I should be happy. Now was the chance for me to live my life for me. So why was I so upset?
Four
Kaden
My mind, usually a well-oiled machine, was a fractured mess. I’ve done my time. I will always be second to your stupid fights.
Was I so wrong to have wants, too?
I stumbled backward, my legs suddenly unreliable, and I sank down onto the edge of the couch. The soft cushions offered no comfort. The sweet, lingering scent of her perfume twisted into a cruel, mocking whisper of her absence.
It was the scent of goodbye.
My eyes swept the living room, searching for a sign, some indication I was being pranked. I’d even welcome a dream that I would wake from. But everything was eerily, perfectly in place. Her usual clutter – the half-finished book on the side table, the charging cable for her phone, the stray hair tie on the armrest – was absent. She had purged herself from the space, leaving behind only the stark emptiness where her vibrant presence used to be. It was like she’d been erased, leaving only the ghost of her meticulous order.
A hollow laugh escaped my lips, void of humor. Were there signs I had missed? Arlo’s words, tossed so casually in the gymjust an hour ago, echoed mockingly in my head:or avoiding commitment?The bitter truth of it stung, a searing indictment of my selfishness.
Confusion continued to take over and I was struggling to understand how I truly felt about the situation. Was I upset or was I relieved?
The adrenaline from my training session, which had been a shield against the anxieties of the day, now amplified the crushing weight of her departure. My muscles, which had been tired from hours of striking and grappling felt like lead. I was incapable of movement. This wasn’t a physical opponent I could outmaneuver or overpower; this was a silent, emotional knockout, and I was sprawled on the canvas, gasping for air.
Without warning, a sudden, fierce surge of anger flared through me. How could she up andleave? Was this what grieving was? A constant change of emotion with no warning? How could she go without a proper conversation, without arealfight?
She didn’t even let me fight for her, for us. Had our seven years together meant so little a note was all she could spare? She was there for me after I got hurt, spent countless hours by my side hoping I would wake up and then going to physical therapy, our family dramas, and the usual ebb and flow of a long-term relationship. I thought we were stronger than this. I thoughtwewere a team.
A team I hadn’t even been sure I was committed to until now.
But then the anger dissolved, leaving behind a raw, vulnerable shame. She had tried, hadn’t she? The low-grade arguments, those were her attempts that I had either ignored or dismissed as minor turbulence. I’d been so focused on my own internal battles and my grand aspirations I’d failed to see her quiet desperation. ????I’m such an idiot.
She wanted a future, yes, but not justafuture. She wantedourfuture. A future I’d been too afraid, too indecisive, to fully commit to. I knew I wasn’t perfect, and she let me know – constantly – she could do better. I really need to pull myself together.Thisis a good thing.
But a note?There had to be more. The Isabella I knew wouldn’t only leave a note… Or maybe I didn’t really know her too well after all.
I stood up, pacing the perimeter of the living room like a caged animal. The house, once filled with the comfortable sounds of our shared life – her laughter, the clatter of dishes, the murmur of the television – was now a tomb.
My gaze fell on the framed photo on the mantel: Isabella and I at the beach last summer, sun-kissed and smiling, her arm linked through mine, her head resting on my shoulder. We looked so happy, so carefree. Kaden, the one in the picture, seemed oblivious to the storm brewing just beneath the surface. He was still dreaming, still chasing. Still, in her words, putting her second.
I picked up the photo, my thumb tracing the outline of her face. Her eyes, usually so full of warmth and humor, seemed to hold a hint of sadness, a premonition of this very moment. Had I simply been too self-absorbed to notice it then? How long had she been feeling this way?
The silence pressed in, amplifying every regret. The sacrifices she had made for me, big and small, flashed through my mind. Rescheduling plans around my appointments. Cheering me on from the sidelines of countless amateur bouts. Tolerating the peculiar smell of liniment which always seemed to cling to me. The resentment in her words was starting to become clearer.
The thought of facing Arlo tomorrow, of having to explain this seismic shift in my life, made my stomach churn. He knewme, knew my hang-ups, my fears. He saw this coming long before I did. The idea of his pitying glances, his knowing nods, was almost as unbearable as the emptiness in the house. Most importantly, I would probably have to share the things making me seem weak.
I walked to the kitchen, the impulse to do something, anything, to break the suffocating quiet overwhelming me. The refrigerator hummed, the only sound in the stillness. Her favorite coffee mug was gone from the drying rack. Her special tea, the fancy kind she only drank on weekends, was no longer in the cupboard. Every small, seemingly insignificant thing which was missing became another punch to the gut, a testament to the thoroughness of her departure.
There was no turning back. No desperate phone calls, no pleading texts, no showing up at her family’s doorstep.Don’t call and try to change my mind.Isabella’s words were final. She had made her choice decisively, without a shred of doubt.
The setting sun, once a beautiful spectacle as I glanced out the sliding glass door to the balcony, now cast long, eerie shadows across the living room.
My dreams of the octagon suddenly felt hollow, stripped of their vibrant allure. What was the point of training the best if there was no one left to share the victories with? What was the point of figuring things out if the most important thing I’d ever had was already gone?
For the first time in a long time I felt utterly and hopelessly defeated.
Five
Val
I stood outside of Mane Street Supplies staring up at the neon sign, psyching myself up to step inside.