Even if I were the slowest guy on the planet, I would still get it. This was Leo Harrison taunting me on purpose. Another jab, another smug little reminder that I had been stood up yet again. 

I had already suspected he was the reason why Claire ditched our marriage appointment. But seeing Leo’s name pop up with that message? That still knocked the wind out of me. Like getting sucker-punched in the ribs. 

Claire and I grew up together. Next-door neighbors, sandbox buddies, the whole childhood-sweetheart cliche. I used to dream about marrying her before I even knew how taxes worked. 

The first time I told her, we were maybe seven, still missing teeth and fighting over crayons. Our parents thought it was adorable and laughed themselves silly over dinner. 

Back then, she treated me like I was important to her. And for a long time, I believed she felt the same. 

Then college happened. That was when she brought Leo home for the first time. “Just a classmate,” she had said. 

But something about the way they acted around each other—too comfortable, too familiar—made my stomach twist. That was when it hit me: maybe what Claire and I had wasn’t love. Not for her, anyway. 

I panicked. 

After graduation, I tried to play it cool. I joked that we should just get married and be done with it. To my surprise, our parents were all for it, thinking it was sweet. But Claire? She turned me down. Not gently either. It was a flat no, sharp as a slap. 

Still, I didn’t give up. Over the next seven or eight years, I asked her dozens of times to make it official. 

She said yes… seven times. 

But each of those seven turned into nothing. A no-show. An excuse. Radio silence. 

And like clockwork, Leo would text me right after every single one, always with just enough venom to sting. 

My phone buzzed again. 

I almost hit decline without checking, assuming it was Leo again. But when I glanced at the screen, I saw it was a friend calling. 

There was a gathering tonight, and they were inviting me out. 

I didn’t even think before blurting, “Is Claire going to be there?” 

My friend chuckled. “Don’t worry, Zach. I know the deal. I already talked to her. She said she’ll be there.” 

“Well, then count me out.” 

Silence on the other end. Like I had said something unbelievable. 

Maybe I had. 

Everyone knew me as the guy who had been hopelessly pursuing Claire for years. 

I was the one who gave her flowers at graduation like some lovesick teenager. The one who scoured job boards for roles she might like, cleaned her place, folded her laundry, and handled the housework like a loyal golden retriever. 

At one birthday party, someone joked she must have saved the world in a past life to have me this devoted. Claire just snorted and rolled her eyes. 

“He’s like a shameless maggot. Annoying as hell. Who even cares?” 

Back then, I pretended I didn’t hear it. I thought she would grow out of it. Thought she would eventually come around. 

But that was the old me. 

I cared now. 

After hanging up, I sent out a group message to all our mutual friends. 

‘From now on, if Claire’s coming to a gathering, don’t bother inviting me.’ 

I didn’t wait for replies. I ordered a cab and headed back to my apartment. 

Once I was home, I went straight to the bedroom and started packing. Every little thing of hers—gifts, books, clothes she left behind—I threw them all into a suitcase. Neat. Cold. Mechanical. 

Then I called a delivery guy. 

Just as the delivery guy rang the buzzer, my best friend Riley showed up. 

He stepped inside, took one look at the mess, and blurted out, “Wait… Zach, you’re not moving out, are you?” 

I chuckled bitterly before popping open the suitcase to show him. 

“No. This is Claire’s stuff. I’m sending it back.” 

Riley stood there for a beat, stunned. He watched the delivery guy take the suitcase and disappear down the hall before he turned back to me, his brows furrowed in disbelief. 

“Weren’t you supposed to get your marriage license with her today? What the hell—” 

But his voice trailed off halfway through. He knew. 

I didn’t have to say it. The answer was written all over my face. 

His jaw clenched. I could see the rage building in his eyes like a storm. 

“Let me guess,” he snapped. “Claire bailed again, didn’t she? And Leo’s behind it somehow. God, I knew it. No wonder you sent that message. That smug little—nope, I’m done. Come on, Zach. Let’s go talk to her. Face to face. No more of this silent suffering crap!”