Chapter 3

Austin looked up at her. "Chloe, don't blame Logan. It's totally normal for him to feel hurt. I'd feel terrible if I were in his shoes too."

"Him? Hurt?"

Chloe scoffed, grabbing her jacket off the couch.

"What does he have to be upset about? The wedding is just postponed, not canceled."

"You only turn eighteen once in your life. What is he even competing with you for?"

She patted Austin's head, her voice softening into pure tenderness. "Come on, I'm taking you out to dinner."

"What about Logan?" Austin looked back at me.

"Leave him alone. Let him sit here and cool off."

Chloe tugged Austin toward the door.

The door slammed shut behind them with a loud thud.

The apartment fell dead silent.

I sat on the couch, taking in the place where I had lived for two years.

The beanbag chair in the corner of the living room was bought for her brother because he said it was comfortable to lounge in while playing games.

The collectibles on the TV console belonged to him because he thought they looked cool there.

The fridge door was covered in photobooth strips of him flashing bright, smug smiles.

I walked into the spare room, which was originally supposed to be my home office.

I pushed the door open. The setup inside was nothing like what I had envisioned.

A blue comforter was spread over the bed, anime posters he liked were plastered all over the walls, and his random gadgets cluttered the desk.

I opened the closet. Two-thirds of it was taken up by his clothes—all bought by Chloe, some with the tags still on.

I glanced through them. A single designer hoodie cost three hundred dollars; she had bought it just because he asked for it.

Last winter, I wanted to buy an eighty-dollar warm puffer coat, and she had told me it was too expensive and that I should wait for a holiday clearance sale.

Walking back into the master bedroom, I dragged out my suitcase and began packing my clothes.

Piece by piece, folded neatly, zipped inside.

It took less than an hour to pack everything that belonged to me.

On the credenza in the living room sat our framed photo, silent and still.

I hesitated for a second, then left it untouched.

I took the apartment key out of my pocket and placed it squarely on the console table by the entryway.

My phone buzzed. It was a notification from the family group chat on SnapChat. Chloe had posted a picture of her and Austin at a high-end restaurant, the table overflowing with gourmet dishes.

I knew that restaurant. It was downtown, costing nearly a hundred dollars a person. I had wanted to go for years.

I brought it up on our anniversary once, and she said it was a waste of money, dragging me to a greasy diner instead.

In the chat, her mom replied: Treating your brother to good food again. You’re such an amazing sister!

Chloe responded with a smiling emoji.

Austin sent a long string of texts: Chloe is the absolute best! She ordered all my favorites!

I didn't read any further. I slipped the phone into my pocket, grabbed my luggage, and walked out the door.

I called an Uber straight to the train station.

I bought a ticket on the way—the earliest express train heading back to my hometown. Standing room only.

It didn't matter. It was only an hour's ride.

Entering the station, clearing security, waiting at the gate.

I sat on a cold metal bench in the waiting hall as crowds bustled past and automated announcements chimed over the PA system.

My train was still twenty minutes away.

My phone screen suddenly lit up with Chloe's name.

I answered.

"Where are you?"

Her voice sounded confused, with the faint background noise of her brother laughing.

"Why are your keys on the entryway table?"

"I went home," I said.

"Home? Back to your dad's place?"

"Fine by me. Austin actually wanted to stay over at our place for a few days to hang out."

"It's good for you and Austin to spend a few days apart anyway. Less tension, fewer arguments."

She spoke so casually, as if I had moved out solely to free up space for her darling brother.

As if it were the most considerate arrangement in the world.

"Chloe, I'm never coming back. We don't need to get married anymore."