Exhausted by Seven Years of Their Drama

When Finn left, he forgot his phone on the bar.

The screen lit up. I glanced over and saw a message from Amanda.

[Who were you glaring at? In a rush to prove your loyalty to your perfect little girlfriend?]

[You're so ungrateful! Who was the one who took you street racing in the garage to blow off steam when you screwed up that deal for the family and the Old Man punished you?]

I reached out, picked up the phone, and unlocked it. The password hadn't changed. It was still my birthday.

I opened his chat with Amanda.

The chat history was endless. They talked every single day.

[Ordered you a whole box of sexy lingerie. Extra small, to make you look bigger. So you won't feel so insecure.]

[You should stuff your bra first, flat-chest.]

[You didn't send anyone to mess up my turf today. Guess you've grown up?]

[Count your lucky stars. Consider it a mercy from me!]

It was all meaningless nonsense, but Finn replied to every single message.

If not instantly, then only a few minutes later.

He met every provocation, engaged in every argument.

It was charged, fiery, and full of life.

My chat log was buried at the bottom of a long list of contacts.

The day before yesterday, I had sent him a picture of the pasta I'd made.

[The pasta I made today turned out great. I'll make it for you when you get home from work.]

He never replied. I scrolled up.

A song I'd shared, thinking he'd like it. Photos I'd taken of the sunrise and sunset from our window. I had even sent a simple [I miss you a lot tonight].

All of it had gone unanswered, without a single word in response.

His time was too precious. He was always in meetings, at social functions, handling disputes, settling turf wars.

He was so busy he barely had time to look at his phone, only to steal a quick glance now and then.

I never complained. I only hoped that these little pieces of my day might help him unwind.

I just never imagined that his few moments of downtime were spent on Amanda. On arguing.

To maintain a connection he always claimed was "so damn annoying."

Outside the window, the night waves crashed against the rocks, churning up a ghostly white foam.

The beautiful scenery reminded me, strangely, that he and I had also met by the sea.

I was working a night job at the docks to pay for my tuition, so tired after moving cargo that I could barely stand.

I looked up and saw a man sitting on a large rock, smiling at me.

It was a bad-boy smile, but it made my heart pound.

I had thought it was fate's gift to me. Looking back now, I was so naive.

The door opened and Finn returned. He saw the phone had been moved and his steps faltered for a second.

"So you went through my phone. Now you can relax, right?"

He sounded casual, almost righteous, as if there was nothing wrong.

As if my ignored messages, their heated exchanges, and the heart I had so carefully offered him were all insignificant.

In that instant, I understood. In his heart, my feelings, my disappointment, were never enough to make him panic.

I didn't answer him.

His brow tightened, and his voice took on a harder edge.

"Are you still angry about that condom? You know what kind of psycho she is. You know how I operate."

He walked over, pulled out his phone, and held a video up for me to see.

"She planted it herself. It's all on the hallway security camera."

He was waiting for my reaction, for me to be the understanding girl I'd always been.

To close the video, curl up in his arms, and admit that I had been overthinking things.

But I just stared into his eyes, my voice calm. "Understood."

He let out a cold scoff, snatched the phone back, and hit play.

On the screen, Amanda did indeed slip the small square into his suit jacket as she passed the coat rack.

"See? Satisfied?"

"I didn't do anything. Chloe, it's been seven years. You don't even have that little bit of trust in me?"

"Yeah."

"So let's break up."

He froze, not quite processing it, as if he had misheard.

After a long moment, he threw the phone onto the sofa, his eyes filling with furious red veins.

"What more do I have to do to make you happy? You're the only woman I have. I've given you the title, you can use my cards whenever you want, I've given you the best protection."

"Chloe, what more do you want? This angst of yours is suffocating me!"

"What do you think our problem is?! Just say it! What do you want? Just ask!"

Just as I was about to speak, Mia burst through the door, her face pale.

"Finn, Amanda… she's downstairs in the lobby playing strip poker with some of your guys. One piece of clothing for every lost hand. Right now…"

"She's down to her lace underwear. No one can get her to stop."

Finn's face instantly darkened. He was in such a rush he didn't even spare me a glance before turning to leave.

His jacket was still draped over the sofa. He didn't even grab it.

The door slammed shut with a heavy thud.

See? This is the problem.

She will always be the one he drops everything for.

And I will always be the one left behind.