"Where to?" the cab driver asked, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

"An apartment complex near University Avenue," I told him. "Just take the fastest route."

"Rough night?" he asked.

"The longest night of my life," I muttered.

I pulled my phone from my wet pocket and opened the Scorecard app. The screen cast a harsh white glow in the dark backseat. Rows of numbers filled the display, detailing every transaction over the last six years.

*Plus ten. Dropped off high-protein lunch at the gym.*

*Plus fifty. Didn't complain when he forgot our five-year anniversary.*

*Minus one hundred. Annoyed Mia by asking for my car keys back.*

"Look at this," I whispered to the empty air.

Every single point represented a grievance I had swallowed down. I spent all those years fantasizing about hitting ten thousand. Would he look shocked? Would he cry with regret? Would he drop to one knee in front of his team and say, *Elena, I'm sorry I made you wait so long*?

My nails dug into my palms. The sharp sting kept the tears away.

"Stop here," I instructed the driver when Cole's luxury off-campus building came into view.

I paid the fare and marched up the stairs to our shared unit. I dragged my large duffel bag from the hall closet and hauled it into the bedroom. Cole's wrestling singlets and Richmond athletic shirts were folded neatly on the closet shelves right next to my dresses.

"Not anymore," I said.

I yanked my clothes off the hangers, stuffing them into the open duffel on the bed. I didn't bother folding anything.

When I walked past his desk to grab my phone charger, the computer monitor woke up from sleep mode. A folder sat right in the center of the desktop.

*Personal\_Expenses.xlsx*

I clicked it. A spreadsheet opened, documenting years of categorized purchases.

*May 14. Elena's birthday necklace. $50.*

Right below it, dated the exact same day:

*May 14. Mia's 14k gold bracelet. $500.*

"Fifty dollars," I read aloud, my voice shaking. "Five hundred dollars."

I scrolled down, my hand trembling against the mouse.

*March 12. Concert VIP passes. Mia. $300.*

*March 12. On-demand movie rental. Elena. $4.*

*August 2. Weekend trip (3,000 points reward). Budget Motel. $89.*

I remembered that August weekend clearly. Mia had posted a photo of herself at a five-star rooftop lounge overlooking the city skyline on that exact Saturday—a trip Cole had paid for because she claimed she was feeling anxious.

At the very bottom of the document, a note was typed in bold red font:

**"I promised her when her family broke apart that even if I get a girlfriend, she will always come first."**

A dull ache bloomed in my chest. I couldn't even cry. All the hope I had hoarded for six years shattered against those black-and-white numbers.

I shut the laptop screen. I zipped my duffel and dragged it into the living room.

A framed photo sat dead center on the media console. It was a picture taken last Christmas where I stood in the middle, wedged awkwardly between Cole and Mia. I was smiling so carefully in that shot, believing I had finally earned my place in his life.

I snapped the back off the frame, pulled the photo out, and dropped it straight into the kitchen trash can.

The electronic deadbolt on the front door clicked.

Mia walked in first, slipping out of her wet designer boots.

"Elena, you're not asleep?" she asked, her tone entirely casual. "I had a fight with my mom. Cole said I could crash in the guest room for a few days."

Cole stepped inside right behind her, hanging their wet jackets on the wooden rack.

"She's staying here until things cool down at home," he announced, shaking the rain from his hair. "You cool with that?"

In the past, I would have nodded. I would have said yes, and then I would have laid awake at two in the morning, listening to them laugh over a movie in the living room. If I ever complained, Cole would dock a hundred points for 'causing domestic tension,' and I would force myself to stay quiet.

I didn't care about the points anymore.

"You're actually asking me if I have a problem?" I asked.

Cole paused, his hand still on the coat hook.

"In six years, have you ever asked what I wanted once?" I challenged.

I turned my focus directly to Mia.

"You know he has a girlfriend, right?"

Cole's jaw clenched. "She has nowhere else to go tonight, Elena."

"Then move out and rent an apartment with her!" I yelled.

Cole let out a harsh scoff. "Are you going to act completely irrational again?"

"Irrational?" I shot back. "She comes over every time she gets a paper cut! She wears your clothes! She calls you at three in the morning to change a lightbulb in her dorm!"

