After His Affair with Serenity, I Walked Away

It was late on a Tuesday night. I was sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed I shared with Dane. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner. I was scrolling through Instagram, killing time before sleep. Then I saw it.

Carter Flynn had posted a new story. Carter was Dane’s best friend and his favorite alibi. The location tag at the top of the screen read 'London'. Dane had told me he was in Chicago for a real estate conference.

I tapped the screen to pause the video. The lighting was dim and romantic. It was an upscale restaurant with thick candles melting on the tables. Dane was sitting in a velvet booth. His arm was wrapped tightly around Serenity Flores.

Serenity. His first love. The girl who left him for a study-abroad program and never really let him go. She looked beautiful. Her dark hair was styled perfectly, falling over her shoulders. She was laughing at something Dane said. On the table in front of them was a birthday cake. The name 'Serenity' was written in elegant chocolate icing.

But it was Dane’s face that held my attention. He was smiling. It was a wide, boyish, relaxed smile. I hadn't seen that smile in over a year. He looked at her like she was the center of the universe. He never looked at me like that.

I stared at the screen until the brightness timer kicked in. The screen dimmed, then went completely black. I saw my own face reflected in the dark glass. I looked pale. I waited for the familiar sting of tears. I waited for the heavy weight in my chest, the urge to cry and scream.

It didn't come.

Instead, a cold, sharp clarity washed over me. For two years, I had been the placeholder. I bent over backward to keep him happy. I memorized his coffee orders. I softened my voice when he was stressed. I swallowed my own needs so he wouldn't feel crowded. I thought if I just loved him hard enough, he would finally choose me.

He was never going to choose me.

I put the phone down. I stood up. I didn't slam any doors. I walked to the closet and pulled out my navy duffel bag. Moving with quiet efficiency, I started to pack. I didn't take everything. Just the essentials. My jeans, my sweaters, my leather notebook. I grabbed my migraine medication from the nightstand. I walked over to my dresser and picked up the framed photo of me and my best friend, Hayley, from our college graduation. I slipped it into the bag.

I looked at Dane’s side of the room. His expensive watches lined the glass case. His designer cologne sat perfectly angled on the silver tray. I left it all untouched.

I zipped the bag shut. I carried it out to the living room. The marble countertops in the kitchen caught the city lights from the window. I