Chapter 4

Right after sending the text, I powered off my phone.

As the plane lifted into the clouds, I watched the sprawling skyline shrink beneath the wing, feeling completely calm.

There was no gut-wrenching agony, just a quiet sense of finality.

After seven years, I had finally learned how to let go.

When I arrived back at my parents' house in our small coastal town, my mom had already set the dinner table with all my favorite dishes.

My dad took my suitcase. He didn't ask a single question, only clapped a heavy, reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Good to have you home, son."

Life in this small town moved at a slow, gentle pace—a stark contrast to the relentless grind of the city.

I started helping my parents run our independent bookstore, occasionally posting book reviews and essays online.

No endless board meetings. No midnight networking dinners soaked in alcohol. No frantic slack pings that demanded an immediate reply.

It felt like reconnecting with the Ethan Vance who had just entered college—the version of me before I ever crossed paths with Clara.

A month of peaceful days slipped by, until one rainy afternoon. I was restocking the shelves when the chime above the door jingled.

"Welcome in," I said without looking up.

No footsteps followed.

Curious, I lifted my eyes and collided with a familiar gaze.

Clara stood by the entrance, drenched in rain, dark purple shadows hanging heavily under her eyes.

"Ethan..." Her voice was hoarse. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

I set the novel down, my expression unreadable. "Ms. Vance, is there something you need?"

"Ethan, don't call me that." She stepped forward, reaching out to grab my hand, but I sidestepped cleanly out of reach.

"Ms. Vance, this is a quiet bookstore. Please don't disturb the patrons."

A couple of customers turned around, glancing at us with curiosity.

Clara took a sharp breath, lowering her voice. "Can we talk? Please?"

I gave the cashier a quick nod to watch the front, then led her through the back door into the private courtyard.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Why did you leave?" She searched my face, a defensive edge creeping into her tone. "Why didn't you say goodbye?"

A dry chuckle escaped my throat.

"Ms. Vance, I submitted my formal resignation, and I sent you a breakup text. How is that leaving without saying goodbye?"

"I never agreed to it!" she flared up suddenly, her composure cracking. "I never agreed to break up!"

"Ethan, I know you're mad because I neglected you. But we just went public, I was drowning in work..."

The same recycled excuses.

I cut her off. "Clara, does Julian know you're here?"

She froze, her eyes darting away. "Why are you bringing him up?"

"Aren't you supposed to be engaged to him? Running off to find your ex doesn't look very good, does it?"

"Who told you that?" She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist tightly. "Did Julian say something to you? He's lying! It's all bullshit!"

I wrenched my hand free and looked at her with pure indifference.

"Clara, I'm not blind, and I'm not stupid. He sent me all the photos of you two years ago."

"Five years. You kept seeing him behind my back for five whole years. And like a pathetic idiot, I actually believed you were out closing deals on those business trips."

Every drop of color drained from her face.

"Ethan, let me explain..."

"Explain what? Explain how you lived with me while taking annual vacations to Europe with your ex?"

"Explain how you told me you didn't believe in marriage while secretly picking out a ring to propose to another man?"

Watching her panic, I felt only a hollow numbness inside.

"Clara, for seven years, I gave you countless chances. I kept telling myself that if I just worked harder, if I just loved you better, you'd finally see me."

"Now I understand. It wasn't that you couldn't see me. You just never cared to look."

She shook her head violently, tears spilling over her lashes. "No, Ethan, that's not true! I love you!"

"Love?" I scoffed softly. "Your love meant keeping me hidden as your assistant? Never introducing me to your parents? And the very day we went public, you blocked me on Instagram just to hard-launch your romance with another guy?"

Clara stood paralyzed. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

"How... how did you know about that?"

"Your account was still logged in on my laptop," I said quietly. "I watched you type it."

"Clara, we're done. Go back to your life, and don't come here again."

I turned toward the door, but two arms wrapped desperately around my waist from behind.

"No, I'm not leaving! Ethan, give me one more chance, I'm begging you..."

Her tears soaked through the back of my cotton shirt, scalding against my skin.

Once upon a time, I would have given anything for her embrace.

Now, it only felt suffocating.

I pried her fingers off one by one, stepping away without looking back.

"Goodbye, Ms. Vance."