Mia's eyes instantly welled up. She backed away toward the open hallway.

"I'll go stay at a hotel," she whimpered, her voice cracking softly. "Please don't fight because of me..."

"You know it's because of you!" I snapped. "Best case scenario, you have absolutely zero boundaries. Worst case scenario, you enjoy being the real priority in another woman's relationship!"

Cole's expression darkened. The air in the apartment went freezing cold.

"Apologize to her right now," he demanded.

"Why should I?"

He took a heavy step toward me, his voice dropping to a dangerous register.

"Elena, if you don't apologize to Mia this second, I'm deducting two thousand points from your account."

A loud, bitter laugh burst from my throat. It echoed off the walls.

"Deduct them," I told him, looking straight into his eyes. "Deduct two thousand. Deduct ten thousand. Clear the entire damn board."

I grabbed the handle of my duffel bag and walked toward the door.

"Stop right there," Cole ordered.

He reached out and grabbed my forearm. His grip was tight, the grip of a Division I wrestler used to controlling bodies.

I looked down at his hand. A thin silver band wrapped around his ring finger.

My gaze shifted to Mia's hand, clutching her purse by the entry table. She wore the exact same silver band.

My own left ring finger was completely bare.

I yanked my arm violently out of his grasp and held my empty hand right in front of his face.

"I waited six years, Cole."

He stared at my bare fingers, his brow furrowing.

"I waited for you to wear matching rings with her," I said, my voice shaking with fury. "I waited to find a spreadsheet on your computer that explicitly says I will always be second place!"

Cole's face drained of color.

"You went through my laptop?" he asked, his voice suddenly hollow.

"Is that seriously your only takeaway?"

He took a quick breath, running a hand through his damp hair.

"I made a promise to her," he started, his words rushing out in a defensive flurry. "When her parents divorced, she was terrified of being abandoned. I promised her she would always have family. It isn't romantic, Elena. It's just—"

"Just what?" I cut him off. "Just that I'm supposed to accept being second forever?"

"You don't understand," Cole argued. "She's family."

"She isn't your blood," I replied. "And I was supposed to be your wife."

"You still can be!" Cole shouted, stepping closer. "Just stop acting like an insecure child! You're ruining everything we built over nothing!"

"Nothing?" I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Six years of my life is nothing to you?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

Mia sobbed quietly by the doorway. Neither of us looked at her.

"Cole, I'm done waiting."

I swung my right hand and slapped him across the face.

The sharp crack silenced the room. His head snapped to the side. A bright red handprint flared across his cheekbone.

He stood completely frozen, his dark eyes wide with utter shock. He didn't speak.

I didn't give him a second glance. I gripped my duffel bag, pushed past Mia, and walked out into the rain.

I flipped a page of my textbook, not reading a single word.

My phone sat face down on the polished oak table. I hadn't replied to any messages since walking out of the apartment.

A sudden commotion near the main entrance broke the silence.

I didn't look up until heavy footsteps stopped directly in front of my desk.

A massive bouquet of red roses dropped onto the open pages of my book.

Water droplets clung to the dark petals, soaking into the thin paper of my textbook.

Cole stood on the other side of the table. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his Richmond Athletics jacket, his jaw clenched tight.

"Take them," he demanded.

I didn't move.

"I don't want them," I replied.

"Don't be stubborn, Elena. Pick them up."

He shoved the heavy floral arrangement forward. The weight of the three dozen roses pressed against my forearms.

He turned his head slightly, his jaw rigid.

As a heavyweight wrestler, he only knew how to dominate opponents on the mat. Apologizing wasn't in his playbook; he didn't know how to set down his pride.

"Last night was my fault," Cole muttered.

I stared at the thick green stems wrapped in brown kraft paper.

"You're apologizing?" I asked.

"I said it, didn't I?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"I added the five hundred points back," he continued, his tone regaining its familiar arrogance. "You're back at ten thousand."

I kept my hands resting on the table.

"I'll get everything ready tomorrow," he added.

A familiar, arrogant smirk touched the corner of his mouth. It was the exact expression he wore when he planned a surprise. The smug, tender look of a man who thought he was fixing everything.

