Her mouth opened, then closed. "Guess what? That chapter's over. The book's closed. You don't get to reread it just because the new one was a paragraph."
A tear spilled down her cheek. "Liam, I'm not angry." I said. "I'm not hurt. You're just not my life anymore."
She stood there, frozen, her rehearsed speech crumbling into silence. For a moment, I saw something flicker across her face. Not anger, not sadness, but understanding. The realization that she had no leverage, no power, no place in my world. I didn't wait for a response.
I turned and walked back toward the grill, where Alex was flipping burgers and Derek was arguing about some football game. Alex glanced at me as I approached. "Everything okay?" "Yeah." I said.
"Hey, did you try the potato salad? It's incredible." He grinned, and the conversation moved on. From the corner of my eye, I saw Rachel appear at Jenna's side. Jenna was wiping her face, her shoulders hunched.
Rachel shot me a dirty look. I didn't care. I didn't care about any of it. A few minutes later, they left. No dramatic exit, no slammed gate, just two people walking away from a party they'd never really belonged at.
The barbecue wound down around 6:00. I helped Alex clean up, stacking chairs and hauling trash bags to the cans by the garage. It was the kind of mindless work that feels satisfying after a good day, the body moving while the mind rests. On the drive home, I rolled down my windows. The evening air was cooling, carrying the smell of cut grass and someone's distant bonfire.
I didn't turn on the radio. I didn't need noise. I thought about Jenna. Not in the way I used to think about her. Not with longing or anger or unfinished business.
I thought about her the way you think about a storm you once got caught in years ago. It happened. It was hard, and then it passed, and the sky cleared, and you kept walking. I wasn't bitter. I wasn't triumphant.
I was just done. When I got home, I parked in my usual spot, walked up the stairs to my apartment, and unlocked the door. The place was quiet. My place. No throw pillows I hadn't chosen.
No framed photos hidden in drawers. No ghost of anyone lingering in the corners. I kicked off my shoes, poured a glass of water, and stood at the window watching the sky fade from blue to orange to gray. Once I thought losing her would break me. It had felt, on that Sunday, like something vital had been torn out of me and tossed aside without a second thought.
But here I was, still standing, still whole, still moving forward. And she was just a stranger who'd once sat across from me at a table that didn't exist anymore. I finished my water. I went to bed early, and I slept better than I had in months.