She Said She’d Watch My Man. Then She Stole Him Chapter 07

She Said She’d Watch My Man. Then She Stole Him Chapter 07

The door slammed shut. The apartment fell silent.

The lights were on. It was warm.

But Dorian felt cold.

I never said “break up” lightly.

For seven years, because of Sera’s watch, he had been careful.

Attentive.

If something upset me, Sera would step in, talk it through, clear up the misunderstanding.

I never just disappeared without a word.

He stood in front of the vanity.

In the mirror, he could almost see me sitting there in the morning, brushing my hair.

We were getting married.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The clock hit three. Three in the morning.

He pulled out his phone and called me.

Princeton wasn’t far from New York.

It was past three. I’d just gotten out of the shower.

Dozens of missed calls–from Sera, from Dorian.

I put on my face mask. The phone rang again.

I sighed. I answered.

Neither of us spoke.

A few seconds passed.

Then he said, low, “What does this mean?!!

I smiled dryly, “You don’t know what ‘break up‘ means?”

He sighed, tired, “Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“I said it clearly—”

“Mira.”

He cut me off. I heard the faint click of a lighter.

“I’ll have the charm repaired. An expert can fix it.”

“Sera cried hard. She knows she was wrong.” His voice was heavy,

“Don’t do this, okay?”

I didn’t need to see him to know his brow was furrowed.

“I’m not ‘doing‘ anything,” I said,

“This is it. Don’t contact me again.”

The line went quiet.

His breathing was slow. Heavy. Like his thoughts were stuck.

Then he said, “Seven years. We’re about to get married.”

“How many sevens does a woman have?”

Even now, he was calm. Rational.

I held it in. I couldn’t anymore.

After a long pause, I let out a bitter laugh.

“Right. Seven years. What a heavy sunk cost.”

“Good thing I know–sunk cost shouldn’t affect future decisions.”

I pulled the phone away.

I hung up. I blocked him.

I found a new job quickly in Princeton.

I’d always worked in biotech, and there were more opportunities here–a better fit.

Half a month later, I got off work late.

Sera was waiting outside the building.

She stood under a streetlamp. Her cheeks had sunken in.

The shadows on her face were heavy.

When she saw me, her eyes lit up.

I stopped.

She stepped forward hesitantly, reaching for my hand.

When I stepped back, she froze.

She lowered her hand, “How… how have you been?”

She looked thinner than before.

I thought about the post again.

Back in New York, I’d cried for three days. Slept, woke up, cried again./

One evening, I opened the post again.

I expected to see her struggling. Maybe even triumph.

Instead, her pinned comment read:

[I lost my best friend. I’m going to find her.]

I thought it was just guilt talking.

A moment of regret. I didn’t think she’d actually come.

“Mira…”

She opened her mouth. The tears came.

“You saw the post, didn’t you?”