Rachel shoved her suitcase aside and stormed into the apartment like she still lived there, despite the fact that all her belongings were long gone. She spun around, fists clenched, voice trembling with rage.
“You can’t do this to me, Luke!”
I folded my arms. “I already did.”
“That’s illegal!” she screamed.
“No,” I replied. “What’s illegal is telling your boyfriend you need space and then posting vacation photos cuddled up with your ex.”
Her face reddened instantly. “That’s none of your business!”
“We were living together,” I said. “It was absolutely my business.”
She threw her hands in the air. “Okay, so maybe I needed a break. Maybe I needed clarity. Maybe I needed—”
“To cheat in peace?” I cut in.
Her mouth snapped shut.
I walked to the storage closet and pulled out a small key attached to a tag. “Your things are in storage. Same unit you used before you moved in. Here.”
She didn’t take the key.
Instead, she took a step closer, lowering her voice into something almost pleading. “Luke… babe… I just got overwhelmed. That’s all. Cabo was… impulsive.”
“Funny,” I said. “Your Instagram looked pretty planned.”
She blinked hard, realizing the sympathy angle wasn’t working.
“Just give me my car back,” she said stiffly.
“It wasn’t your car.”
“It was MY car!” she protested.
“It was MY loan, MY insurance, MY title,” I corrected. “You just drove it.”
Her voice shook. “I can’t believe you betrayed me like this.”
I actually laughed. “I betrayed YOU?”
She stomped toward the window, staring at the empty parking lot again. “Okay, then buy it back! We can talk to the dealer—”
“I don’t want the car back,” I said. “And the sale is done.”
Rachel’s eyes flicked around the apartment, finally noticing the missing photos, the empty dresser space, the lack of anything that belonged to her. Her voice cracked.
“You actually packed my things?”
“An hour after I saw the photo of you sitting on Tyler’s lap.”
She froze. “Someone sent you that?”
“Half the city saw it,” I said. “You posted it publicly.”
Her hands flew to her face. “Luke, please. I didn’t mean for everything to blow up like this.”
“I didn’t blow it up,” I said quietly. “You did.”
For a few seconds, she just stood there, trembling, shoulders shaking. Then she straightened, wiped a tear, and glared at me with sudden venom.
“You’ll regret this.”
“No,” I replied calmly. “I think I just avoided wasting another year with the wrong person.”
She stormed toward the door, yanking it open. Before leaving, she turned back, eyes full of spite.
“You’re heartless.”
“I learned it from you,” I said.
She slammed the door so hard the frame rattled.
And just like that—peace.
Cold, sudden, beautiful peace.
But the fallout was far from over… and it came from the person I least expected.
Rachel didn’t disappear quietly. Of course she didn’t. Within 24 hours, I had:
• three missed calls from her mom
• two angry voicemails from her best friend
• a paragraph-long text from her ex-boyfriend Tyler, attempting to defend her (ironically)
• a threatening message from Rachel herself promising to “ruin my life”
I didn’t respond. Not out of spite, but because I truly didn’t feel anything for her anymore—no sadness, no longing, no guilt. Just… neutrality.
I slept better that night than I had in months.
A week later, I visited the storage unit to drop off a couple things. As I walked down the hall, I heard crying. Loud crying.
I rounded the corner and saw Rachel sitting on the concrete floor outside the unit, surrounded by boxes with her name on them.
She looked up when she heard my footsteps.
Her makeup was smeared, her hair messy, her face red and puffy. She wasn’t angry anymore.
Just exhausted.
“You did all this so fast,” she whispered. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”
“You told me not to contact you,” I said. “I respected that.”
“Yeah, well…” She sniffed. “I didn’t think you’d actually move on.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
She laughed once—sad, broken. “I messed up, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t just mess up,” I said. “You showed me who you really are.”
She lowered her gaze. “I don’t have a car now. I don’t have a place to stay. Tyler doesn’t want anything serious. My mom’s mad at me. Everything sucks.”
I sat on the opposite side of the hallway, giving her space. “I’m sorry you’re going through that. But it’s not my responsibility anymore.”
She wiped her face. “I know.”
We sat in silence for a moment.
“I never meant to hurt you,” she said softly.
“I know,” I answered. “But you still did.”
She nodded slowly. “So this is it? We’re really done?”
“We were done the moment you chose someone else while still wearing the necklace I bought you.”
Her hand instinctively touched her collarbone. The necklace was gone—I guessed pawned, sold, or “lost.”
She closed her eyes. “Goodbye, Luke.”
“Goodbye, Rachel.”
She stood, grabbed the key to her storage unit, and walked inside without looking back.
That was the last time I saw her.
When I drove home, for the first time in years, I felt completely—undeniably—free.
