Chapter 3

On the third day, my company asked me to print and sign the transfer documents.

The printer at home was broken.

I picked up the family tablet from the living room so I could send the forms to a copy shop.

The moment I unlocked it, a message appeared.

THANKSGIVING SQUAD.

Chloe had posted a crying emoji.

[Leah barely reacts anymore. This isn't fun.]

Dad replied, [Give her a couple days. Don't actually make her furious.]

Mom added, [Yeah. Last year with Grandma, she really did miss work.]

I stared at the screen.

So they knew.

I scrolled upward.

Last year, the day Grandma supposedly fell, Chloe had asked, [What time should I call her?]

Grant had replied, [Her promotion interview is at two. Call at 1:40. She'll run out without even closing her laptop.]

He'd added a smirking emoji.

My hand stopped moving.

After I missed that interview, I sat in the parking garage and cried for two hours.

Grant came to find me.

He hugged me.

He said there would be other opportunities.

He even scolded Chloe for going too far.

But he had known.

Worse, he had chosen the time.

I kept scrolling.

Two years earlier, before my competition, Chloe had asked whether using Dad's car accident would be too much.

Mom had replied, [Don't say it was serious. Just say someone rear-ended him.]

Dad had added a laughing emoji: [Let's see if she can beat her thirty-minute record.]

Then came Grant's message: [The competition venue is too close to the nearest hospital. Use North York General instead or she'll arrive in ten minutes. No fun in that.]

I sat on the couch.

Cold spread slowly through my body.

The front door opened.

Grant walked in carrying two pumpkin spice lattes.

"Didn't you say you were craving one?"

Then he saw the tablet in my hands and stopped short.

I looked up.

"You knew about Grandma too?"

The room went still.

Grant glanced at the screen.

He didn't bother pretending.

He put the drinks down.

"Leah. That group is just for jokes."

"What about the competition?"

He frowned.

"That was two years ago.

"Are you really going to dig through every single thing we've ever done?"

I almost laughed.

"You comforted me afterward."

Grant's expression shifted.

"You were sobbing. What was I supposed to do?

"And I did tell Chloe not to take it so far."

I pointed to his message about changing hospitals.

"That was you stopping her?"

He was quiet for two seconds.

Then his tone hardened.

"Fine. I didn't think that one through.

"But I was trying to get along with your family.

"Chloe likes to joke around. I can't keep ruining her fun in front of your parents every single time."

I looked at him for a long time.

"So you'd rather ruin mine."

He stared.

"Here we go again."

He rubbed his forehead.

"You and Chloe aren't the same.

"You're my girlfriend. She's just immature."

I didn't say anything else.

Everyone had a reason.

Chloe was young.

My parents wanted to keep their younger daughter happy.

Grant wanted my family to like him.

Only my pain was apparently never allowed a reason.

When I stayed silent, Grant assumed the argument was over.

He reached over to ruffle my hair.

"Okay.

"Once the long weekend's over, we'll get our marriage license. After that, I'll keep Chloe in line for you."

I moved away from his hand.

"Sure."

That afternoon, I canceled our engagement photo session.

Then I transferred my share of our joint savings back into my personal account.

That night, Grant texted me.

[Monday we're picking outfits for the courthouse. Don't forget.]

I looked at the message.

I didn't reply.

By Monday, I wouldn't be in Toronto anymore.