1 On our seventh anniversary, I was locked out of the house I owned. I pressed my thumb against the biometric lock. It beeped three times. Verification Failed. I figured my hands were just too cold, so I typed in the passcode. Incorrect Passcode. A second later, a notification popped up on my phone from the smart lock app. Administrator has deleted user: Evan. Administrator has added user: Jordan. I stood on the porch, listening to the soft footsteps approaching from inside. The door opened. My girlfriend’s assistant was standing there, wearing one of my dress shirts. “Evan, do not misunderstand,” he said quickly. “I have been dealing with a stalker recently. Savannah was worried about my safety, so she let me crash here for a few days.” Savannah walked out of the living room, a frown already forming on her face. “Why are you just standing in the doorway? The wind is freezing. Jordan is already coming down with a cold.” I looked down at the takeout bag in my hand. I had driven halfway across the city just to buy her favorite lobster ravioli. Suddenly, it felt like a pathetic joke. Without saying a word, I turned around and walked toward the elevator. Before it arrived, my front door opened again. Savannah hurried out with a coat and draped it over my shoulders. The movement was completely natural. Just like the countless times over the last seven years when she would take my laptop bag after an all nighter and gently wrap a scarf around my neck. “It is pouring out there. Do not catch a cold.” My fingers twitched. For a split second, my heart almost softened. But then she glanced back toward our door and lowered her voice. “Jordan was really shaken up tonight. Stop acting so cold and hostile. Do not trigger his anxiety.” “Just go sleep at a hotel tonight.” I looked up at her face. I saw exhaustion. I saw deep annoyance. But I did not see a single ounce of guilt. Today was the exact date we moved in together seven years ago. This entire year, she was busy fighting for bids while I was buried in design proposals. We barely had time to sit down and eat a meal together. So half a month ago, I pushed back all my client meetings, booked an exclusive restaurant, and bought her a gift. But at the very last minute, she canceled on me with a single phone call. I could hear Jordan crying hysterically in the background while she told me there was an emergency she had to handle. I believed her. After work, I drove out of my way to buy the ravioli. I figured even if she was busy, we could at least share a warm meal at home to celebrate. I never expected that when I finally got home, my own front door would reject me. And her “emergency” was bringing her male assistant home to live in our house. I looked down at my hands. During our first year living together, I stayed up late finishing a retail space design. I came home at two in the morning, forgot my keys, and fell asleep on the freezing hallway floor waiting for her. I ended up with a hundred and four degree fever. Savannah had rushed back from a construction site, her eyes red with tears when she saw me. The very next day, she spent hours installing that smart lock, holding my hand as we scanned my fingerprint over and over. “From now on, this door only recognizes the two of us.” At the time, I laughed and told her she was being dramatic, but deep down, I was incredibly happy. Jordan’s timid voice drifted out from the apartment. “Savannah, maybe I should just go.” Savannah turned her head, her tone instantly softening into something gentle. “Do not be ridiculous. It is not safe for you out there. You are staying right here.” Her gentleness felt like a tiny, sharp needle pressing directly into my heart. “Evan,” she said, rubbing her temples. “Jordan did not delete your fingerprint on purpose. He just pressed the wrong button on the app.” “What about the passcode?” I asked. She paused for a moment. “I changed it.” “He has a stalker. I changed the code to make him feel safer.” I let out a dry, bitter laugh. “So you went through all that trouble just to keep me out?” Savannah frowned, her patience thinning. “Can you have a little empathy? He is just crashing here for a few days. It is just a fingerprint. Once he leaves, I will add yours right back in.” When I did not respond, Savannah assumed I was finally giving in. She softened her voice. “Just tough it out for one night. I will come pick you up from the hotel tomorrow morning.” I looked straight into her eyes. “Savannah, do you even remember what today is?” She froze. A few seconds later, she actively avoided my gaze. I cleared my entire evening. I booked the restaurant. I bought the gift. On the drive home, I even debated whether tonight was the right time to talk about getting married. But all she said was, “We can make up for the celebration later. Jordan is genuinely terrified right now.” “Evan, please do not make this difficult for me.” “Fine,” I said. Savannah visibly let out a breath of relief. “I am glad you are being reasonable. I will have my assistant book