Your Borrowed Life Expires After New Year

"Myra, I know you're upset, but I'm doing this for our future," Elias said, his tone softening slightly. "Once we make money, you can have whatever computer you want, as many flowers as you want. I'll buy them all for you."

He then reached for my hand like he always did.

But I stepped back, avoiding his touch. "I'm tired. I need to rest."

Without looking at any of them, I turned and walked out of the kitchen.

In the living room, Elias' relatives were still chatting loudly. The television blared a New Year's Eve countdown special.

I moved through the crowd, returned to our bedroom, and closed the door, shutting out everything beyond it.

I pulled out the donor consent form I'd already signed from the nightstand drawer. I stared at my name on the page, then picked up the scissors from the desk and cut it into pieces.

Then I took out my phone.

First, I messaged the wedding planner. "Hi, I need to cancel the wedding scheduled for next month. Please cancel the venue and all vendors. Keep the deposit."

Next, I opened the real estate app and contacted the agent who'd been helping us with our house. "Hi, the house is ready to list. I need a cash buyer. Price it ten percent below market. The faster it sells, the better."

Then, I booked a one-way ticket to Svalgard, leaving in three days.

After finishing everything, I lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

We'd ring in this New Year together. And after that, Elias' life—his future, his happiness with his family and his ex-girlfriend—would have nothing to do with me.

…

On New Year's Day, Elias left early in the morning with Jamie. They were going to look at investment opportunities, he said.

Claire invited her poker friends over. They set up in the dining room, their laughter filling the apartment.

The movers arrived right on time. I only packed my personal belongings, the furniture and appliances I'd bought, and everything from my studio—including all my design files and equipment. I didn't touch a single thing that belonged to Elias.

One of the movers asked, "Ma'am, what about the pre-wedding photos on the wall?"

I looked at the picture of myself smiling so happily and felt nothing but bitter irony. "Leave them."

Two hours later, half the apartment was empty. It looked bare and hollow.

I sat on the old couch that belonged to Elias–the only piece of furniture left in the living room—when the real estate agent called.

"Ms. Smith, you're in luck. A client who saw your place before is still interested. He can pay cash and wants to expedite everything.

"The buyer loved your property. He's just hoping you might be willing to come down a bit more on the price. What do you think?"

"Fine," I said without hesitation. "As long as we can sign the contract today."

At 3:00 pm, I walked into the real estate agency office. The moment I signed the contract and received the wire transfer confirmation, I felt a lightness I hadn't experienced in years.

The apartment I'd traded countless sleepless nights for was finally mine again, converted back into money that belonged only to me.

That evening, Elias and Jamie came home laughing together. When they saw the empty apartment, both of them froze.

"Did you get robbed?" Jamie gasped, covering her mouth in shock.

Elias looked around, his face turning ashen. He realized everything that belonged to me had vanished, while everything that belonged to him and Claire remained exactly where it was.

He bolted into the bedroom and found the note I'd left on his nightstand.

"I sold the house. We're even now."