The Choke Point

The private room fell into a deathly silence the moment Jillian said those words.

She sat there without saying a word, her brows tightly furrowed in displeasure.

I knew exactly what she was waiting for. She was waiting for me to lower my head and apologize, just as I had done countless times before.

As I stared at the pale, ghostlike man reflected in the mirror, I suddenly felt far too exhausted to deal with this farce. So, I offered no explanation and made no attempt to stop her. Instead, I simply stood up and walked out.

Mocking laughter immediately rang out behind me. It came from Charles Prescott, the escort.

"Ms. Oakley, Mr. Clancy's upset. Aren't you going to comfort him?" he inquired sardonically.

"Comfort him? Don't make me laugh. Give it two days, and he'll come crawling back to apologize." Jillian's voice was cold, laced with undisguised contempt.

That was what she truly thought of me.

Unfortunately, she was wrong. I never contacted her again over the next week.

I thought the relationship had finally come to an end. Alas, Jillian showed up one evening without the slightest warning.

I had been chatting with a friend on my phone when I heard the front door unlock. The smile on my face slowly faded. I looked at Jillian calmly as she stepped inside, feeling an unfamiliar sense of distance between us.

Her eyes swept over my face, and she frowned slightly. "Have you calmed down?"

Her words almost made me laugh. Had I calmed down? I'd never been calmer.

I had canceled our wedding attire order and decided not to renew the lease on the apartment over the past few days. Once I finished the project I was currently working on, I would leave this city for good.

Silence settled over the room as Jillian approached me and looked me over with a hint of surprise. "Have you gained weight?"

My hand paused halfway as I lifted my glass.

I hadn't gained or lost any weight. The only reason she thought I looked fatter was that she'd spent the past several days with someone much slimmer than me.

Jillian let out a small sigh of relief before setting a gift down in front of me. "Well, you can't blame me for that," she teased. "If anything, you can only blame yourself for putting on weight."

I opened the box.

There was a tailored suit inside, but it was two sizes too small for me.

"Thanks," I said, casually setting it aside. My hand drifted almost unconsciously to my freshly cut hair, still shorter than I was used to.

Jillian's gaze followed the movement, and she looked taken aback. “When did you cut your hair?”

"A few days ago," I replied evenly, my hand ruffling through my hair.

She fell silent.

In her mind, a pathetic man like me should have been burying himself in tears or too heartbroken to eat. The idea that I would have the time or the mood to get a haircut was unfathomable to her.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in her chest.

She turned and walked into the bathroom to freshen up, only to stop short the moment she looked up. After all, everything that belonged to her was gone.

She asked with a frown, "Where are my face wash and toothbrush?"

I'd thrown them away, for I'd assumed she had left for good.

I'd been so consumed with planning my future that I didn't even notice Jillian walking up to me until she was standing right beside me.