you a room.” “Do not bother.” I pulled the coat off my shoulders and handed it back to her. “I will book it myself.” She did not take the coat. Her face returned to that familiar, soothing warmth. “I have plenty of coats inside, keep that one on. Jordan is in there alone, and since the stalking incident, he panics when he is isolated. I need to go back in. You have always been the mature one, please do not make this harder than it has to be.” I watched her turn and practically jog back to the door. I felt a bizarre wave of absolute calm wash over me. “Do not worry, Savannah. I will never make things difficult for you again.” I dropped the coat straight into the trash can by the elevator. At two in the morning, I knocked on my best friend Liam’s door. He opened it, stared at my rain soaked clothes, and blinked in confusion. “Weren’t you supposed to have an anniversary dinner with Savannah?” I could not form the words. Liam did not push. He just pulled me inside and poured me a hot cup of tea. When I came out of the shower, he was leaning against the kitchen counter, watching me. “Since you are here, I might as well ask. Did you make a decision on the Oak Street Bookstore project?” I gripped the warm mug and went completely quiet. He was asking if I was finally ready to take on a commercial design project as the lead architect under my own name. He had tried to convince me dozens of times over the years, but I always turned him down. Because I always felt like Savannah could not survive without me. In every single project, she drew the skeleton, and I filled in the flesh and blood. When we first started the firm, we didn’t even have a real conference room. We rented the top floor of a crumbling office building. The roof leaked when it rained, the wind howled through the windows in winter, and the printer broke every three days. Once, to meet a deadline, I stayed up for two days straight. When I finally woke up at four in the morning, Savannah’s jacket was draped over me. She was kneeling on the cold floor, carefully picking up all my scattered material samples one by one. When she saw I was awake, she pressed a hot cup of coffee into my hands. “Evan.” She looked at me with fierce determination. “You are the most brilliant designer I have ever met.” “I can build the structure, but you are the one who turns it into a place where people actually want to stay.” As the sun slowly rose outside the window that morning, I felt invincible. That project went on to win a major industry award. Backstage at the ceremony, Savannah held my hand tight and whispered: “One day, we will have our own massive firm. Our names will always be side by side.” So ever since then, I willingly stood in her shadow. When she fell behind on blueprints, I stayed up all night to finish them. When clients demanded impossible last minute changes, I went in to smooth things over. But when we won our biggest award this year, the very first name Savannah mentioned in her speech was Jordan. I was the one who hired Jordan into the firm. But whenever I took him to construction sites, he complained about the dust and the dirt. Six months ago, Savannah took him to a client pitch meeting. He presented the concept deck I had stayed up until three in the morning perfecting. The client praised him for having “raw talent.” After that day, he completely refused to return to my team. He glued himself to Savannah’s side. Now, everyone in the company whispered that Jordan was Savannah’s personal protégé, a rising star she had hand trained. Liam let out a heavy sigh. “You are a full partner at the firm, Evan. You are not Savannah’s accessory.” In the past, I would have laughed it off and changed the subject. But this time, I gave a slow, deliberate nod. “You are right.” I looked up at him. “Tell the client I will be the lead designer for the Oak Street Bookstore.” The next day at noon, I went back to the office to pack up my reference materials. Jordan was standing right next to my desk. He pushed a cup of premium coffee toward me. “Evan, I am so sorry about last night.” “Savannah only missed your dinner because she was helping me look through security footage.” He paused, lowering his voice to sound perfectly innocent. “She told me you were the most forgiving person she knows, and that you would definitely understand.” I slid my documents into my briefcase. “Okay.” Jordan froze. At that exact moment, Savannah walked out of the glass conference room and placed a glass of warm milk on his desk. “Didn’t you say your stomach was acting up? Drink this.” Jordan shot me a timid, nervous look. “Savannah, I think Evan is still mad at me. I tried asking him about the new project, but he gave me the cold shoulder.” Savannah finally turned to look at me, her expression a mix of surprise and irritation. “I thought we cleared everything up last night.” She frowned deeply. “Jordan has barely been on my team for a few months. It is perfectly normal for him to make mistakes or ask questions. As a senior partner, can you