He Thought I’d Beg, Until I Cancelled Our Engagement Chapter 06

Ethan didn’t spend that evening admiring the skyline with Natalie.

With his relatives complaining and his mother berating him, he took a cab back to the apartment

that night.

On the way, he kept checking our texts and calling me. Nothing.

“All this over a seat?” he muttered, gripping his phone.

He still thought I was trying to force him to give in.

The apartment had a fingerprint lock.

It beeped. The door opened.

“Claire!”

No answer.

He switched on the lights. The living room felt empty in the silence.

My half of the bedroom closet was bare. Even the scarf in the corner was gone.

My toothbrush, towel, and skin care products were all gone from the bathroom counter.

His things sat alone in their usual places.

His breath caught. He yanked open the lowest desk drawer.

The manila envelope was gone.

It held the IOUS he wrote at his lowest point and the four–word promise in his own handwriting:

[I’ll never fail you.]

He sank onto the edge of the bed and sat there as the night deepened.

The next morning, he rushed into my old office.

He pushed open the department manager’s office door. “Where’s Claire? Is she on extended leave?”

The manager didn’t look up. “Claire’s gone.”

“That’s impossible! She’s been on that team for three years. She’s about to get promoted. She

wouldn’t just leave!”

“She didn’t quit. It was an internal transfer. She asked to go to a branch office.” The manager

glanced at him.

“Where?”

“That’s confidential. I can’t tell you.”

Ethan planted both hands on the desk.

The manager gathered up some reports, then spoke again.

“Before she left, she gave me a message in case a Mr. Cole came looking for her.‘

“She was serious.”

Meanwhile, in Pittsburgh.

I sat at the head of the conference table while my new team reported on the project’s progress.

“Claire, at this rate, we can lock down this market next month.” My new coworker Alex sounded

excited.

“Stay on it. Don’t get complacent.” I closed the file. “That’s all for today.”

Back in my office, my phone vibrated on the desk.

An unfamiliar number.

I almost declined the call, but my gut told me to answer.

“Claire, you’re in Pittsburgh?”

Ethan’s voice was hoarse and exhausted.

“What do you want?”

“You transferred just to spite me? You don’t know anyone there. What are you getting out of this?”

“Peace and quiet.”

“Stop this. I was wrong on Thanksgiving. Come home so we can talk.”

“Ethan, we broke up.”

“I never agreed to that.”

“You don’t need to save me a seat this time.”

I hung up.

A few seconds later, a notification for a ten–thousand–dollar transfer appeared on my phone.

The memo read: [Buy yourself a new bag. Consider it an apology. Come on, baby. Stop this. Send me your address and I’ll come get you.]

Once, I handed out flyers all day in the freezing wind to help him scrape together two thousand dollars in startup money.

Now he wanted to buy back five years of my life for ten thousand.

I tapped his contact photo and blocked his number.

The screen finally went quiet.