Chapter 133
Emily's POV
The apartment was too quiet.
I stood in the doorway for a long moment, keys still in my hand, listening to the silence that had replaced the chaos of earlier. No voices. No movement. Just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant rumble of traffic outside. The emptiness pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Alex was gone. I knew it before I even stepped inside, before I saw the absence of his shoes by the door, the missing jacket from the hook, the carefully neutral way the living room had been arranged—like he'd never been here at all.
Mason stood beside me, shivering despite the dry clothes I'd given him at a gas station bathroom. His wet hair still dripped onto the collar of Ethan's old hoodie, the sleeves hanging past his fingertips. He looked small again, the way he had that first night when I'd nearly hit him with my car. Fragile. Lost.
"Go take a shower," I said quietly, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears.
He hesitated, his eyes searching my face. "Are you okay?"
I almost laughed. The question was so absurd, so inadequate for the wreckage I felt inside, that I couldn't even begin to answer it. Instead, I just nodded and gently pushed him toward the hallway. He went, glancing back once before disappearing into the bathroom. The door clicked shut, and I heard the water start running.
I stood there for another minute, staring at nothing, before forcing myself to move. I needed to change out of these wet clothes. I needed to think. I needed—
I didn't know what I needed.
In my bedroom, I stripped off my soaked jacket and jeans, leaving them in a heap on the floor. My hands were shaking as I pulled on dry sweatpants and a T-shirt. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror—pale, red-eyed, hair plastered to my skull—and looked away quickly. I didn't want to see what I'd become.
My phone was still in my jacket pocket. I retrieved it, wiping the water off the screen with the edge of my T-shirt, and opened my laptop on the bed. The video call icon for Ethan sat there, waiting. I stared at it for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the button.
What was I supposed to say? How was I supposed to explain this?
But I needed him. I needed someone who wouldn't judge me, someone who would just listen and maybe, just maybe, help me make sense of the impossible tangle my life had become.
I hit the button.
The call connected almost immediately, and Ethan's face filled the screen. He was in his apartment, sitting on the couch in a worn T-shirt. His expression shifted the moment he saw me—concern blooming across his features, his brow furrowing as he leaned closer to the camera.
"Em?" His voice was soft, careful. "What happened?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but the words stuck in my throat. My vision blurred, and I realized I was crying again, silent tears spilling down my cheeks. I curled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them, and tried to pull myself together.
"Alex," I managed finally, my voice cracking. "Alex and I... we broke up."
Ethan's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything right away. He just watched me, his gaze steady and patient, waiting for me to find the words.
"He's gone," I continued, the sentences tumbling out now, disjointed and raw. "He kicked Mason out while I was at work, and I went to find him, and by the time I got back, Alex had sent me a message saying he couldn't do this anymore. That he was done."
"Em..." Ethan's voice was gentle, but I could hear the strain beneath it. "I'm sorry. I know how much he meant to you."
I shook my head, fresh tears streaming down my face. "I don't even know what I'm feeling right now. I'm just—I'm so angry at him for what he did, but I also... I miss him. And I hate that I miss him. And then there's Mason, and I—" My voice broke completely, and I buried my face in my knees, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
"Hey," Ethan said softly. "Hey, it's okay. You're allowed to feel all of that. It's okay."
I looked up at him through my tears, and the kindness in his eyes made something inside me crack open even wider. "Am I a bad person?" I whispered. "Am I... am I just greedy? Needy? Why isn't it enough to have you? Why did I need Alex? And now Mason—" I stopped myself, the words catching in my throat.
Ethan leaned back slightly, exhaling slowly. "Em, listen to me. You're not a bad person. You're not greedy. People have different needs, different ways of connecting. Some people need one person. Some people need more."
"But—"
"And," he continued, his voice firm, "everyone involved in this was a willing participant. Alex knew what he was signing up for. I knew. You didn't force anyone into anything. If Alex couldn't handle it, that's on him, not you."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to let his words sink in and wash away the guilt and the shame, but they clung to me like oil, slick and suffocating. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, trying to steady my breathing.
The bathroom door opened, and I heard Mason's soft footsteps on the hardwood floor. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him standing in the hallway, barefoot and shirtless, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. His hair was still damp, dripping water onto his shoulders, and his eyes were wide and uncertain.
"Emily?" he said quietly. "Is everything—"
He stopped when he saw me curled up on the bed, the laptop screen glowing in front of me. His gaze flicked to the screen, to Ethan's face watching him, and then back to me. For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Mason crossed the room slowly, his movements hesitant, and sat down on the edge of the bed beside me.
He didn't say anything. He just wrapped his arms around me, pulling me gently against his chest. His skin was warm from the shower, and I could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.
I should have pulled away. I should have told him to put on some clothes, to give me space, to stop looking at me like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. But I didn't.
Instead, I let him hold me, let his warmth seep into my skin, and closed my eyes.