PART 3
Nobody knew my history.
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Nobody knew I had spent three years trying to make a relationship work.
Nobody knew I had apologized for things that weren’t my fault.
Nobody knew how many nights I had stared at my phone waiting for one person to decide whether I was worth answering.
Here, I was simply Paula.
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No girlfriend.
No almost-fiancée.
No woman waiting for a man to choose her.
Just Paula.
I walked to the door.
When I opened it, Matthew was standing there holding a paper bag.
“Morning.”
I looked at the bag.
“What’s that?”
“Breakfast.”
I blinked.
“You don’t know me.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you bring me breakfast?”
He shrugged.
“Because you moved in yesterday with two suitcases and slept on the floor.”
I looked down.
“How do you know I slept on the floor?”
“Your lights were on until almost three.”
I stared at him.
“You were watching my apartment?”
He laughed.
“No. My apartment happens to face your windows.”
He held out the bag.
“Coffee, bagel, fruit. Nothing complicated.”
I hesitated before taking it.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He turned around.
Then he stopped.
“Oh, and Paula?”
“Yeah?”
“You don’t have to tell me what happened.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Whatever made you leave.”
His voice was casual.
“You don’t have to explain it just because we’re neighbors.”
Something inside me went quiet.
Adrian had always wanted explanations.
Why was I upset?
Why was I quiet?
Why did I need reassurance?
Why couldn’t I trust him?
Why did I ask so many questions?
But Matthew had known me for less than twelve hours.
And he already understood something Adrian never had.
Sometimes people don’t need interrogation.
Sometimes they just need space.
“Thank you,” I said again.
He nodded.
“See you around, Lois Lane.”
Then he walked away.
I closed the door.
I looked at the paper bag.
And for the first time since I had left Adrian, I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because it felt strange.
Life was still moving.
Even after heartbreak.
Even after humiliation.
Even after the person you thought was your future publicly replaced you.
The world didn’t stop.
The sun still rose.
Coffee still smelled good.
And somewhere in another city, Adrian Shaw was probably waking up expecting a message from me.
He was going to be disappointed.
Very disappointed.
At 8:13 that morning, Adrian woke up.
His birthday was two days away.
He reached for his phone without opening his eyes.
Nothing.
He frowned.
He checked the screen again.
No messages.
No missed calls.
No notifications.
He unlocked Instagram.
His post from the night before had already received thousands of views.
Hundreds of comments.
He smiled.
Sophia was asleep beside him.
Adrian turned toward her.
“You’re famous.”
She opened one eye.
“What?”
“Look.”
He showed her the post.
Sophia smiled.
“People are obsessed.”
Adrian laughed.
Then he looked at the comments.
Mark had sent him a private message.
MARK:
Bro, where’s Paula?
Adrian typed back.
ADRIAN:
Probably having her little dramatic moment.
MARK:
She hasn’t commented.
ADRIAN:
She’ll call.
Mark replied almost immediately.
MARK:
You sure?
Adrian stared at the message.
Then typed:
ADRIAN:
It’s Paula.
He put the phone down.
He wasn’t worried.
Not yet.
Because for three years, Paula had always returned.
After every fight.
Every disagreement.
Every breakup.
Every silent treatment.
She always came back.
Sometimes after an hour.
Sometimes after a day.
Once, after almost a week.
But she always came back.
Adrian believed it wasn’t because he had treated her well.
He believed it was because she couldn’t live without him.
That belief had become one of the most dangerous things in his life.
Because people often mistake someone’s patience for permanent availability.
They think:
She’ll forgive me.
She always does.
She’ll come back.
She always does.
Until one day…
She doesn’t.
At 9:30, Adrian checked his phone again.
Nothing.
At 10:15, still nothing.
At 11:42, he opened their old chat.
He scrolled upward.
Three years of messages.
Photos.
Arguments.
Apologies.
Inside jokes.
Good mornings.
Good nights.
“I miss you.”
“Call me when you get home.”
“Did you eat?”
“Happy anniversary.”
Then he reached the final message.
The one from a month ago.
PAULA:
I messed up. Please don’t ignore me.
He stared at it.
He suddenly remembered what had happened that night.
Paula had left the party after seeing Sophia sitting beside him.
Adrian had stayed.
Sophia had cried.
He had comforted her.
And then they had crossed a line neither of them had bothered to explain afterward.
Adrian had told himself that the relationship with Paula was already over anyway.
It was easier that way.
But the truth was much uglier.
He hadn’t ended the relationship.
He had simply stopped trying while expecting Paula to keep trying for both of them.
Now he typed:
ADRIAN:
Paula?
He stared at the message.
Then he sent another.
ADRIAN:
We need to talk.
One gray check.
He waited.
