The Last Free Pass

I did not reply to Dylan Nelson’s attempt to soothe me.

I only took the screenshot of the diamond ring recipient change alert, then moved it to my hidden album.

The diamond ring had been advertised as a once-in-a-lifetime purchase.

When Dylan first bought it, his eyes had been filled with tears as he said, “Jenna, this is the one and only ring I’ll ever buy.”

Two hours ago, Bianca had replaced me as its recipient.

As I sat alone at the tiny table in our rented apartment, I stared at the confirmation for my spa manicure appointment.

It was scheduled for 2 p.m. the next day.

I had scraped that money together from my grocery budget, saving for two full months before I could bring myself to book it.

Years of doing house chores had left my knuckles thickened and coarse.

Every fall, the skin between my thumb and forefinger and around my fingertips cracked in several places, stinging whenever they touched water.

I had planned to get a manicure tomorrow, then take a picture after Dylan slipped the ring onto my finger and send it to my grandmother back home.

I had wanted to tell her that I was finally going to have a home of my own.

The lock turned. Dylan stepped inside.

He did not bring up the ring. In one hand, he carried a container of meat pies from my favorite takeout place.

With the other, he pulled out a tube of hand cream from the drugstore downstairs and set it in front of me.

“Jenna, have it before it gets cold.”

His voice was light, as though a slice of meat pie could smooth over the fact that he had given my engagement ring to someone else.

I did not touch the food.

His phone buzzed. The screen flashed Bianca’s name.

Right in front of me, Dylan answered the call. Bianca’s tearful voice came through the speaker.

“Dylan, I have a trial shift at that upscale nail salon tomorrow, but I’m having an allergic reaction, and the skin on my hands is peeling. If the owner sees it, there’s no way she’d hire me.”

Dylan frowned.

His gaze swept across the table and settled upon the confirmation for my manicure appointment.

After a few seconds, he took it and pinned it beneath his phone.

“Don’t cry. I’ll take care of it,” he said.

I sat across from him without saying a word or trying to snatch it back.

I simply watched as he called the salon and smoothly gave them my full name and phone number.

“Hi, I’m calling about Jenna Vogel’s appointment. I’d like to transfer it to Bianca Shelly. Yes, tomorrow at two.”

After hanging up, Dylan nudged the ten-dollar hand cream toward me.

“Jenna, Bianca really needs this job. Her livelihood depends on her hands, so this is more urgent for her. Just use this tonight, and I’ll book you another manicure after I get paid next month, okay?”

I stared at the cracks along my fingertips. Then, I remembered the words I had accidentally seen in his phone memo earlier that day.

[Free pass for letting Bianca hurt Jenna: 1 remaining]

[If Jenna ends the relationship first, all free passes will automatically reset.]

This was how he chose to use the final free pass.

My pain could wait. Her needs had to come first.

I did not demand an explanation like I would have before, nor did I ask when he planned to return the ring.

I picked up the hand cream and tucked it away in the back of the drawer.

“Okay,” I said calmly.

The next afternoon, I received a payment confirmation text from the salon.

The appointment note had been changed to, [Urgent use for Bianca’s trial shift.]

I took a screenshot. Then, I asked for half an hour off work and took the subway.

I did not go inside and make a scene. I simply stood outside the glass door and looked at the display screen at the front desk.

The screen was rotating through the finished hand model shots from the day.

After the manicure, Bianca’s hands looked pale, smooth, and flawless. The diamond ring that was once mine sat on her ring finger.

The background was the plain white tablecloth I had chosen myself when I had made the appointment.