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When My Boyfriend Chose His Coworker Over Me Novel Cover

When My Boyfriend Chose His Coworker Over Me

Seated at a table dripping with luxury—crisp linens, flickering candles, a wine list that reads like a novel—she clings to her water glass, adrift in Kade's world. Eight months of unemployment make this dinner his quiet sacrifice. Across the table, Leslie radiates confidence in ivory, her smile a silent verdict. She is the outsider here, and the evening's true cost is only beginning to unfold.
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Chapter 5

I left through the side door. No goodbyes. No explanations. The two halves of the embroidery hoop sat at the bottom of my canvas tote, wrapped in a cloth napkin I'd taken from the table.

The night air hit my face. Cold. Sharp. I pulled my coat tighter and started walking.

The subway was two blocks east. I knew the route. I'd walked it dozens of times. But tonight the streets felt different. Darker. The buildings leaned in.

I heard them before I saw them.

Footsteps behind me. Multiple sets. Laughter that didn't sound friendly.

"Hey. Hey, sweetheart."

I didn't turn around. I walked faster.

"Don't be like that. We just wanna talk."

My heart slammed against my ribs. The subway entrance was still a block away. The streetlight ahead was out. The sidewalk narrowed.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. My hands were shaking so hard I almost dropped it.

I dialed Kade.

It rang.

The footsteps got closer.

"Come on, just stop for a second—"

It rang again.

I could see them now in the reflection of a shop window. Three of them. Maybe four. They were closing the distance.

Third ring.

"Kade," I whispered into the phone. "Please."

Fourth ring.

One of them reached out. His hand brushed my shoulder.

I spun around. My voice came out louder than I expected. Sharper.

"Back off!"

They stopped. For a second. Just a second.

The one in front grinned. "Relax. We're just being friendly."

"I said back off!"

My phone was still at my ear. Still ringing.

Then voicemail. Kade's voice, smooth and professional: *You've reached Kade Harrison. Leave a message.*

The beep sounded in my ear like the flatline of something dying.

I shoved the phone back in my pocket. I looked at the men. My chest was heaving. My hands were fists.

"Leave me alone," I said. My voice shook but it didn't break.

The one in front held up his hands. "Jesus. Fine. Crazy bitch."

They drifted away, laughing. Their voices faded down the block.

I stood there. My legs felt like water.

A storefront was behind me. Dark glass. A closed boutique. I pressed my back against it and slid down until I was sitting on the cold pavement.

My tote bag was still on my shoulder. I pulled it into my lap and reached inside. My fingers found the cloth napkin. I unwrapped it.

The two halves of the hoop sat in my hands. The wood was smooth. The break was clean.

I ran my thumb along the edge where it had split.

My mother made this. She carved it by hand. She gave it to me the year before she died.

Kade called it just a piece of wood.

He didn't pick up the phone.

I sat on that bench for a long time. The cold seeped through my coat. My breath made clouds in the air. People walked past. No one stopped.

I thought about the apartment. The way Kade's shoes were always by the door. The way his jacket hung on the chair. The way he poured whiskey and turned on the TV and asked if there was coffee.

I thought about Leslie's note. *Domestic partnership paperwork.*

I thought about the rooftop bar. The housing benefit. The residency.

I thought about the showcase. The way he looked at me kneeling on the floor. The way he told me not to make a scene.

I thought about three years.

Three years of cooking his meals. Managing his apartment. Networking on his behalf. Swallowing my pride. Hiding my work. Making myself smaller.

Three years of waiting for him to see me.

He never did.

I stood. My legs were stiff. My hands were numb.

I wrapped the hoop back in the napkin and put it in my tote. Then I started walking.

Not toward the subway. Not toward the apartment.

Toward Penn Station.

The decision didn't feel like a decision. It felt like something that had already happened. Like I was just catching up to it.

I pulled out my phone. My fingers were clumsy on the screen. I found the Amtrak app. Charleston. Next available.

There was a train at 11:47 p.m. One seat left.

I bought the ticket.

Then I kept walking.

The station was bright. Fluorescent. People dragged suitcases and stared at departure boards. I found a bench near the track entrance and sat down.

My phone buzzed.

Kade: *Where are you? You left without saying anything.*

I stared at the message. My thumb hovered over the keyboard.

Then I turned the phone off.

I sat there with my tote bag in my lap and the broken hoop inside it and waited for the train that would take me home.

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