Chapter 1The Echo of a Cold

My boyfriend pointed at the message from a male colleague on my phone.

[“Tough luck having to work late this weekend. Your voice sounded like you were coming down with a cold.”]

“You’re ending a three-year relationship over a trivial bit of small talk?” he asked, his voice dripping with disbelief.

I nodded slowly.

“Yes. Exactly over this.”

* * *

When I brought up the breakup, Bennett Foster remained silent. I couldn’t read a single emotion on his face.

He probably thought I was just throwing another one of my “tantrums,” using the word ‘breakup’ as a desperate lever to get him to cuddle me.

But none of that mattered anymore.

I went back to our bedroom to pack. It didn't take long. I didn’t have much—just enough to fill two suitcases.

As I reached for the door handle, I felt a fleeting spark of hesitation.

Would he be like he was during our first year? Would he rush over, his eyes red and swollen, grabbing my hand and stumbling through a desperate explanation before we collapsed into a tearful kiss?

Or like the second year, when he’d pull me into his chest, even when he was furious, his silent embrace and the gentle pat on my back telling me he still cared?

He didn’t move. He stayed on the sofa, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok.

Until the moment I walked out that door, he never once looked up.