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With a last hug for my mother and Lisa, I gather my things and head to the door. The drive back to Andrew’s house—our house, I remind myself—feels longer than usual.
I pull up in front of the house, my heart a confused mess of longing and dread. I’m barely aware of shutting off the engine, of stepping out of the car and walking to the door.
This place that once felt like home, where I imagined a future with Andrew, now feels cold, unfamiliar.
As soon as I step inside, Bruno and Bear come bounding out from the kitchen, their tails wagging.
A small smile manages to find its way to my face, and I kneel, running my hands over their warm, familiar fur. “I’ve missed you guys so much,” I murmur, rubbing their ears.
But then I hear footsteps, and I look up. Andrew stands in the hallway, watching me with an expression I can’t quite read.
He looks exhausted with shadows under his eyes, his face tight with strain.
My heart races as I take him in, every nerve in my body buzzing to life. He looks like he hasn’t slept, like he’s been carrying his own storm of emotions—and seeing him like this turns my knees to jelly, sending a shiver through my lungs.
I get to my feet, and we stare at each other, the silence stretching painfully between us. There are so many things I want to say, so many explanations on the tip of my tongue, but none of them feel right.
Instead, I gather what strength I have left and manage, “I’ve come to get my stuff. The rest, the movers will come by to collect.”
He nods, his face impassive. “I think that’s best.”
The tiny hope I had clung to—some miracle that he would want to talk, that he might give me a chance to explain—shatters.
He doesn’t say another word. He just turns and heads toward the kitchen, leaving me standing there, aching and hollow.
Blinking back tears, I steel myself and head up the stairs, the dogs following close behind me, wagging their tails.
Once in my room, I grab a suitcase from the closet and look around.
Memories flood over me with each item I touch, each familiar corner of this space we once shared. My hand shakes as I zip open the suitcase and start to pack, but the numbness wears off quickly, replaced by a fresh wave of grief.
My chest tightens as I remember how Andrew gave up the master bedroom without a second thought, just to make me feel at home.
The tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over, silent and hot against my skin.
I never wanted this. All my life, I’ve done my best to keep my promises, to honor my commitments. And keeping my father’s last wish—it felt sacred, something I couldn’t betray.
But, what has it cost me? The man I love, the life we could have built together. And for what? A lie that grew so big it consumed everything.
I clutch my suitcase, anger rising as I think of my father, of the promise he made me swear to uphold, binding me to silence. I loved him, and I wanted to honor his wishes, but it was unfair.
This secret has cost me so much. It’s broken the one thing I thought would last—the one man I thought I could rely on. The man I love more than I ever thought I could, with his steady, dependable presence, his deep, unwavering love.
And I’ve let him down. I’ve destroyed us.
Lost in my thoughts, I almost don’t hear the soft knock on the door. I look up and see Andrew standing there, his hand resting on the frame.
His gaze moves to the suitcase at my feet, and he pauses, as if debating whether to say anything at all. After a moment, he speaks.
“Do you need help carrying anything out?” he asks, his voice calm, neutral.
I shake my head, trying to keep my voice steady. “No, I’ve got it.”
For a moment, we just stand there, locked in this unbearable silence. The air between us feels charged with everything we haven’t said, everything we can’t take back.
I want to tell him how sorry I am, that I never meant to hurt him, that I would give anything to undo it all. But the words won’t come, and I’m not even sure they’d make a difference if they did.
“I thought I knew you,” Andrew says.