I returned our home while he toured with her novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9

“He stood downstairs all night.” The next morning, my coworker told me. “Security said

he sat in the lobby till dawn, then left.”

I walked to the window. The entrance was empty.

At ten a.m., Kyler messaged. [I’m not giving up. Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be

waiting.]

At noon, Mia called. “Kyler asked me to tell you something.”

“What?”

“He said he deleted all of Seraphina’s contact info. Canceled their location sharing.

Cleared their chat history.”

“And?”

“He said he went to that little Italian place you two used to go to.”

My hand froze. That red-sauce joint tucked between a laundromat and a pawn shop.

Where he’d leaned across a checkered tablecloth in our first year and told me he wanted to

spend his life with me. Where he promised we’d come back every anniversary-and never did.

“He ate there and said something to the owner.”

“What?”

“He said, ‘Save me a seat. I’m coming every year from now on.”

I didn’t speak.

Mia sighed. “Wren, I know he put you through hell. But he really does seem to be

changing.”

“It doesn’t matter if he changes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not the same person who waited five years for him.”

At three p.m., Kyler appeared outside my office again. This time he didn’t come in-just

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stood across the street by the coffee shop. When I went down to grab a coffee, I saw him.

“You’re still here.”

“I told you. I’m waiting.”

“I have nothing to talk about.”

“But I do.” He pulled a thick envelope from his bag. “Read this.”

I opened it. Inside was a stack of handwritten pages. The title on the first page: What I

Owe Wren.

Beneath it, a list.

Item one: First anniversary-promised to take her for a red-sauce joint. Didn’t go.

Item two: First winter-promised to take her to Japan. Didn’t go. Took Seraphina.

Item three: Second birthday-forgot.

Item five: Third year-she asked for a cashmere scarf. Said it wasn’t necessary. Bought

one for Seraphina.

Item eight: She sent three photos of the home renovation. I didn’t reply to the third one.

Item twelve: She asked me to move a box of books. I said my back hurt. Moved a

cabinet for Seraphina.

Forty-seven items in total. He’d written out every single thing he owed me over five years.

On the last page, he’d written a paragraph. [After I listed these, I read them three times. I can’t believe this was me. Five years, forty-seven things.]

[Every one was something I promised her and never did or gave to Seraphina instead.

You never complained. So I thought you didn’t need any of it. But you did. You just never said

1. And I chose to believe you didn’t need it. That wasn’t carelessness. That was selfishness.]

I set the pages on the table. “How long did this take you?”

“Two days.”

“You could list forty-seven things in two days. That means you knew all along.”

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He didn’t deny it.

“You knew what you owed me, and every single time you still chose Seraphina. Not because you didn’t know-because you didn’t care.”

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