Chapter 4

I leaned against the doorframe, staring at her. "Speak."

"Can I come in?"

"Talk here."

She bit her lip.

"Susan, I'm really sorry about today."

"I had no idea you’d mind this much. Phillips and I are really just friends. I just wanted to save some money."

"I feel terrible that you guys fought because of me. Please don't blame Phillips. It's all my fault."

Her eyes were red as she spoke.

As I looked at her, I noticed the zipper on her shoulder bag wasn't fully closed. A square, shiny plastic foil was peeking out.

An ultra-thin Trojan condom wrapper.

Penny noticed where my eyes were landing. She looked down at her bag and quickly zipped it shut.

A flash of panic crossed her face, but she quickly reverted to her damsel-in-distress act.

"Susan, that’s... it's not what you think. That’s mine. It has nothing to do with Phillips."

I said, "No need to explain. It has nothing to do with me."

"Are you really not mad at Phillips? Can you guys please make up? I can tell he’s really miserable."

"Phillips and I are broken up."

"He has nothing to do with me anymore. And whatever you two do has nothing to do with me either."

"Sleep together, hook up, do whatever you want. You don't need to report to me."

Penny wanted to say more, but I slammed the door in her face.

The moment the door clicked shut, I heard her let out a soft, amused chuckle on the other side.

I leaned against the door, closing my eyes.

Phillips and I had been together for three years. From sophomore year to senior year, and then our first year post-grad.

All my firsts were with him. First love, first hand-holding, first kiss, first time.

My mom had opposed the relationship from the start. She said Phillips didn't seem like a reliable guy.

But I didn't listen. I fought with my mom, packed my bags, and moved into his rented apartment.

It was a dingy semi-basement apartment that was freezing in the winter and suffocating in the summer.

We squeezed together on a small twin-size bed where even turning over required careful maneuvering.

We fought for the bathroom in the morning and fought for the hot water at night.

But I never complained once.

Later, when I got a job and started making a bit more than him, I took over the majority of the rent.

He promised me things would get better once his project took off. I told him not to rush, that we had time.

I waited three years. And what did I get?

I got him bringing Penny to share our room.

By the time I crawled into bed, it was almost midnight.

The curtains weren't fully closed, and the city lights leaked through the gap.

I stared at that sliver of light, my mind replaying scenes from the last three years.

He had pursued me for three months, waiting outside my dorm every single morning with a breakfast sandwich and a Coke.

Back then, I truly believed he was the one.

But slowly, things changed.

He started complaining that I was too controlling, too paranoid.

He claimed that going out with girls from his club was "just work," dining with female juniors was "being a supportive senior," liking girls' photos was "basic social media etiquette," and looking at other girls on the street was "just male instinct."

"You can't expect me to only have eyes for you, Susan," he had said.

He insisted I was just overthinking.

But now, I finally got it.

I wasn't overthinking. He was just constantly testing my boundaries, and I was constantly stepping back.

And when I had backed up so far that my back was against the wall, he brought another girl right into our space.

I turned over and buried my face in the pillow.

The next morning, my eyes were incredibly swollen.

I pressed a cold wet towel against them for a long time before they looked semi-normal, then put on some light makeup to cover the puffiness.

I planned to go to the beach today. Since I was already here, I wasn't going to let some guy ruin my vacation.

I changed and took the elevator down. It stopped at the ninth floor.

The doors opened, and Phillips was standing there.

He froze when he saw me, then slowly stepped inside.

We were the only two people in the elevator. The silence was suffocating.

He was wearing a white V-neck tee. The neckline was slightly stretched, and right near his collarbone on the right side of his neck, there was a glaring red mark.

A hickey.

He knew exactly what I was looking at. He nervously pulled his collar up.

"Bug bite," he said, keeping his eyes on the floor.

I let out a soft laugh.

"You don't need to explain."

"Phillips, we are broken up."

"Who you sleep with, who kisses you, or how many marks you have on your neck... none of it is my business."