The Blindfold Game That Ended Us Chapter 05

The Blindfold Game That Ended Us Chapter 05

I woke at eight the next morning, surfacing from a shallow sleep just as Liam came

He saw me sitting on the bed folding clothes and paused. “You’re up early.”

He took off his jacket and walked closer, his tone casual. “What’s with the change?

You didn’t text me all night.”.

I looked up at him.

He was right. In the past, I would’ve stayed up waiting with my phone whenever he

came home late.

“Did you reply?” I asked.

He went to the nightstand, picked up his water glass, and drank with his back to me.

“I drove Olivia back last night. The place she’s staying is pretty far out, and she was

freaked out, so I stayed to keep an eye on things. Got too late, so I just crashed there for

a few hours.”

He added, more reassuringly, “I already booked her a five-star hotel. Security’s

solid. Nothing to worry about.”

I kept folding the sweater in my hands. Didn’t say anything.

There were things I could have asked. Like what kind of “keeping an eye on things” meant. Whether he stayed outside the whole night or went in. Whether “crashed for a few hours” meant on the couch or somewhere else.

But I didn’t want to ask.

Over the past eight years, he’d treated me well. Even without the public acknowledgment, he was usually careful about boundaries with other women.

I just didn’t want to admit… how blurry those boundaries got whenever Olivia was

involved.

If she posted at midnight about being unable to sleep, he’d text with her until three

in the morning.

If she said she missed home, he’d send her care packages from her hometown on a

regular schedule. Every year on her birthday, without fail, he’d message her with a

timed “Happy Birthday.”

He did those things for me, his girlfriend. But he did them for her, too.

I’d asked about it so many times. And every time, he had a hundred reasons that

shut me up.

This time, the reason didn’t matter anymore.

He put the glass down, glanced at the suitcase on the floor, and frowned. “What’s

this?”

“Going back to my parents’ place,” I said, putting the folded sweater in. “It’s tradition. The bride stays with her family before the wedding.”

He stared for a second, then came over and crouched beside me. His hand came

down on the shirt I was reaching for, stopping me.

“Let’s stop with the joke, okay?”

I met his eyes. “It’s not a joke.”

“The timing works,” I said, pulling the shirt out from under his hand. “If we don’t do it this year, we have to wait two more.”

He looked at me. The lazy ease in his eyes faded.

Then, after a moment, he said, “Two years might not be so bad.”

He gave a small shrug. “When I’m less busy, I can give you a better wedding

anyway.”

My hands stilled for a second.

Two years.

I remembered him saying the same thing two years ago.

It was like he thought my life had an endless supply of two-years to give.

“Next time you’re in the class group chat, just tell them you were drunk and making things up,” he said, his voice softening into something coaxing. “No one took it

seriously anyway.”

“I wasn’t drinking,” I said, standing up and pulling the suitcase upright. “They

know I’m allergic to alcohol.”

Something flickered across his face. Like he was just realizing there were things

about me he’d never bothered to remember.

I glanced at my watch. Time to go.

“Are you done?” His voice finally hardened. “Because I didn’t say anything at the reunion? You’re going to pull something like this over that?”

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off with a pinch to the bridge of his nose.

“Look, there’s something I didn’t tell you…”

His phone rang.

He glanced at it, then walked to the window.

The call was short.

When he hung up, he stood there for a few seconds. “Olivia’s having some kind of problem. I need to go check on her. We’ll talk when I get back.”

He grabbed his jacket and left.