They Voted Me Out After Fifteen Years Together Chapter 10

They Voted Me Out After Fifteen Years Together Chapter 10

I finally looked up at him.

He’d lost weight in just a few days.

I used to be ferrified of seeing him like this.

One frown from him and I’d spiral. Wondering what I’d done wrong.

Now I just felt like I was looking at a stranger.

I said, “Dax. Do you remember the poll result?”

His face drained.

I said, “B won by a landslide.”

“You already voted once.”

Tears slid down his face.

“That didn’t count.”

“I never actually wanted to let you go. I just thought you’d never leave.”

“You don’t have a family. You’ve always needed me.”

I smiled a little.

My chest still hurt. But this time it wasn’t because of him.

“That’s exactly why you all thought you could do that to me.”

“Because you thought I had nowhere to go.”

Dax held out the tin box.

“Sable. Come home with me.”

That word. Home.

After fourteen, I’d weighed that word so heavy.

So heavy that anyone who gave me a sliver of light, I believed it was a destination.

So heavy that when Dax said “my family is your family,” I really waited fifteen years.

I learned later. A roof you didn’t own didn’t keep you dry for long.

I didn’t take the box.

“That tin box. I scanned everything inside. I have digital copies.”

“Keep the originals.”

Dax froze.

I looked at him. Each word clear.

“Think of it as a reminder.”

“There was once a Sable Holbrook. No parents. No family. And she genuinely believed you were her family.”

His shoulders shook.

The second boarding call came over the speakers.

Tess pushed me forward.

Dax dropped to his knees.

Gasps rippled around us.

He gripped the railing. His voice ground down to nothing.

“Sable. Don’t leave me.”

“I have nobody but you.

That line. So familiar.

Back when his startup failed. When he was drunk. When he was breaking down. He’d hold me and

say the same thing.

“I have nobody but you.”

So I stayed. Every time.

Cleaned up his messes. Carried him through the low points. Turned myself into a bridge.

Bridges break.

I looked back at him. One last time.

“Dax.”

“You don’t only have me.”

“You still have the life they all voted for.”

The ticket gate opened.

The wheelchair rolled through. Behind me, I heard him break down. Screaming my name.

I didn’t look back.

The train pulled out. Rain slid backward down the window.

The buildings. The bridges. The streetlights of that city. All of it. Left behind.

My phone buzzed.

Southbay project group. A message from Reed:

[Welcome, Sable.]

I looked at those two words. My eyes burned.

This time, no one voted for me.

No one decided who I should lose to.

I pressed my forehead to the window glass.

In the distance, the clouds broke open. Light spilling through.

I knew it then.

I was finally on my way home.