He Kept a Cat for Her And Killed Our Baby,He Lost Me Forever

On the train home for the long holiday weekend, my suitcase jammed in the gap between the seats, and no matter how I yanked, it wouldn't budge.

Someone behind me reached out and lifted it free with one easy motion.

"A month of the silent treatment, and you still haven't talked yourself out of your mood?"

It was Phineas Sanchez, my childhood sweetheart.

He leaned against the side of the aisle, a cold little smile at the corner of his mouth.

I paused, and ignored him.

Unhurried, he stepped past me and kept walking, his voice lazy.

"Greta Fox, you've never lasted more than three days in a standoff before. This one's a record."

In the line at the exit, I tapped into a post titled "I Wronged a Girl 99 Times."

"The first time: out in public, I never held her hand, and the second I saw someone I knew, I let go of her. I'm sorry."

"The second time: whenever there was a problem, I ran from it and went cold on her. I watched her cry so many times and never once comforted her. I'm sorry."

"The third time: because of my selfishness, she took the morning-after pill four times in one week. I'm sorry."

"……"

"The ninety-ninth time: when she brought up marriage, I made her get rid of the baby. I'm sorry."

Underneath were comments.

"Every single line of this just gutted me."

"Guys don't reflect on stuff like this, so you're that girl, aren't you?"

I lifted my eyes. A little way ahead, Phineas's back was still as familiar as ever, still searing to look at.

Then I liked that comment.

The page refreshed, and beneath the comment it showed: "Liked by the author."

Phineas would never reflect, never apologize.

So this time, I wasn't going to look back either.

——

Outside the station, the rain came down harder and harder.

The rideshare app showed forty-seven people ahead of me in the queue.

Phineas's buddy had picked him up, and as the car passed in front of me, the buddy leaned out and called to me.

"Greta, get in. This rain isn't letting up anytime soon."

I didn't move.

The back window came down too. Phineas turned his head and looked at me, his tone flat. "Get in."

I turned my face away and pretended I hadn't heard.

His buddy gave a little laugh and teased, "Whoa. Quite the temper this time. Phineas, what'd you do to her?"

Phineas's gaze landed on me for two seconds. Then he spoke.

"Greta, the station's twelve miles from your place. You planning to walk?"

"I'll take a cab."

He held up his phone and laughed out loud. "Forty-seven people in line. You'll be waiting till tomorrow morning."

"That's my business."

The air went quiet for a beat.

His buddy smoothed it over. "All right, all right, Greta, just get in, we're all family here—"

"Who said she's family?"

Phineas said it suddenly, his voice neither soft nor sharp.

The window rolled up. His face had darkened.

"Drive."

The car pulled away.

An hour later, I finally got a cab.

Soaked through, shivering with cold.

My phone buzzed. A message from Phineas.

"It's just a cat. I already sent it back to my mom's to take care of. Is all this really necessary?"

I looked away, leaned against the window, and watched the rain run down the glass.

Our standoffs had never lasted this long before.

Three days, at most, before I'd find some excuse to text him.

Ask if he'd eaten. Ask if he was in a good mood.

He'd reply with a single "Mm," and I'd be happy for half the day, thinking he was finally willing to pay attention to me.

Lowly, ground down to dust.

But this time was different.

He was allergic to cat dander. All my life I'd begged him to let us have a cat together, and every time he'd said he couldn't.

Yet the moment Lacey was going abroad for a month, he carried that ragdoll cat back to his own apartment.

Took a whole box of allergy meds, and not a single word of complaint.