Ten Years, One Goodbye He Walked Away Forever

When the accident happened, I called Annette Sullivan four times in a row.

Each call cut off mid-ring. Then her text came through.

【In a meeting. Whatever it is, we'll talk tonight.】

A second later, her assistant's post slid up my social media feed.

"Thanks to the boss, I got my first taste of the season—crab, and it was incredible!"

What I noticed was the little black fan on the table. It was running off her charger.

Lying there on the stretcher, I felt the ache spread through every part of me.

Ten years together, and her need for order had always run deep.

She hated broken rules, resisted change anyone else brought into her space, pushed back against any person or thing that disrupted her rhythm.

The charger was one of those rules.

Once, when my phone wouldn't charge, I borrowed hers to test it. She found out, threw it straight in the trash, and gave me the silent treatment for a week.

It only ended when I caved and wrote her an apology.

And now someone had broken one of her rules and walked into her life without a scratch.

Five minutes later, I saved the photo and sent it to her.

【We're done. Be moved out within twenty-four hours.】

……

The nurse looked over at me, her voice gentle.

"When is your family coming?"

"This needs stitches in the ER. We'll need someone to sign."

I thought about it, then texted my friend.

Twenty minutes later, Annette arrived—with Leigh Delgado trailing behind her.

I'd just finished with the wound, and Kevin Dickerson was wheeling me off to settle the bill when he saw her. His face twisted into a sneer.

"Well, look at this. Ms. Sullivan came to see her ex, and she brought her little assistant along too?"

Annette's brows drew tight. She didn't answer him. Instead she crouched in front of me, her tone smoothing into something soothing.

"Oliver, what did the doctor say? Where's the driver?"

"It's nothing. Six stitches."

"He took off. I already called the police."

I moved away from her hand and answered flatly.

She drew it back, awkward, then guilt seemed to settle over her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't ignore your calls on purpose."

I looked at her and cut in, calm.

"I know. You don't need to apologize."

"We're nothing to each other now."

Her face shifted. Her voice dropped.

"Oliver, we've been together ten years. You're really breaking up with me over a charger?"

I laughed softly, my eyes moving to Leigh, standing behind her.

"What else? Was I supposed to wait until he was in your bed?"

"Mr. Lyons, I know you have a problem with me, but you can't humiliate me like this."

Leigh's voice caught, his eyes going red at the rims.

"Ms. Sullivan and I have a perfectly professional relationship."

"I break out in hives when I overheat, so I borrowed her charger for the fan. It won't happen again."

I was about to ask whether there wasn't a single public charging station nearby—but Annette shot to her feet.

She planted herself in front of Leigh, her voice gone cold.

"Oliver Lyons, are you done? "

"Is there any point to bullying him like this?"

I tipped my head back to look at her, a sting rising behind my nose.

"Who exactly is bullying who?"

"You."

She said it without hesitation, her voice like ice.

"Apologize to Leigh."

My eyes dropped to the watch on my wrist. I swallowed down the tightness in my throat.

"An apology's not happening."

"You've got just under twenty-three hours left. Pack your things and go."

"And I'll let both sets of parents know in the group chat that we split on good terms."

Then I worked the engagement ring off my finger and held it out to her.

"You know how Aunt Darlene feels about homewreckers."