"I'll pick you up later," Daniel said as he closed the door to the backseat and left in his black G-Wagon, not at all sparing me a backward glance.

I should be used to being in second place after Phoebe. After all, Daniel only ever cared about her.

I ended up waiting outside the funeral parlor for a good two hours. The sun had almost set, and it wasn't until the kind old guard stationed by the parlor asked if I was waiting for someone that I realized Daniel wasn't coming.

The funeral parlor was on the outskirts of town. Cabs hardly ever drove past the area, and I could not get a ride through my ride-hailing app, either. At last, I heaved a sigh and left the parlor in resignation.

The weather was fine until I had gone halfway from the parlor, and the torrential downpour started. I couldn't very well turn back, so with grim determination, I made my way down to the foot of the hill.

With no small amount of luck and effort, I flagged down a passing cab.

My head was heavy, and my steps were light by the time I reached the apartment. I took a quick, hot shower and half-blow-dried my hair. After that, I crouched by the television cabinet and rummaged through the drawers for ibuprofen.

When I had taken my pills, I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over me.

I slept fitfully that night, waking up a handful of times. Fever dreams plagued me, and though they were relentless, I could not remember any of them in my lucidity.

It was after I had knocked back a few cold pills that Daniel finally came home. He did not look at me and headed straight to the bedroom. A moment later, he emerged with a suitcase.

"Phoebe's mood has been unstable lately. I'll stay with her for a while. Call me if you need anything," Daniel said.

Before I could speak, he opened the door and left.

He never cared about me. If he did, he would have noticed that a drastic fever had leached my face off color.

…

I spent the next two days recovering from my fever at home, during which I penned a resignation letter. On Friday morning, I arrived at work and handed the letter in.

The human resources manager had tactfully asked if I was leaving because of the pay, but I shook my head and said I was going home.

"But if you're going home, wouldn't you and your boyfriend be doing long-distance?"

I took the resignation acceptance letter from the manager and shook my head again. "No. We're breaking up soon anyway. I'm going home to get hitched."

The manager eyed me with shock as I walked out of the place where I had worked for the last four years.

…

I did not expect Phoebe to sit in my living room.

"What's with the box?" Daniel asked, surprised as he watched me enter the house with a box in my arms.

I kept my face neutral and my voice even as I lied, "Oh, my office is moving, so I figured I'd move some of my stuff back home."

"Where's the office moving to?" Daniel frowned.

I was about to answer him when Phoebe interrupted, "Daphne, I've been down since my father's passing and ended up making a lot of bad decisions. Looking back, it was ridiculous of me to ask Daniel to have a child with me.

"But I swear, nothing is going on between me and Daniel. Now that my father has passed, I don't want to have a child anymore. I'm sorry if I hurt you. Please don't take it personally!"

She looked so apologetic that I might have believed her if I hadn't already seen the screenshot of her provocative conversation with Daniel. But I was in no mood to call her bluff, so I merely nodded and brought the box into the room.

I had only just unpacked my things when I heard my phone ring in the living room. That was when I realized I had left my phone there.

I went to open the door, but my hand had only just grazed the knob when the door swung open violently.

Daniel stood on the other side, his face stormy as he held up my ringing phone. He pinned me with a dark look as he demanded, "Who is 'Babe,' and why are they calling you?"