Twenty-Three Days Until I Disappear From This Family Chapter 03

Twenty-Three Days Until I Disappear From This Family Chapter 03

Ten days after moving in was my three-year anniversary with Pierce.

I’d confirmed the time with him two days in advance. He replied fast: “Saturday afternoon. Got it.”

Saturday morning, I dug through boxes for the only cardigan without pills, wiped my white sneakers clean, and spent half an hour on makeup in front of the palm-sized mirror in the storage room.

At the restaurant, I picked a window seat. Ordered two drinks. An Americano. And an iced latte, his favorite.

Ice melted, got refilled. Melted again. Refilled again.

Two and a half hours.

Calls went unanswered. Messages went unread.

At six that evening, he finally texted.

“Really sorry. Sophie suddenly wanted to go to the lake where her dad used to take her. She was really upset. I was afraid she’d be alone. Can we raincheck? I’ll make it up to you.”

Attached was a photo. By the lake railing, Sophie with her head down, Pierce behind her, his hand on her shoulder. The setting sun stretched their shadows long and overlapping.

Anyone who saw that photo would think they were a couple.

I stared at it for three minutes.

Then I downed the cold Americano in one go—so bitter it made my whole tongue ache.

I paid for both of us and went home alone.

The next morning, Pierce showed up. Holding a bouquet of red roses, beautifully wrapped.

My heart jumped.

He turned straight down the hallway and pushed open Sophie’s door.

“Sophie, you had a rough day yesterday. These are for you. Hope you smile every day from now on.”

Sophie’s voice came through, hoarse from crying: “Pierce, thank you…”

I pressed my nails into my palms.

“Pierce.”

He turned. Saw me in the hallway. First a start, then that sheepish look of being caught.

“Yesterday was our three-year anniversary.”

He slapped his forehead, put on an exaggerated expression of regret. “Right, right—I knew I forgot something. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“But you remembered to buy her flowers.”

“I just grabbed them on my way. It was nothing.”

“You’ve never once bought me flowers in three years.”

The air went dead.

The regret on Pierce’s face faded into that familiar impatience.

“Can you stop being so petty? Sophie spent the whole afternoon crying at the lake, thinking about her dad. What’s wrong with buying her a little comfort? You’re her sister—can’t you be more understanding?”

George came out and took Pierce’s side automatically.

“Mila, enough. Sophie’s dad died for me. Of course the whole family spoils her. Why are you comparing yourself to her?”

I wasn’t comparing myself to Sophie.

I just wanted to ask my boyfriend what I actually meant to him.

But no one thought that question was worth answering.

I shut my mouth, turned around, went into the storage room, and locked the door.

Sitting on the floor, I opened my contacts. The name I’d saved three years ago. Pierce. With a little sun emoji next to it.

I deleted the emoji.

Then I cleared the note entirely.

He wasn’t my sun. He didn’t even bother looking my way.

At dinner, Sophie quietly slipped a piece of meatloaf onto my plate.

“Mila, don’t be mad. Pierce didn’t mean it.”

I looked at her sincere eyes and suddenly couldn’t breathe.

She’d taken everything that belonged to me and handed back crumbs—and everyone thought she’d done more than enough.

The worst part was, she didn’t even know what she was doing.

That night, I got up from the yoga mat and opened my bank app.

$960.

Tutoring, flyers, night shifts at a coffee shop—three years of saving.

Enough for a sleeper train ticket to the Far Northwest.

I’d save more once I got there.

I tucked the card close to my skin and lay back down.

The bare bulb hummed its tiny buzz.

This storage room had nothing. But at least it was quiet.