stop putting so much pressure on him?” I suddenly found the entire situation utterly ridiculous. He had been at the firm for a full year. Yet somehow, he was now a delicate rookie who required my endless patience. “Just apologize to Jordan, Evan. Do it for me, and we can move past this…” I looked Savannah dead in the eyes. “We are done. I want a breakup.” The entire open plan office went dead silent. Savannah clearly didn’t believe a word I said. She actually let out a short, dismissive laugh. “Evan, why are you being so immature? Do you really think threatening me with a breakup is going to get my attention?” Right on cue, a text from Liam popped up on my screen. [Oak Street Bookstore. Tonight at 7 PM. Let’s lock down the direction.] I typed back: [See you there.] Without sparing Savannah another glance, I picked up my bag and walked out. The following morning, Liam slid the official contract across his desk toward me. “The Oak Street team absolutely loves your portfolio.” I stared at the screen. The highlighted clause read: Project must be led personally by Evan. My finger hovered over the mouse for a long time. For years, I had conditioned myself to put my name behind Savannah’s. Her projects. Her team. Her firm. Liam watched me closely. “Evan, this is your shot.” Just as I opened my mouth to reply, my phone buzzed. It was Savannah. [Where did you save the material boards for the Starlight Plaza project?] [Jordan has to pitch the final design to the developers this afternoon. Send him the master files.] I stared at the two messages and let out a dark laugh. I had been grinding on the Starlight Plaza project for three agonizing months. From the foot traffic flow to the custom lighting grids, I built every single version from the ground up on zero sleep. Jordan did not even know how to read the material index codes. Now that he was officially Savannah’s pet, he had learned exactly how to snap his fingers and demand my finished work. I flipped my phone face down on the desk. I did not reply. By mid afternoon, the main project group chat exploded. The lead developer sent three voice memos in a row. [Who the hell revised this draft?] [I stated explicitly from day one that we do not want this cheap, viral aesthetic. How are we this deep into the timeline and you still do not understand our core demands?] [If this reflects your firm’s level of comprehension, we will immediately reopen the bidding process to other agencies.] Savannah called me almost immediately. I let it ring out. Jordan’s messages started flooding in next. [Evan, I am so sorry. I swear I did not do it on purpose.] [The developers actually listen to you. Could you please just step in and fix this for me?] I ignored him entirely. A few minutes later, Savannah sent a voice memo. Her tone was sharp and commanding. “Evan, stop acting like a child and be a professional. If you want to throw a tantrum at me, fine, but do not hold a multimillion dollar project hostage.” Hearing her voice made me feel oddly at peace. So if I refuse to clean up her mess, I am being unprofessional. But when she blindly handed three months of my blood, sweat, and tears to a kid who couldn’t even read a design brief, she was just giving a rookie a chance. By late afternoon, Savannah showed up at Liam’s office in person. She pushed open the door to the small conference room, saw me sitting there with Liam, and her face went dark with fury. “The Starlight developers are threatening to pull the plug, and instead of fixing it, you are sitting here chatting about some bookstore?” “Since when did you lose all sense of priority?” I calmly flipped the contract to the signature page. “The final, approved master file for Starlight is on the company server. Anyone can access it.” “You put him in charge of the pitch. Let him deal with the fallout.” Savannah’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “He just started managing accounts. It is entirely normal for him to slip up.” “You are a founding partner. What is the big deal about covering for him just this once?” I looked at her blankly. “I absolutely can cover for him.” “But only on the condition that he answers directly to me. I dictate his workload, and I decide if he is competent enough to step into a client meeting.” “You do not get to bypass my authority, throw him into my project, and then expect me to act as his safety net when everything explodes.” Suddenly, Jordan’s timid voice echoed from the hallway. “Savannah, I am so sorry. This is all my fault.” He stood in the doorway, his eyes red and teary, staring right at me. “Evan, I swear I just wanted to help take some of the load off your plate.” Savannah practically spun on her heel to comfort him. When she turned back to me, her voice was absolute ice. “Evan, he is practically having a panic attack from the guilt. Do you really have to be this cruel and vindictive?” In the past, I used to dread the moment she used that cold, authoritative tone with me. But right now? I just found it completely laughable. Liam