That's when it hit me—he could love someone. He could protect her.

Eight years with him, and not once did he ever do that for me.

Pudding curled up by my feet, those big, worried eyes locked on me.

I ran my fingers over his head. Tears slipped down, hot and sharp like they were trying to leave scars.

Still, I muttered, "It's fine. It's done."

I didn't need saving—I could handle better solo.

Then my phone lit up.

[Ms. Landon, are you available tonight at 8 PM? Elysium Lounge. I'd like to discuss the Selvora branch lead position with you.]

—Mr. Cadwell, HR Director.

I shook my head, ditching the emotional junk.

Quick rinse, makeup on, bag over my shoulder—I was out.

Elysium Lounge had that chill, lowlight vibe.

Mr. Cadwell was already there, standing the second he saw me. "Ms. Landon. Long time."

I slid into the seat across from him and ordered an iced Americano.

He got right to it—offering me the lead role at the new Selvora branch. We were just getting into the juicy details when—

"Leyla Landon!"

Cue the chaos.

Shayne yanked my wrist hard enough to snap something.

Eyes wild, voice shredded.

"You're really leaving me—for HIM?!"

Mr. Cadwell blinked. "Sir, I think you're misunderstanding—"

"Misunderstanding?" Shayne's laugh was pure chaos, eyes unhinged.

Next thing I knew, he had Mr. Cadwell by the collar, fist cocked.

"Shayne!" I jumped up, wedging myself between them. "Haven't you done enough? You literally told me to disappear. Said we were done. So what is THIS?"

And because things weren't messy enough—enter his buddy—Andy.

"Leyla," he huffed, already in attack mode, "if we hadn't been here chillin', Shayne would've stayed clueless. The guy's been wrecking himself over you, and what do you do? Use him up and bounce to the next?"

I shot Shayne a look. "That what you told them?"

He couldn't even meet my eyes. Classic.

"We were together EIGHT YEARS," I said, voice shaking. "From houses to takeout, I paid my share—even when everything was under your name.

"I once had fifty bucks to my name, and when you said, 'Let's split the soup'? I didn't blink.

"Our total shared living costs? You didn't even break $6K. And after we broke up, you demanded it all back—so I paid. Every. Cent."

I stepped in. He backed off.

"Wasn't that enough for you? And now you drag your crew in here to blow things up? What are you trying to prove?"

Shayne's fist stopped mid-swing.

Breathing hard, but still couldn't meet my eyes.

Andy and Mr. Cadwell just stood there, jaws basically on the floor.

Then—heels, fast and furious—Vanessa barged in.

Vanessa gasped, all fake-shocked. "Leyla! If Andy hadn't called, I wouldn't have known you'd already moved on. No wonder you dumped Shayne outta nowhere."

She latched onto Shayne's arm like some cloying perfume ad. "Shayne, let it go. Don't ruin her date. Just move on—you'll thank yourself later."

His eyes flashed with pain, but he kept staring at me, like I owed him something.

I took a breath, ice-cold. "Shayne, stop. Stay out of my work—and out of my life."

His gaze held for a beat... then finally dropped.

Vanessa yanked him off, but not without throwing me one of those smug, I-win smiles.

Andy looked like he wanted to speak up, but in the end, he just walked away.

The Chat Feed exploded:

[Ahhh! Shay-Shay's just jealous! He still loves her! Asking for the money back was just his way of getting her to talk to him again!]

[Ley doesn't get it—Shay-Shay's all bark, no bite. He's already humbled himself so much and she STILL won't give him a shot? Like, yeah, he says dumb stuff, but what guy doesn't have some pride?]

[Ley's getting way too full of herself. It's lowkey annoying. She's gonna regret losing someone as loyal as Shay.]

I sank back into my seat, face unreadable, and took a sip of my coffee.

Bitter.

Just like the last eight years.

Mr. Cadwell looked a little shaken. "Ms. Landon, are you alright?"

I shook it off, pulled on my best corporate smile. "Sorry you had to see that. Let's get back to business."

He slid the transfer papers over. I didn't even blink—just signed.

The pen scratched across the page like slicing clean through eight years of my life.

"The Selvora branch is yours now," he said, patting my shoulder. "And if things ever get tough—work or otherwise—HQ's got your back."

"I'll be fine," I said, calm and steady. "I'll report in the day after tomorrow."

Booked my flight for tomorrow night. Then headed back to the hotel.

