Later, Chloe texted, asking to meet.
We met at a small diner near the lake. She looked wrecked — mascara smudged, eyes red.
“Lena, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “It just happened. Ethan said you two were taking a break—”
I laughed bitterly. “A break? We were buying a house, Chloe.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “He told me you didn’t love him anymore.”
“That’s the thing about Ethan,” I said quietly. “He tells people what they need to hear to get what he wants.”
When she reached across the table, I pulled my hand away.
“You weren’t just my friend,” I said. “You were family. And you burned ten years of trust.”
I left her there, crying into her coffee. “We’re done, Chloe. Don’t call me again.”
Outside, the night air was cold against my face. I felt empty but strangely free.
