He Called Me Needy, Then Lost

Bailey Glass POV:

"The number you are trying to reach has been blocked." The notification on August' s phone, unheard by me, was my final declaration. My last act of self-preservation.

I sat in the waiting room at the hospital, my phone buzzing relentlessly in my purse. I knew it was August. I could feel his frantic energy through the vibrations. But I didn't answer. I didn't even look. I just let it ring, then blocked his number. Then, I deleted him from my social media, severing the last digital ties. A strange, liberating calm washed over me. It was done. Truly, finally done.

Just as my name flashed on the screen, indicating it was my turn, a figure burst through the swinging doors of the private clinic. August. He scanned the room, his eyes frantic, then landed on me.

He walked over, his expression a mix of relief and anger. He reached for my arm, a familiar gesture of ownership, but I flinched away before he could touch me.

"Bailey," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Why aren't you answering your phone? Why did you block me?"

"I don't owe you an explanation, August," I said, my voice flat, devoid of emotion.

He scoffed, a nervous habit. "Don't be dramatic. What's wrong? Are you sick?" A flicker of genuine concern crossed his face. "Is it serious?"

"No," I said, rising to my feet. "I'm fine. I'm just here for a check-up."

He grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly tight. "A check-up? What kind of check-up? Bailey, tell me what's going on." There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

"It's nothing," I said, trying to pull my hand away. "Just a routine thing."

"Routine?" His eyes, usually so expressive, were clouded with confusion. "You never come here for 'routine' check-ups. Are you hiding something from me?" His voice hardened, a hint of accusation creeping in.

"It's none of your business anymore, August," I said, my voice rising slightly.

"None of my business?" He laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Everything about you is my business, Bailey. We're together."

"We're not," I corrected him, my voice firm. "We broke up. You remember? Two days ago. In our apartment. Or rather, my apartment now."

His face darkened. "Don't be ridiculous. You say that every time we fight. It's just a phase. Let's talk about it, properly, when you're not... whatever this is." He gestured vaguely at the clinic, implying I was being irrational.

My name flashed again, brighter this time. "Bailey Glass, Dr. Evans will see you now."

"I have to go," I said, pulling my arm free. I didn't look at him, just marched towards the door.

He followed, his footsteps heavy behind me. "Bailey, wait! I'm coming in with you."

I reached the door, pushing it open. Just as I stepped inside, I turned, meeting his gaze. "No, you're not," I said, my voice cold and clear. Then, I slammed the door shut, leaving him on the outside, exactly where he belonged.