Nothing.
He tried calling.
The call didn’t connect.
He frowned.
He called again.
Nothing.
He checked her Instagram.
The account was gone.
Twitter.
Gone.
TikTok.
Gone.
Reddit.
Gone.
He searched her name.
Nothing.
Adrian sat upright.
“That’s weird.”
Sophia turned toward him.
“What?”
“Paula deleted everything.”
Sophia shrugged.
“Maybe she’s trying to get attention.”
Adrian looked at her.
“She changed her number.”
Sophia sat up.
“How do you know?”
“I called.”
Sophia’s expression changed.
For the first time, she looked uncomfortable.
“Maybe she really wants to move on.”
Adrian didn’t answer.
Because that possibility had never occurred to him.
Two hours later, Adrian called Paula’s former workplace.
Her boss answered.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Carter, this is Adrian Shaw. I’m trying to reach Paula.”
There was silence.
Then:
“She doesn’t work here anymore.”
Adrian’s stomach tightened.
“I know she resigned, but I need to know where she went.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t give you that information.”
“You don’t understand. She’s my girlfriend.”
Another silence.
Then the boss said quietly:
“She told me you two broke up.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“We had an argument.”
“She didn’t call it an argument.”
“What did she call it?”
The boss hesitated.
“A breakup.”
The line went silent.
Adrian hung up.
He looked at Sophia.
“She told everyone we broke up.”
Sophia crossed her arms.
“Maybe because you did.”
Adrian stared at her.
“What?”
“You posted me.”
“So?”
“You wrote ‘for the rest of my life.’”
“Yeah.”
“And you expected your girlfriend to see that?”
Adrian looked away.
“She wasn’t supposed to be my girlfriend anymore.”
Sophia’s voice became quieter.
“Then why are you trying to find her?”
Adrian didn’t answer.
Because he didn’t know.
He only knew one thing.
He had expected Paula to chase him.
Instead, she had disappeared.
In my new apartment, I was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a laptop balanced on my knees.
I had spent the morning searching for jobs.
I didn’t want to work in another office where I knew everyone.
I wanted something different.
Something that belonged to me.
After two hours, I found a small project-management company hiring an administrative coordinator.
The salary was slightly lower than my old job.
But the position offered remote work three days a week.
I sent my résumé.
Ten minutes later, I received an email.
We’d like to interview you tomorrow.
I stared at the screen.
Then I laughed.
“Okay.”
One door had closed.
Another one had opened.
Maybe life wasn’t punishing me.
Maybe it was redirecting me.
At noon, I walked downstairs to find a grocery store.
I had almost nothing in my kitchen.
Halfway down the stairs, I heard footsteps behind me.
“You’re going to the store?”
I turned.
Matthew.
“Yeah.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know.”
He laughed.
“You really don’t know anything about this neighborhood, do you?”
“No.”
“Come on.”
“Where?”
“I’ll show you.”
We walked three blocks.
He pointed out the pharmacy.
The grocery store.
A laundromat.
A bakery.
A small park.
A coffee shop.
A bus stop.
He explained which streets flooded when it rained and which restaurant had the best noodles.
He didn’t ask about Adrian.
Not once.
When we reached the grocery store, he handed me a shopping cart.
“Welcome to civilization.”
I laughed.
“You make it sound like I came from the wilderness.”
“Two suitcases, no bed, no groceries.”
He looked at me.
“Pretty much.”
For the first time in weeks, I laughed without forcing it.
And I realized something.
Maybe happiness didn’t always arrive dramatically.
Maybe sometimes it was just a stranger showing you where to buy milk.
That evening, I cooked pasta.
It wasn’t good.
Actually, it was terrible.
I had forgotten to add salt.
The sauce was too thick.
The noodles were slightly burned.
I sat at the tiny kitchen table and stared at the plate.
Then I laughed again.
“At least nobody is going to complain.”
There was a knock.
I opened the door.
Matthew stood there.
“I smelled something burning.”
I looked at my plate.
“That’s dinner.”
He smiled.
“Should I call the fire department?”
I laughed.
“Very funny.”
He looked at the food.
“Did you cook?”
“Yes.”
“Brave.”
“Do you want some?”
He paused.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
I pushed his shoulder.
“Go away.”
He laughed.
“Good night, Lois Lane.”
“Good night, Matthew.”
He walked away.
I closed the door.
And somehow, my apartment didn’t feel so empty anymore.
Meanwhile, Adrian’s birthday arrived.
At 12:01 a.m., he checked his phone.
Nothing.
12:30.
Nothing.
1:17.
Nothing.
The exact time he had posted Sophia’s picture two nights earlier.
He stared at the clock.
He remembered his own comment.