tapped a pen against the desk and slid it toward me. “Ready to sign?” I picked up the pen. Savannah’s face drained of color. “Evan!” I did not pause for a single second. I pressed the pen to the paper and signed my name with absolute precision at the bottom of the contract. Despite everything, I was still forced into the emergency damage control meeting for Starlight Plaza. The developers demanded a concrete recovery plan by 4 PM. All the senior partners were dialed in. Just before the meeting started, Savannah pulled me aside in the hallway, desperate for me to take the fall. “Jordan is still just a rookie. He made a mistake, and the client ripped into him. Just tell them you were the one managing the files and take the heat for this version. Otherwise, the kid is going to be completely humiliated.” I stayed completely silent. When she realized I was not automatically saying yes, her face stiffened, but she forced a pleading tone. “Evan, you know exactly how critical this contract is for our firm. Please do not do this. Jordan has his whole career ahead of him. Do not sabotage this project just because we are fighting at home.” “Just consider this a personal favor to me. Please.” She reached out, trying to grab my hand, slipping into her old habit of acting affectionate to get what she wanted. I dodged her hand entirely. Looking at her now, she felt like a total stranger. Over the years, through countless brutal projects, she had worked herself into the hospital with stress ulcers, yet she had never once begged anyone for help. I used to cover for her because I loved her. But now, she was throwing away her pride and begging me just to protect her little assistant’s fragile ego. I refused. Savannah ran the afternoon meeting as the project director, and Jordan was forced to present. My name had been scrubbed completely from the participant list. As soon as the meeting started, Jordan was visibly shaking. When he got to the centerpiece installation for the atrium, his hand slipped on the trackpad, and the screen flashed back to the exact same rose gold rendering the client hated yesterday. The lead developer’s face turned stormy. “I explicitly stated this morning that we are not moving in this direction.” “What exactly is going on at your firm?” Jordan stood frozen in sheer terror. Savannah immediately stepped in, her voice cold and professional. “Switch presenters.” An associate quickly grabbed the laptop, and they barely scraped through the rest of the meeting. When it was finally over, Savannah cornered me by the elevators. Her eyes were exhausted, her voice dripping with profound disappointment. “Evan, did you really have to push things this far?” I looked at her. “What are you talking about?” “Jordan couldn’t find the correct files. Why didn’t you organize the folders properly before you handed them over?” I stared at her in utter disbelief. “The master files are exactly where they always are on the server. The naming conventions are crystal clear.” Savannah’s eyes hardened into a glare. “So you are saying this entire disaster is one hundred percent his fault?” I really wanted to ask her Who else’s fault would it be? But I suddenly realized arguing with her was completely pointless. Instead, I just said, “I am a partner at this firm. I am not his personal secretary.” Word spread through the office like wildfire. The rumor was that Savannah and I were going through a toxic breakup, and I intentionally sabotaged Jordan’s files to ruin a massive account out of pure jealousy. Eventually, the board of partners decided to temporarily remove me from the Starlight project entirely. Savannah was appointed to take over all client communications. When the decision was announced, Liam actually laughed out loud in the boardroom. I just nodded calmly. “Understood.” After the meeting, I packed up all the blueprints, material indexes, and meeting minutes for Starlight and handed them directly to the operations manager. Then I grabbed my bag and headed out to meet the owners of the Oak Street Bookstore. Just as the elevator doors started to close, Savannah sprinted forward and slammed her hand against the sensor, forcing them back open. She was out of breath. She reached out, trying to gently touch my arm, her eyes softening into that familiar gaze. “Evan, just treat this as a few days of vacation. Once you cool off, I will clear everything up with the board and bring you right back onto the team. When this is all over, we can go home and celebrate properly. I will even book the most expensive restaurant in the city.” I looked at her face. I saw the exact same features of the girl who used to wait outside my dorm for hours, blushing furiously as she asked, “C… can I have a crush on you?” I gave her a small, polite smile. I reached over, pressed the ‘Close Door’ button, and watched her face slowly disappear behind the sliding metal. Savannah. I am never coming back to the Starlight project, and I am never coming home.
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