The Screenwriter She Lost A Billionaire Romance

"Then that means, in her heart, someone else matters more than I do."

The line went silent for a beat.

I kept going.

"These past five years, you think I haven't had better offers? Harder choices to make?"

"But every single time, I chose her."

"I was willing to give things up. Why couldn't she follow through?"

I let out a quiet laugh.

"At the end of the day, I just wasn't worth it."

"So she doesn't deserve my love anymore, either."

"Savannah, stop pushing me. She and I are done."

"From now on, let someone else write her scripts."

Right then, the boarding announcement echoed through the terminal.

Savannah caught it. Her voice went taut with panic.

"Tristram, you're at the airport? Where are you going?"

I didn't want to answer. I moved to hang up.

But she must have seen it coming, because she cut in before I could.

"Don't hang up! Tristram, don't hang up!"

"There has to be a misunderstanding between you and Violet. Just wait. Let me get her on the phone so she can talk to you herself!"

But before the phone could even be handed over, Violet's icy voice sliced through.

"Didn't I say not to bother me unless it's an absolute emergency? Seth just got startled and barely fell asleep. If he wakes up, it'll be impossible to get him back down."

Savannah said my name.

"It's Tristram. He's at the airport right now. He says he wants to break—"

"Not even for Tristram."

Her voice turned weary.

"Tell him I'm dealing with something urgent. Whatever it is, it can wait until I'm home."

Savannah tried to speak again, but Violet shoved her out the door.

"Savannah, Tristram will understand. I'm exhausted right now. I just want to rest. Please stop making things worse, okay?"

Through the phone came the sharp slam of a door.

That sound hit me like a slap across the face, my cheeks burning.

So that was how little I mattered to Violet.

The last shred of sadness in my chest evaporated.

All that was left was the sheer absurdity of it all.

Five years.

I had spent five years throwing away better opportunities, again and again, for someone like her.

But not this time. I was done being a fool.

I murmured a quiet goodbye, powered off my phone, and turned toward the boarding gate.