The elevator doors slid open, and I came face to face with Samuel and Patsy, just about to step in.

"It's the middle of the night. What are you throwing a fit about this time?"

Samuel's eyes dropped to my suitcase, his brow knitting tight.

Half-hidden behind him, Patsy leaned out and clapped a hand over her mouth in pretend shock.

"Millie, are you running away from home? Just because I said I wanted seafood stew earlier?"

She tugged at Samuel's sleeve, her voice pitched to sound wounded.

"Sam, this is all my fault. I shouldn't have asked for anything. Please, go smooth things over with Millie."

Samuel patted the back of her hand, telling her not to worry.

Then he stepped forward and blocked my way.

"Millie, you've been running this same act for three years. Aren't you tired of it yet?"

"Every time you get mad, you pack your bags, and every time you come crawling back on your own. You think this is fun?"

I looked at him.

In three years, I had packed my bags exactly twice.

The first time was when he forgot my birthday and took Patsy to a concert.

The second time was when he lent Patsy the money we'd been saving together for a house so she could start her business.

Both times, he'd stopped me at the door.

First silence, then a sigh, and finally he'd take my hand and tell me to stop acting up. And once I softened, he'd carry on as if nothing had happened.

"I was in the wrong, but Patsy's situation is special."

"Stop making a scene. I've sent you twenty grand. Go buy yourself a bag."

He thought this time was the same, that I was just using it to force him to back down.

"Put the suitcase back."

When I said nothing, his tone eased a little.

"I was partly to blame today too. I shouldn't have joked about proposing. I've got the day off tomorrow. I'll take you to the counter and let you pick out a real diamond ring. Happy now?"

He reached out to take my suitcase.

"Patsy's stomach is really hurting, and every restaurant out there is closed. Just go back now and get the stew going, and we'll call it settled."

I moved my suitcase away from his hand.

His fingers closed on empty air, and his face darkened at once.

"Millie, I'm giving you a way out. Don't push your luck."

I listened to him without the slightest ripple of feeling.

So it turned out letting someone go was this simple.

I took the spare key from my pocket and set it lightly on the fire hydrant beside us.

"Samuel. These three years, sorry to have troubled you."

My voice was soft, like a gust of wind that could scatter at any moment.

"No need to buy the ring, and I won't be making any seafood stew again. If Miss Baxter's stomach hurts, you can learn to cook for her yourself."

Samuel froze.

He stared at the key as if he still hadn't caught up.

"What's that supposed to mean?" His eyes narrowed, a warning creeping into his voice.

"You want to break up? Millie, think this through. You walk out that door now, and don't ever think about coming back."

Looking at that confident face of his, I suddenly found it a little funny.

I stepped around him and wheeled my suitcase out of the elevator.

Samuel just stood there and let out a cold laugh. "Fine. Let's see how long you can keep up the tough act."

After the elevator doors closed.

The phone in Samuel's pocket suddenly chimed with a text alert.

He pulled it out lazily and glanced down.

"Mr. Vance, the companion on your two-person aurora trip has been canceled. Your refund will be processed within three business days."

The train tore through the dark, the lights outside blurring into a long ribbon of glow.

I leaned back against my seat and looked at the messages on my phone.

I'd finished the paperwork to leave the company yesterday. HR approved my resignation without any fuss.

My destination was Ashford, nearly two hundred miles away.

There was a design firm there where I'd just been hired. The pay was a little lower than before, but it came with housing.

I opened my phone, blocked Samuel Vance's contact, and deleted it.

Three days later, Ashford.

I was sitting at my new desk, sorting through the client files in front of me.

The screen lit up. An unknown local number.

I silenced it right away.

That made six unknown numbers today.

I knew who was behind them.

Because half an hour earlier, Patsy Baxter had sent me a text.

【Millie, stop hiding. Sam's back from his trip, and when he found you gone, he lost it.】

【Please just come home. He's thrown all my things out.】

Looking at that message, I could picture the exact look on Samuel's face right now.

Three days ago, he'd assumed I was just going to stay at a hotel for a few nights.

The next morning he'd flown out of town to close a deal.

He was certain that by the time he got back, I'd have come home on my own, meek as ever.

The phone buzzed again. This time it was Samuel's buddy, Maurice James.

I picked up.

"Where the hell did you go?" Maurice's voice was thick with worry.

"Sam's losing his mind. He turned the whole place upside down, and now he's searching everywhere for you."

I kept the phone tucked against my ear, my hands still tapping at the keyboard.

"I'm not his anything anymore, Maurice," I said flatly.

"No way, you're actually serious?" Maurice sucked in a sharp breath.

"Sam thought you just went to crash at a friend's for a few days. He even said once you cooled off, he'd buy you the newest bag out there."

"Come on, you know Sam. All bark, soft underneath. When he saw you'd taken the mint plant, his eyes went red."

"His eyes went red because Patsy Baxter got him worked up, more like."

I cut Maurice off.

"Maurice, do me a favor and pass this along. I left the key. I deleted my fingerprint. From now on, leave me alone."

I hung up and added Maurice's number to the block list too.

Samuel's panic had come too late, and it was too cheap.

After work, I walked the streets of Ashford alone.

Passing a flower shop, I bought a bunch of sunflowers.

Life without Samuel made even breathing come easier.

I no longer had to time my day around getting home to cook.

I no longer had to carefully step around Patsy Baxter's landmines.

And I no longer had to move myself to tears over an empty promise.

Back at my place, I put the sunflowers in a vase.

I was about to go shower when my phone lit up again.

This time it was an email.

Sender: Samuel Vance.

【Millie Harding, aren't you full of yourself now.】

【Quitting, changing your number, moving. You think that's enough to get away from me?】

【You have three days. Crawl back here. Otherwise, don't blame me for what happens next.】

I looked at that email, dripping with threat.

He was still up there looking down on everyone.

He thought he could do what he'd done for three years, bring me to heel with a few harsh words.

I didn't reply. I dragged the email straight into the trash.

Then I powered off the phone and went to sleep.