Q3
11:59 AM & d
cinan. Late, why arent you nome?
Ethan: Why is the house so empty? Where did you put everything?)
Ethan: When are you coming back? Where did you go?)
Ethan: Why is the wedding dress in the closet shredded? What’s that supposed to mean?]
Ethan: […]
Ethan: [Cate, we’re just having a misunderstanding. Pick up the phone.]
I skimmed through his messages, emotionless. My reply was simple.
Catherine: [Ethan, we’re done.]
The screen instantly lit up with more frantic texts, one after another. Before I could read them, a voice broke through my
thoughts, calm and warm.
“You must be Catherine Gale. Professor Lewis sent me to pick you up.”
Startled, I looked up to see a man with a composed elegance, his features softened by a friendly smile.
Before I could respond, he took the suitcase from my hand with ease. “I’m Adrian Clarke,” he said, introducing himself with the same polite demeanor. “I suppose you could call me your senior.”
Still processing the sudden kindness, I followed him out of the terminal, keeping my head low just long enough to block and delete Ethan’s account from every platform.
Adrian helped me find a place to live, even taking the time to buy essentials for the apartment. By the time everything was settled, it was late into the night.
I lay on my new bed, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, a strange mixture of exhaustion and relief washing over me. Yet, it all felt surreal.
Just as I was drifting into a haze of sleep, my phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number.
I hesitated before answering.
The moment I picked up, Ethan’s furious voice burst through the line.
“Catherine, why are you throwing a tantrum all of a sudden?”
“I’ve told you a million times that I only see Nessa as a sister. Are you seriously jealous over that?”
“You’re really breaking up with me over something so trivial?”
“I don’t understand you anymore. When did you become so petty and unreasonable?”
And then, with a venomous tone, he added, “If I had known you’d turn into this kind of person, I never would’ve gotten involved with you in the first place.”
The words sliced through the air, growing sharper as he spoke.
And then, the blow that struck deeper than any other, “Honestly, it’s no wonder your parents didn’t want you when they divorced. I finally get it now.”
The line went silent for a moment, his cruel words still hanging in the air.
My parents‘ divorce had always been a raw wound, a source of deep insecurity I rarely spoke about. Ethan knew how much it hurt me, and once upon a time, he’d held me close, vowing to love me unconditionally.
Now, he was wielding that pain against me like a weapon.
The deepest wounds would only come from the people I trusted most.
But this time, his words didn’t sting like they once would have. The wound had been reopened so many times it had already hardened into a scar.
On the other end of the call, Ethan’s breathing grew uneven, as if he’d finally realized he’d crossed a line.
But it didn’t matter anymore. I had nothing left to give.
“We’re done, Ethan,” I said evenly, my voice devoid of emotion.
I was tired of the jealousy, the constant suspicion, and the endless competition with other women for his attention.
It was time to focus on myself and live for me.
There was a long, suffocating silence on the line.
Just as I was about to hang up, Ethan suddenly laughed, a low, self–assured sound that grated on my nerves.
11:59 A
“Catherine, are you sure you want to end this? Think about it. Your friends and family all know about our engagement. The wedding’s been in the works for months. Are you really willing to throw all of that away?”
I sighed, a bitter smile forming on my lips.
He was right. Seven years of love, and a wedding I had painstakingly planned. How could I let go so easily?
Upon sensing hesitation, Ethan’s voice softened, as if soothing a petulant child. “Cate, stop being ridiculous. I’ve already told you that I’ll make up for missing the engagement party. The wedding will go on as planned. What more do you want?”
1
I let out a faint laugh, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all.
How had I spent seven years with this man?
Before I could respond, a saccharine voice chimed in from his side of the call.
short!”
sony ces? How could you mess this up? I told you, the overnight ones. These are way too
The teasing tone was laced with coquettish charm.
Ethan’s attention immediately shifted. His voice softened in a way it never did with me.
“Nessa, why are you walking around barefoot again? It’s cold. Your stomach’s going to hurt.”
The exchange felt surreal, a twisted echo of a memory from years ago.
I remembered the early days of our relationship, when I’d be doubled over in pain from cramps. Ethan would stay up all night, massaging my stomach and making me cups of brown sugar tea.
His eyes had glistened with tears as he whispered, “Cate, I wish I could take the pain for you.”
He’d promised, “I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.”
Jill
Now, that same man was fussing over another woman in the same tender tone, oblivious to the heartbreak he was leaving
behind.
I cleared my throat, cutting through their conversation.
“I’m serious, Ethan. We’re done. Your mother’s bracelet is in the study drawer, along with a little something extra. Goodbye.”
What I didn’t tell him was that the “something extra” was the pink lace lingerie I’d found stuffed between the couch cushions, the lingerie that reeked of the same perfume clinging to his suit that night.
I didn’t want a messy, public breakup. Hopefully, once he saw that, he’d finally leave me alone.
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line as Ethan seemed to piece everything together.
“Cate, wait, I…”
I hung up before he could finish.
After a moment’s thought, I blocked him on every platform and deleted every way he could reach me.
That night, I slept better than I had in years.
In my dreams, I saw a younger version of myself, sitting at her desk and writing in her diary. Her face glowed with happiness as she scribbled down memories, most of them about Ethan.
“I’d say yes if Ethan proposed with a soda can tab,” one entry read.
“Ethan promised to bring me breakfast today, but he overslept again. Such a dummy,” read another.
“He’s been working so hard lately. I wish I could take care of him better,” and, “When we’re married, I’ll make him home–cooked
meals every day.”
I silently watched as she filled page after page with hope and love, never once imagining they would part ways.
But near the end of the diary, the entries grew more somber.
The day before the engagement party, she wrote, “Maybe things will go back to how they used to be after we’re married.”
Her eyes had been full of desperation, clinging to the belief that things could still be salvaged.
Even in my dream, I wanted to reach out and wipe away her tears.
Love, however deep it once was, could fade as quickly as it bloomed.
B
What once seemed so perfect may have been an illusion all along, or perhaps, someone’s heart had quietly changed.
But none of that mattered anymore. True love was as fleeting as it was unpredictable.