The Chat Feed just wouldn't quit:

[Don't be sad, Ley-Bae. Shay-Shay really DOES love you. He just sucks at showing it.]

[Yeah, yeah, he didn't grow up with love. You need to be more understanding.]

Understanding?

Hadn't I already done enough of that?

I had a 102℉ fever, couldn't even sit up.

Shayne blocked me because I didn't reply while he was working late.

It was Pudding—sweet, frantic Pudding—who barked like crazy and pawed at the neighbor's door until someone got me to the hospital.

What a freaking joke.

I grabbed my phone, opened the gallery.

Our old lock screen photo—both of us smiling like love was enough.

Reality check?

I exhaled slow, hit delete.

Then I just let go, collapsing into bed as the tears finally came.

Pudding jumped up, licking my face like he was trying to patch me back together.

I clung to him, burying my face in his fur.

Eight years gone—it burned.

But deep down, I knew:

A clean cut hurts less than a slow bleed.

I cried until I knocked out.

In my dream, we were back in college.

Shayne still had that warm, goofy smile.

He used to run all over Monterra hunting for heating pad when I had cramps.

Used to stay up all night just so I wouldn't fail another econ final.

So when did it all flip?

Maybe it was the first time he blocked me.

Or the first time I said sorry just to end his silent treatment.

Maybe it was when I stopped being me and turned into whoever he needed.

Yeah.

I'd simped long enough.

I was done.

The next morning, I took one last lap around Monterra—my home for eight years, and the place I was finally leaving behind.

The sun was warm, streets familiar. Pudding trotted beside me.

Somehow, I ended up outside the amusement park.

The same one where Shayne and I had our first date.

Memories hit like a sucker punch.

At eighteen, he won me a giant stuffed bear right here.

At twenty, we came back every year like it was our thing.

"Woof!" Pudding barked, yanking me out of the nostalgia spiral.

I looked up.

Right under the Ferris wheel stood a full-blown pink floral castle, balloons swaying like it was straight out of a rom-com.

It was the proposal setup—I'd imagined it a thousand times.

My chest tightened. I took a step closer, like my body was moving without permission.

Dead center in the crowd: Shayne, down on one knee in a sharp suit.

And in front of him, glowing in white dress—Vanessa.

I froze.

My phone buzzed with a calendar alert: [Eight-Year Anniversary Today.]

What a freaking joke.

He used our anniversary... my dream proposal spot... to propose to my ex–best friend.

The Chat Feed lit up like a slot machine:

[Ley, don't look! It's all a setup!]

[Vanessa told Shay her parents were pressuring her to get married. She begged him to fake it!]

[This was supposed to be YOUR proposal, not hers!]

A setup?

Please.

Shayne never lifted a finger unless he wanted to.

This? He agreed to.

Loud and clear.

I let out a bitter laugh, spun on my heel, and headed straight for the hotel.

No drama. No tears. Just me and my suitcase, already packed.

I rolled it to the airport in silence.

Pudding padded along beside me, unusually quiet—like he knew.

Security, check-in, done.

I sat at the gate, killing time on my phone.

Then—bam.

Vanessa's post popped up on my feed:

[Finally said yes at twenty-eight.]

Attached: a shot of her hand flaunting the ring.

The ring.

The exact one I'd stared at with Shayne in that shop window. Twice.

My face didn't even twitch. I gave it a like.

Phone buzzed. Unknown number.

I picked up.

Shayne's voice came through, all smug and sure of himself.

"Leyla, I KNOW you're jealous. You finally gave in, huh? This is your shot—apologize, mean it, and maybe I'll forgive you."

I didn't say a word.

Then—loudspeaker in the background:

[Passenger Leyla Landon, please proceed to Gate 12 for flight MV1234.]

Silence.

Then his voice cracked like thunder. "Leyla?!"

Glass shattered.

"Which airport are you at? Answer me!"

I could hear him running, breath heaving, panic rising.

"I'm ordering you—tell me where you are. NOW."

The Chat Feed was melting down:

[Shay's spiraling!]

[He's wrecking the place! I heard a limited-edition action figure bite it!]

Behind him, a voice pleaded, "Mr. Raffield, the acquisition meeting—"

"Get out!" Shayne shouted. "Cancel everything!"

Tires screeched. He must've bolted into the street.

"Can't you at least tell me where you're going?"

His voice cracked—fragile, raw, like I'd never heard it before.

Boarding call again.

Still didn't speak.

Just hit 'end.'

Then, right before blocking his number for good, I heard it—

"Leyla—!"