Chapter 4

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

"Check Nathaniel's story. You'll want to see this. - Anonymous"

I stared at the message for a long moment before deleting it. Whatever it was, I didn't want to know. That part of my life was over.

Downstairs, I could hear them moving around, their voices a low murmur punctuated by occasional laughter. They were going out—dinner reservations at some expensive place downtown, another public declaration of their love.

Perfect. It would give me time to pack without questions.

I waited until I heard the front door close and Nathaniel's car pull out of the driveway before I moved. Three suitcases, carefully chosen to hold only the essentials. Clothes, books, the few pieces of jewelry that weren't from him. My passport, my acceptance letter to Cambridge, my father's phone number written on a slip of paper in case my phone died.

The house felt different with them gone. Smaller somehow, like it was already preparing to forget me.

I was folding my last sweater when I heard voices outside. Not their voices—different ones, familiar in a way that made my stomach clench.

High school friends. Of course. They always gathered here before nights out, drawn by Nathaniel's easy charm and the well-stocked bar.

"Elena!" Marcus called out as they trooped through the front door. "Come have a drink with us!"

I descended the stairs slowly, pasting on the smile I'd perfected over years of being the little sister, the tag-along, the afterthought.

"Look who's all grown up," Rebecca laughed, pulling me into a hug that smelled like expensive perfume and wine. "God, you look different. Did you cut your hair?"

"A little," I said.

"It looks amazing! Very... liberated."

If only she knew.

They settled into the living room like they owned it, drinks appearing in hands with the magic of long practice. I sat on the edge of the group, nursing a glass of water and listening to the familiar rhythm of their conversations.

"Remember when Nathaniel jumped into the lake to save you?" Jessica was saying, her words slightly slurred. "You were what, fifteen? And you couldn't swim?"

Sixteen. I was sixteen, and the water had been so cold it had stolen my breath. Nathaniel had dove in fully clothed, his expensive watch forgotten as he pulled me to shore. He'd wrapped me in his jacket and carried me to the car, whispering reassurances the whole way home.

"You were so lucky to have him looking out for you," Rebecca added. "Like having a superhero for a big brother."

Brother. Always brother.

"He was different then," I said quietly.

"Different how?" Marcus leaned forward, interested.

I thought about it for a moment—how to explain the way Nathaniel used to look at me, really look at me, like I mattered. How he'd remember my favorite books and bring me soup when I was sick and drive me to school when it rained because he knew I hated getting wet.

When had that stopped? When had I become invisible?

"More... present," I said finally. "He paid attention to things."

"He still does," Jessica protested. "He's just focused on different things now. The business, Sabrina, the wedding. Adult stuff."

Adult stuff. As if loving someone who didn't love you back was childish.

"Speaking of which," Rebecca said, pulling out her phone, "did you see their latest post? They're at Chez Laurent! God, that place is impossible to get into."

She thrust the phone toward me before I could protest. There they were, candlelit and gorgeous, Sabrina's hand resting on Nathaniel's arm as they smiled for the camera. The caption read: "Celebrating our future together. Can't wait to call this man my husband."

The comments were the usual flood of heart emojis and congratulations, but one caught my eye. From Sabrina's account, posted just minutes ago:

"So grateful for our perfect little family. Some people just need to learn when to let go and move on. #blessed #newbeginnings"

The words hit me like a slap. She knew. Somehow, she knew I was leaving, and she was already celebrating my departure.

"Elena?" Rebecca was looking at me strangely. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," I said, handing back the phone. "Just tired."

"You should come out with us tonight," Marcus suggested. "Take your mind off whatever's bothering you."

"Thanks, but I have an early day tomorrow."

True, if you counted a 6 AM flight to London as an early day.

They left eventually, trailing laughter and promises to see me soon. I watched from the window as their car disappeared into the night, taking with it the last connection to my old life.

Back in my room, I sat at my desk and pulled out the letter I'd been writing. Three drafts so far, each one torn up for being too honest, too raw, too much of everything I'd promised myself I wouldn't be anymore.

This time, I kept it simple:

Nathaniel,

Thank you for teaching me that some loves are meant to teach us how to let go.

Be happy.

Elena

I folded it carefully and placed it on my pillow, along with the small box containing every gift he'd ever given me. The necklace with the Hayes family crest. The cashmere scarf. The annotated copy of Jane Eyre. Even the ridiculous stuffed elephant he'd won for me at a carnival when I was twelve.

Let him remember me how he wanted to. Or better yet, let him forget me entirely.

My phone showed 11:47 PM. In six hours, my father's driver would arrive to take me to the airport. In twelve hours, I would be over the Atlantic, flying toward a life where Nathaniel Hayes was nothing but a chapter in my past.

I turned off my light and lay down fully dressed, my passport in one hand and my future in the other.

The house was silent now, waiting for its owners to return home and discover that one of their burdens had finally lifted itself.

By the time they woke up tomorrow, I would be gone, and the girl who had loved Nathaniel Hayes would be dead and buried somewhere over the ocean.

The thought didn't hurt anymore.

It felt like freedom.