“I bet the day after tomorrow, she’ll panic and come back crying.”
It was now the day after tomorrow.
And Paula hadn’t come back.
At 7:00 a.m., his mother called.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Is Paula coming tonight?”
Adrian went silent.
His mother noticed.
“What happened?”
“We’re not together.”
“What?”
“She hasn’t talked to me.”
“Since when?”
“A month.”
“Adrian!”
He pulled the phone away from his ear.
“What?”
“You told me you were fixing things.”
“I thought we were.”
His mother’s voice became colder.
“Did you do something?”
Adrian looked at Sophia sleeping on the couch.
He said nothing.
His mother sighed.
“Son.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“You’d better.”
She hung up.
At 8:45, Mark called.
“Happy birthday, man.”
“Thanks.”
“So…”
“So what?”
“Are you going to tell me what happened with Paula?”
Adrian frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“She vanished.”
“I know.”
“You posted Sophia.”
“I know.”
“You really thought Paula was going to come crawling back after that?”
Adrian’s voice hardened.
“Everyone knows Paula always comes back.”
Mark was quiet.
Then he said:
“Maybe that’s what you got wrong.”
Adrian hung up.
He didn’t want to hear it.
But the words stayed.
That afternoon, Adrian drove to Paula’s old apartment.
He knocked.
Nobody answered.
He knocked again.
The landlady opened the door.
“Mr. Shaw?”
“Where is Paula?”
The woman looked uncomfortable.
“She moved.”
“When?”
“Two days ago.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“She returned the keys.”
Adrian looked inside.
The apartment was empty.
Completely empty.
No clothes.
No photographs.
No shoes.
No toothbrush beside the bathroom sink.
Nothing.
He walked into the bedroom.
There was one small mark on the wall where Paula had once hung a framed photograph of them.
He remembered helping her hang it.
She had stood behind him laughing while he struggled with the nail.
Three years.
Reduced to an empty room.
He turned to the landlady.
“Did she leave anything?”
“No.”
“Not even a note?”
The landlady shook her head.
“She seemed very calm.”
Adrian swallowed.
“She didn’t cry?”
“No.”
“She didn’t ask me to come?”
“No.”
He stood there.
For the first time, he understood.
She hadn’t left to make him chase her.
She had left because she was finished.
And that realization frightened him more than any argument ever had.
Three days later, I got the job.
I sat on the floor of my apartment staring at the email.
Congratulations, Paula. We’d like to offer you the position.
I whispered:
“Yes.”
Then I started crying.
Not because I was sad.
Because for the first time, I had achieved something without needing Adrian to celebrate it.
I didn’t need to call anyone.
I didn’t need to send a picture.
I didn’t need to hear:
“I’m proud of you.”
I was proud of myself.
That evening, Matthew knocked.
I opened the door.
He looked at me.
“Good news?”
I smiled.
“I got a job.”
He grinned.
“I knew you would.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Neither did you.”
I stared at him.
He continued:
“But you’re starting to.”
Something about that sentence stayed with me.
I had spent three years trying to convince another person to see my value.
Now I was finally learning to see it myself.
Two weeks passed.
I built a routine.
Work.
Groceries.
Cooking.
Walking.
Reading.
Sleeping.
Sometimes Matthew and I had coffee.
Sometimes we talked in the hallway.
Sometimes we didn’t see each other at all.
There was no pressure.
No games.
No jealousy.
No silent treatment.
No wondering where I stood.
It was peaceful.
Almost frighteningly peaceful.
Then one Friday afternoon, I received an email from an unknown address.
The subject line contained only my name.
PAULA.
I opened it.
There was one sentence.
You need to know what really happened between Adrian and Sophia.
My heart stopped.
Below it was an attachment.
A photograph.
I stared at it.
Then I opened the image.
It was taken at the party one month earlier.
The night everything had changed.
But it wasn’t the picture I remembered.
This one showed something I hadn’t seen.
Adrian and Sophia standing outside behind the house.
And Sophia was holding something.
A small envelope.
My name was written across it.
I zoomed in.
My hands began to shake.
Because suddenly I understood.
The night I had walked away…
Hadn’t been the beginning of the betrayal.
It had been the moment someone wanted me to see.
Someone had wanted me to leave.
And there was a reason.
A reason Adrian had never told me.
I looked at the attachment again.
Then at the sender’s name.
My blood ran cold.
Because the email hadn’t come from Sophia.
It hadn’t come from Adrian.
It had come from someone whose name I hadn’t seen in three years.
Someone from Adrian’s past.
Someone who knew a secret I had never known.
And beneath the photograph was one final sentence:
If you want the truth, don’t trust Adrian. Don’t trust Sophia. And whatever you do, don’t go back to the apartment.
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4…
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