling better. I don't want her to miss dinner because of me.

Corbin: She'll come. She always does.

I stared at those four words.

She always does.

That was what he'd said in their secret chat, too.

And he was right.

For twenty years, I'd followed them everywhere, hoping that if I tried hard enough, one day we'd all make the same choice.

Suddenly, I remembered our old guessing game.

No hints. No discussions. Everyone had to make their own choice.

Somehow, I had always been the one who guessed wrong.

I opened our five-person iMessage group and scheduled a message to send at eight that evening, when they'd already be waiting for me at the restaurant.

Remember our old guessing game? We were never supposed to tell each other what we'd chosen.

For years, you four always ended up together, and I was the one left behind.

Well, I've made my choice now. This time, you four can be the ones left behind.

Have fun guessing where I've gone.

I read it over and couldn't help smiling.

For once, the thought of them not knowing the answer didn't hurt.

It was almost funny.

After twenty years of chasing after them, I was finally the one going somewhere they couldn't follow.

I confirmed the scheduled message for 8:00 p.m.

Then I turned off my phone and handed it to the driver for secure storage.

"Ready?" he asked.

I glanced at the apartment building one last time.

"Yeah."

I climbed into the back seat, and the SUV pulled away from the curb.

I didn't look back.