Cathy's Perspective:

"Thanks, but no thanks." I was extremely calm in this moment.

Cole's jaw tightened. "Cathy, stop making a scene. I'm trying to make it up to you. I'm really trying."

"I'm tired, Cole. Exhausted." Eight years of emotional torture had drained every ounce of strength from my body.

He let out a cold laugh. "Tired? Me being a good friend makes you tired? You're always so dramatic. Fine, keep sulking. I'm going to check on Giselle." He turned and strode toward his car.

A tear of sheer relief slipped down my cheek. Eight years, and I would always be the second choice in his relationships.

I drove back to the apartment we shared. As soon as I opened the door, the air was thick with Giselle's cloying perfume. Leftover cereal and used tissues littered the coffee table.

Walking into the bedroom, my Dyson Airwrap was scattered across the vanity, still warm, with strands of blonde hair tangled in it. Next to it, my La Mer face cream—the one I rarely used because it was so precious—was left with the lid off, a massive chunk visibly gouged out of it.

The Dyson was a reward I bought for myself after signing a huge deal, and the La Mer was an expensive investment. Cole, on the other hand, had casually gifted Giselle a top-of-the-line laptop once.

My eyes snapped to the closet. The designer coat I had saved up for a whole year to buy was gone.

My phone rang. It was Cole.

"Hey, babe," his voice was unusually light. "Giselle feels much better after the skydive. Oh, by the way, she borrowed your black coat. She said she was cold. You don't mind, right?"

My jaw clenched. "It's fine."

"I knew you'd be understanding." He sounded relieved. "Oh, and she used your Dyson and face cream too. She thought mine were too masculine."

A cold fury surged in my chest. This wasn't just heartache; this was the humiliation of feeling utterly violated.

"My Dyson? My La Mer?"

"It's just stuff," he said impatiently. "We can share everything, right? What's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine."

I gripped my phone, my hand shaking. For eight years, it was always my things and my time being casually offered up to Giselle. What kind of sharing was this?

"Cole," I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. "Do you think it's appropriate for Giselle to just use my personal belongings like that?"

He let out a long sigh. "Are you serious right now? She's my best friend. More than that, she's family. It's just a coat and some skincare. You're being completely unreasonable."

"Just some?" I let out a short, cold laugh. This wasn't about things. This was my personal sanctuary being trampled over by his blatant favoritism toward Giselle.

"I'm going to make sure Giselle gets home safe. We'll talk when you calm down." He hung up immediately.

Listening to the dial tone, a mocking realization hit me: this wasn't my home. I was only ever a passing guest here.

Cathy's Perspective:

I looked around the apartment I had poured my heart into. Every throw pillow, the color of the paint on the walls, the furniture I spent weekends assembling—it was all the warmth I had tried to build. Cole had only ever offered a "looks good," yet he took it for granted, proudly labeling it all as "ours," and even letting Giselle treat the place like her own territory. It had always been my one-sided effort feeding his and Giselle's "generous sharing."

The lock clicked. Giselle's familiar, high-pitched laughter drifted in, followed by Cole's low chuckle. My heart raced, but I was surprisingly calm.

Giselle walked in first, pale but with bright eyes. My expensive black designer coat was draped casually over her arm. Not only was it wrinkled, but there was a faint stain on the cuff.

"Cathy! You're here!" Giselle shouted dramatically, dropping my coat onto a nearby chair as if it were a hot potato. "Oh, Cathy, I'm so sorry I used your things! Cole said you agreed, but I still feel bad about it. You're so generous to lend out such an expensive coat. You're so lucky to own such nice things."

She always knew exactly how to use the most innocent tone to flaunt her "privilege."

Cole walked in, an awkward smile on his face. "Hey, Cathy, look, Giselle is fine now. You don't have to worry." He habitually reached out to grab my waist.

My body tensed, and I took a step back, dodging him.

His smile froze, a hint of impatience entering his voice. "What is it now? Throwing another tantrum?"

"Don't touch me. Go to her!"

His face flushed red. "You are being ridiculous! She needed comfort! This is our home, and I can invite anyone I want!"

"Oh, really?" I looked him dead in the eye. "So your best friend can casually use my Dyson, gouge out my La Mer, and stain my designer coat without asking me at all? This is what you call 'our home'?" I pointed at the crumpled coat. "Does she think she lives here now?"

Cole's jaw clenched tightly. "Stop making wild accusations! She's been through a lot! You're just jealous of our connection! You are completely unreasonable!"

"I'm just finally seeing the truth, because you will always put her needs above our relationship!"

"It's just a coat and some skincare products!" he yelled. "Do you have to ruin our eighth anniversary over material things?"

"Eighth anniversary?" I laughed out loud. "You even forgot it was our anniversary this morning. You practically pushed me out of the plane so your best friend could enjoy it. Last Christmas, you canceled our trip so you could listen to her cry about getting scammed online. On my birthday, her cat went missing, and you left me alone at a restaurant for two hours! Tell me, Cole, am I your girlfriend, or am I just the emotional understudy waiting in the wings for when Giselle doesn't need you?"

Cole stared at me in shock. "You are out of your mind! You're twisting the facts! You are my girlfriend; she is just a friend! Stop talking about Giselle like that, she's fragile."

Right at that moment, Giselle, who had been quietly watching the drama, let out a sudden sob.

She clutched her chest, her eyes wide. "Oh, Cole... I can't stay here anymore. I'm causing trouble. I should just go. I'm sorry, Cathy..." She backed toward the door with theatrical movements.

Cole's head snapped toward her. "Giselle! Don't leave! You aren't causing any trouble!" He rushed over to put his arm around her shoulders, glaring at me from across the room. "Look what you've done! You drove her away!" He turned back to gently console Giselle, then yelled at me, "Cathy, stop this right now! If you're going to keep acting like this, then you leave! I will not tolerate you making Giselle feel unwelcome in my home."

Those words echoed in the air. This was his home, not our home.

In that moment, I truly felt a sense of release. He had made his choice. He stood by her.

My hands trembled slightly. "Fine. I'll leave."

I walked into the bedroom and pulled out my large suitcase. Cole was still holding Giselle. She had her face buried in his shoulder, shooting a triumphant sidelong glance at me.

"See, Cole?" Giselle mumbled, muffled but clearly audible. "I knew she never liked me... Maybe it's for the best. She never understood our bond."

"She's just jealous of you." Cole stroked her hair, throwing a mocking, cold smile my way. "She'll be back. She can't live without me. Give it an hour, and she'll come crawling back begging me."

I quickly and methodically packed my essentials and work documents. Anything he had bought me or that we bought together, I left behind.

The sky outside was an oppressive purple, pouring heavy rain.

I dragged my suitcase past the sickeningly intimate scene in the living room, not giving them a single glance. I walked straight out the door and shut it behind me completely.