He was going to propose.

For six years, that was the exact promise I had lived for. Now, the cloying scent of the roses made my throat tighten. Every point he had ever deducted flashed behind my eyes.

"Will we keep playing the points game after we get engaged?" I asked.

Cole frowned. "What?"

"Do I need to earn points to get you to take out the trash?" I challenged. "Or to come home for dinner on time?"

He let out a loud, booming laugh.

Several students at the next table glared at us. He ignored them completely.

"No," Cole replied. "Why would we save points after we're married?"

I traced a cold water droplet on a red petal.

"Then what about Mia?"

His smirk vanished instantly.

"Are the canceled dates going to stop?" I asked, my voice steady. "Will the emergency midnight drives end? Or does her priority status just get a new name once I have a ring on my finger?"

Cole placed his palms flat on the table, leaning into my space.

"Elena, do not ruin a good moment."

"I'm asking a simple question."

"I bought you three dozen imported roses," he argued, his voice tightening. "I gave you the points back. What more do you want from me?"

"I want an honest answer."

A loud pop music ringtone interrupted us.

Cole grabbed his phone. He checked the caller ID, and his rigid posture relaxed immediately.

"Hey," he said into the receiver, his tone shifting into that gentle, coaxing cadence he only reserved for one person. "Don't worry. When have I ever stood you up? I'm walking to the truck right now."

He ended the call and shoved the device into his pocket.

"Mia and I have a go-kart reservation," he stated.

I looked at the roses, then up at his face.

"Right now?" I asked.

"We're late," Cole explained, already stepping away from the table. "She's going to be mad if I don't hurry."

I stood up. My chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor.

"Cole, will you always choose her?"

He froze in his tracks. He kept his broad back to me.

"Stop making a fuss," he shot back over his shoulder. "Go buy an umbrella at the convenience store. It's going to rain."

He didn't wait for my response. He pushed through the library exit.

A minute later, the familiar roar of his engine echoed from the parking lot.

I picked up the heavy bouquet. The thick stems dug into my palms.

I walked out of the double glass doors just as the sky ripped open.

Freezing rain hammered the campus. I stepped off the curb, letting the downpour soak through my thin sweater. The chill bit into my skin.

I stood in the middle of the empty asphalt lot.

The brown paper wrapping around the flowers turned into mush. Red petals broke loose, falling to the wet concrete one by one.

A small white envelope slid out from the center of the arrangement.

I caught it right before it hit a puddle.

The card was sealed. I tore the flap open with a wet thumb.

Gold foil letters gleamed against the white cardstock.

*For my little princess Mia, always bright and lovely.*

My stomach twisted.

This was his default florist note. He ordered flowers for her so often that the shop kept it on file. He didn't even bother to change the recipient name when buying his girlfriend an apology bouquet.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out. The screen was covered in raindrops. I wiped it on my wet sleeve.

Three new messages from Mia sat on my lock screen.

I opened the chat.

An image loaded—a screenshot of the Scorecard app's administrative server logs. Red circles highlighted a dozen point deductions from the past month.

*Elena, did you think he deducted those points?*

I stared at the glowing screen.

*I logged into his account and did it,* her next text read.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I didn't type anything.

Another message popped up.

*And he only came to make peace today because I told him to. Don't overthink it.*

A harsh, ugly laugh tore out of my throat.

I bent forward, clutching my stomach. The laughter echoed in the empty parking lot.

Six years.

I remembered skipping meals to buy him new wrestling gear. Plus twenty points.

I remembered sitting in the freezing bleachers for four hours while he ignored me to coach Mia. Minus fifty points for complaining about the cold.

I tiptoed around his moods. I swallowed my anger. I treated that stupid app like it dictated my worth.

Mia had been at the controls the entire time.

The roses. The gold foil card. The spreadsheet. The points.

It was all a massive, humiliating joke.

*Sister, I'm giving you more than just point deductions,* her final text read.

I marched over to the green metal trash can by the street lamp.

I shoved the entire bouquet inside. The gold card fluttered down, landing in the muck next to a discarded soda cup.

Water streamed down my chin. I couldn't tell if it was the storm or my own tears.