His ‘Love Coach’ Planned Every Step of Our Relationship, She Also Planned Its End Chapter 07

His ‘Love Coach’ Planned Every Step of Our Relationship, She Also Planned Its End Chapter 07

Logan stormed back to our apartment, completely consumed by rage. He desperately tried to force himself to calm down, refusing to lose his upper hand in front of me again.

But every time he closed his eyes, his mind was flooded with images of Felix and me standing together.

He saw me looking up, eyes bright with a genuine smile as I accepted Felix’s grand confession in front of a packed room. He saw me seamlessly wrapping my arm through Felix’s right in front of his face.

And worse, he saw me looking pale and exhausted, melting securely into Felix’s protective embrace.

In that moment, jealousy drove him completely insane.

Who the hell did Felix think he was? How did a guy like that deserve to stand by my side, let alone steal me away? He loathed Felix, but what he hated infinitely more was the fact that I had actually found another man just to spite him.

Logan’s eyes burned a furious red at the thought. Unable to contain it, he launched a violent kick straight into the coffee table beside him.

Sleep was out of the question. He lay wide awake in bed, his entire focus anchored to the front door, straining his ears for the slightest sound.

He had no idea where his impossible confidence came from, but he was entirely certain I would come home.

After all, for five whole years, no matter how toxic or explosive our fights had been, we always ended up making peace inside these walls.

But Logan waited from afternoon to dusk, and from the dead of night until the sun broke over the horizon. The silhouette he was waiting for never materialized.

The apartment—and the world outside—remained suffocatingly quiet. I still hadn’t come back.

When he finally checked the time, twenty-four hours had slipped away. I had stayed off the grid for an entire day.

In that fraction of a second, the quiet, spiraling panic lingering deep in Logan’s chest finally surged out into the open. He was terrified.

It wasn’t like I had never packed up and walked out after a fight before. But every single time, I would just clear my head nearby, calm down, and find my own easy way back within two hours tops.

Yet now, I had been completely off the grid for twenty-four hours straight.

Logan’s thoughts began to spiral violently. I was with Felix, and I hadn’t come home all night. What exactly did that mean?

He didn’t have the courage to trace that thought to its end. Every ticking second spent without seeing my face felt like pure, agonizing torture.

Suddenly, a vivid memory flashed through his mind—of me, looking fragile, quietly begging him.

“Can you please start coming home earlier and just spend a little time with me? Waiting for you every single day is so agonizing. I miss you so much.”

Back then, he had been far too busy living it up with his toxic inner circle to care that someone was waiting for him at home. Darcy had drummed it into his head that couples needed personal space.

So, the intimacy and quality time I had begged for looked like nothing more than petty, nagging behavior to him. Even when I swallowed my pride to plead with him, he dismissed it as dramatic, empty whining.

He had pushed me away with the exact same irritated scowl every single time.

“Can’t you just get a life of your own?”

But standing there now, he suddenly understood exactly how agonizing my waiting had been. Missing someone that fiercely was a heavy, suffocating torture.

A wave of bitter regret washed over Logan.

Why hadn’t he just stayed home and been there for me? He had been perfectly happy and fulfilled by my side, so why on earth had he listened to that garbage advice about “personal space”?

Logan felt like the sheer weight of his longing was going to drive him over the edge.

He lunged out of bed, tearing through the apartment, searching frantically for any trace of me. He just needed to catch a hint of my familiar scent to stop the panic.

But when he threw the closet doors open, he froze. It was completely hollowed out, more than half my clothes gone. There wasn’t a single trace of me left.

Belatedly, the pieces of the puzzle began clicking together in Logan’s mind, tracing back to the red flags he had casually ignored a few nights ago: the suitcase sitting right beside my feet while he was busy convincing me to cave for Darcy’s sake.

And the words I had thrown at him over the past few days began echoing through his skull.

“Logan, we are completely done.”

“I told you, we’re over.”

No wonder I had effortlessly surrendered the high-end anniversary restaurant to Darcy. No wonder there had been no tears, no screaming tantrums over the last few days.

In that moment, the most brutal, unvarnished truth stared Logan dead in the face. I wasn’t throwing a dramatic tantrum to get his attention. I had genuinely, irrevocably resolved to leave him.

An unprecedented wave of absolute terror gripped Logan. Pride, ego, and saving face vanished instantly, leaving only a single, desperate mantra looping in his brain.

He had to get me back. Even if he had to drop to his knees and beg, he had to bring me home.

But when he frantically dialed my number, the automated operator’s flat voice cut through the line, informing him that the number had already been permanently deactivated.

He never could have imagined I would execute a break this cleanly, refusing to leave him even a single thread to cling to.