This Time, I Walk Away

I had barely packed half my clothes when the lock clicked at the front door.

Neil walked in carrying a paper bag. The second he spotted the suitcase sitting near the entryway, the relaxed look on his face vanished.

"What's going on?"

He pushed the door shut with more force than necessary and headed straight toward me. Before he even reached me, he had already pulled out his phone.

A gray tick appeared beside the message he had apparently just tried to send.

"You blocked me?" He glanced at the suitcase again. "Now you're packing too? Gabriella, what exactly are you trying to pull?"

"Nothing."

My voice came out so calm that I almost did not recognize it.

Normally, one look like that from Neil would have been enough to make me explain myself.

I would tell him how much it hurt that he had defended Shelley, how badly the coffee had burned my hand, and how humiliating it felt to watch him comfort her while barely acknowledging me.

In the end, I would have fought back tears while trying to make him admit that I still mattered to him somehow.

This time, I did not bother.

I folded another shirt, smoothed it once, and placed it inside my suitcase.

Neil stood there watching me.

For several seconds, he seemed genuinely thrown off by my silence.

Then a quiet laugh escaped him. "So this is your new strategy?"

He nodded toward the suitcase. "Last time you got a week of no contact, you didn't even make it a day before checking my Instagram through another account. And now you're packing your clothes?"

His gaze slid back to me, amusement creeping into his expression. "You actually expect me to believe you're leaving?"

I quietly moved my burned hand behind my back. "Why are you here?"

"To fix this."

Neil answered as though that should have ended the conversation.

He walked over to the table, opened the paper bag, and pulled out a tube of burn cream.

Before I could step away, he caught my wrist.

He turned my hand over and examined the angry red skin across the back of it.

"You saw the coffee tipping over." His brows drew together. "Why didn't you move your hand?"

I stared at him. "You were right there."

His fingers stopped for the briefest moment.

Then he exhaled softly, almost like I was the one making things difficult. "What did you expect me to do? Fire Shelley because she knocked over a cup?"

His thumb held my wrist in place while he unscrewed the cap. "She just graduated, Gabriella. She was already scared out of her mind. You should've seen her face. She went completely pale."

He squeezed some cream onto my skin and gently spread it over the burn. "You know how to handle something like this. There's no reason to turn it into a whole drama."

That was one of Neil's greatest talents.

He could neglect me and somehow make it sound like a compliment.

Once he finished with the cream, he reached back into the bag.

This time, he pulled out a slice of walnut cake. It was my favorite.

He set it in front of me. "Eat something and calm down. Your stomach always acts up when you skip meals."

A faint smile tugged at his mouth. "If you get sick just because you're mad at me, guess who ends up looking after you?"

For one dangerous second, I almost softened.

The words sounded too much like the Neil I had fallen for.

Back in college, I once had stomach pain so bad I could barely stand. Neil had carried me several blocks after the nearest clinic turned out to be closed.

I had held onto memories like that for years, using them whenever I needed to convince myself that the man I loved was still somewhere inside the person standing in front of me.

Whenever Neil hurt me, some trace of that old tenderness always seemed to return at exactly the right moment. He would bring me a favorite dessert, touch me in some familiar way, or soften his voice just enough to make me wonder whether I had been too sensitive.

That was how he kept me from leaving.

My eyes dropped to the cream shining across my skin. "Why does Shelley's mystery box only have unconditional love?"

Neil did not even blink. "It's a stupid game."

"So is mine." I looked up at him. "Then why does mine only give me punishments?"

Neil leaned back against the couch and reached for my wrist again, pulling me toward him with the easy confidence of someone who already believed the argument was over.

"Because you can take it. Shelley can't." He gave me a faint smile. "She's sensitive. If she opened one and got 'Better Luck Next Time,' she'd probably cry all night. You're different. You're stronger. You've always been more mature."

There it was again.

Neil loved calling me mature whenever he needed me to swallow something unfair without complaining.

I pulled my hand out of his grip. "I'm tired of being mature."

He studied me, then gave another quiet laugh. "Okay, then don't be mature. Be difficult for a few days if that makes you feel better. I can deal with it.

"Just unblock me when you're finished throwing your tantrum. Don't make me take your phone and do it myself."

Before I could answer, his phone rang.

The name Moonbeam appeared across the screen.

Neil picked up almost immediately, and the change in him was so quick that it made my chest tighten. The lazy teasing disappeared from his voice.

"Hey. Why are you crying?" He sat forward. "Slow down. Tell me what happened. I'm listening."

I could not hear Shelley's answer.

Within seconds, Neil was already reaching for his jacket.

I looked at the untouched walnut cake. "I thought you came here to fix things with me."

"Shelley has a fever." He slipped one arm into his jacket. "She's alone in her dorm. I'm going over there to check on her."

Of course he was.

He came over to me before leaving and casually straightened the collar of my shirt. The gesture was so familiar that it hurt more than I wanted it to.

"Eat the cake." His voice softened again. "And put more cream on your hand later."

Then he looked directly at me. "Stop comparing yourself to Shelley, Gabriella. She needs me right now, and you don't."

Something inside me went completely quiet.

Neil headed toward the door.

Right before walking out, he turned back, as though he had nearly forgotten something. "Oh, and stop blocking me."

His voice sounded casual, but the warning beneath it did not.

"You can be angry. Pack a suitcase or threaten to leave if it helps you get it out of your system. But just remember, we don't break up unless we both agree."

Then he left.

The door clicked shut behind him, and silence settled over the apartment.

I stood there for a few seconds without moving.

Then my phone buzzed.

The seventh mystery-box link had appeared on the screen.

This time, Neil had already opened it for me.

A bright message filled the screen.

'Congratulations! Your reward: Forgive Neil Waller and send Shelley Vaughn a get-well message.'

A second text appeared almost immediately.

'See? Even fate knows you're not going anywhere.'

I stared at those words.

For years, Neil had treated every argument like a game he controlled. He decided when to block me, when to come back, how long I should suffer, and when I had finally earned another chance with him.

Somehow, I had mistaken that for love.

I picked up the walnut cake and dropped it into the trash.

Then I threw away the burn cream as well.

After that, I looked down at the matching ring I had worn for five years.

This time, I took it off without hesitation and slipped it into the deepest pocket of my suitcase.