At the college reunion, I stepped out to run an errand for my girlfriend. By the time I returned, my seat had already been taken by my best friend. My wine glass and plate had been cleared away, replaced by a fresh, untouched setting. It was as if I had never been there at all. Seeing me walk back into the room, Derek made a move to stand up, but Valerie lightly pressed her hand onto his shoulder, keeping him in his seat. “Don’t worry about it,” she said smoothly. “We’re talking about our latest case anyway. He wouldn’t understand a word of it. He’d just be sitting here smiling politely.” The rest of the table fell silent, no one daring to chime in. Everyone in that room knew about the sudden tragedy that had struck my family years ago, forcing me to drop out of law school halfway through. Back in college, Valerie and Derek had been the law school’s “golden pair,” a formidable duo who had cracked countless complex mock trials together. After graduation, they had climbed straight into the ranks of a prestigious Big Law firm, while I became the “paralegal assistant”—a pity hire who only got a foot in the door because of my girlfriend. I stood there, feeling incredibly foolish. Valerie took the pack of cigarettes I had just bought for her, sliding them into her purse before giving me another casual instruction. “Derek wants some wine. Go down to the cellar and pick up a bottle, will you?” She didn’t even look up at me as she spoke, already turning her head back to continue her conversation with him. Standing on the periphery of their shared warmth and lively laughter, a sudden, heavy exhaustion washed over me. The girl I had spent years running after, exhausting every ounce of my energy just to keep in sight—I didn’t want to chase her anymore. … It had been half an hour since I returned with her cigarettes. Aside from her brief command to buy wine, Valerie hadn’t spared me a single glance. She was entirely engrossed in Derek, discussing the high-profile case they had won last week and mapping out the future expansion of their firm. I had lost count of how many times I had been reduced to nothing more than a background prop in their lives. It wasn’t until Derek checked a notification on his phone that Valerie finally seemed to remember my existence. She turned around, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “Why are you still here? I thought you went to get the wine.” Since the reunion started, I had already run three separate errands for them. The torrential rain outside had soaked through my clothes, leaving me shivering and wet to the bone. Valerie’s eyes lingered on the damp hair clinging to my forehead and the water dripping down my face. For a fraction of a second, she fell silent. Derek, ever the diplomat, quickly tried to smooth things over. “Oh, come on, I just mentioned the wine in passing. It’s pouring out there, Tyler doesn’t need to go.” As he spoke, he reached into his leather bag and pulled out a soft, monogrammed handkerchief. It was an exact match to the one Valerie kept in her purse. Ever since I returned to the city six months after dropping out of school, the boundaries of our relationship had begun to blur. Initially, the breakfasts Valerie bought in the mornings went from two portions to three. After graduation, it wasn’t just breakfast anymore—even our movie tickets were bought in sets of three. But eventually, that delicate balance shattered. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment Valerie stopped buying three portions and started buying only enough for herself and Derek. “Stop smoking, Derek. You know Tyler hates the smell of smoke,” Derek said, gently reaching over to pluck the lit cigarette from Valerie’s fingers and stubbing it out in the ashtray. Valerie let out a soft laugh, shaking her head with a look of helpless indulgence. Having loved her for seven years, I knew that look better than anyone. It was the face she made when she chose to unconditionally spoil someone. Over our years together, I had begged her countless times to quit smoking because of my asthma. But she had always dismissed my concerns, telling me I didn’t understand the immense pressure she was under, accusing me of trying to strip away her only sense of freedom. Yet, for someone who despised being controlled above all else, she had grown incredibly comfortable letting Derek dictate her habits. The chatter at the table resumed, the laughter swelling once more. Without saying a word, I turned and walked out of the private dining room. Stepping into the quiet hallway, I took a deep, steadying breath and called Diane, the head of HR. I told her I wanted to submit my resignation. She was visibly taken awake. “Tyler, you handle almost all the daily operations and logistics for the senior partners. If you leave, the administrative side of the firm is going to fall into complete chaos.” She paused, lowering her voice. “How about I talk to Valerie? Maybe we can transfer you to a different department?” “No, thank you,” I replied quietly. Since my first year at the firm, I had requested a transfer to a legal track multiple times. When I assisted a senior associate in winning a major corporate lawsuit, Valerie had shrugged it off, calling it a stroke of sheer luck. When I applied to be promoted to a full-time associate, she rejected it, claiming my credentials weren’t up to par. During the annual review, she calculated my performance metrics down to six decimal places. She had told me, “You’re my boyfriend, Tyler. I have to be completely impartial so people don’t accuse me of favoritism.” Yet, when Derek was promoted twice in a single year, she praised his “extraordinary talent.” When he swept almost every award at the annual gala, she dismissed it as “just looking out for an old classmate.” Seven years of tireless, quiet dedication, and I was still nothing but a ghost in the hallway. I looked through the glass pane of the dining room door. Neither of them had turned their heads to see where I had gone. I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Diane,” I said into the receiver, “please just help me process the paperwork. And… don’t tell Valerie.” Diane didn’t push further. She gave a quiet sigh and agreed to start the process. I was just about to leave the venue when the heavy doors swung open. Valerie stepped out, her eyes searching the hallway until they landed on me. “Who are you not telling?” she asked, her voice sharp with curiosity. “Nothing,” I said, keeping my tone perfectly flat. Valerie didn’t press the issue. Instead, she handed me a heavy, charcoal-gray paper bag. “What do you think of this suit?” It was a tailored Italian piece I had circled in a magazine just last week. I remembered showing it to her, asking if she thought it would look good on me. At the time, she had been too busy replying to a thread of emails to even glance at the page. I hadn’t realized she had actually registered it. A faint, stupid warmth began to bloom in my chest, but before I could speak, she continued: “Do you think Derek will like it?” My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the sharp lines of the collar inside the bag, then slowly nodded. “Yeah. It’s beautiful. It’s definitely his style.” Perhaps sensing my unusual quietness, Valerie offered a rare explanation. “The only reason we won the litigation last week was because of Derek’s closing arguments. I can’t let him walk away empty-handed. As the managing partner, I have to show my appreciation.” She reached out, lightly pinching my cheek in a gesture that felt entirely patronizing. “If you like it that much, you can always borrow it from him once he’s worn it a few times. He hates matching outfits anyway, and since you two are basically brothers, it won’t go to waste.” I was her boyfriend—the man who was supposed to stand by her side—yet I was being asked to wait for another man’s hand-me-downs. When the reunion finally wrapped up, the guests began to disperse to their cars. Naturally, Derek opened the passenger door of Valerie’s sedan and slid inside. Valerie had bought that car with the very first bonus she earned after starting the firm. I remembered the way she had beamed at me, holding up the keys and promising that she would drive me to and from work every single day. But on the very first day she brought it to the office, Derek claimed he had missed the last train and asked if he could hitch a ride. Valerie had looked at me with pleading eyes, asking if I could make space for him just this once. That “just this once” had stretched into five long years. Before I could even reach for the rear door handle, the engine roared to life, and a cloud of exhaust fumes blew into my face. The car pulled out of the parking lot and sped away, disappearing into the curtain of rain. They were so wrapped up in their post-victory debrief that neither of them had realized I hadn’t even gotten into the vehicle. To make matters worse, the storm was worsening. I stood under the awning, trying to hail a ride on my phone, but after thirty minutes of watching the screen search for drivers, no one accepted the fare. Left with no choice, I stepped out into the freezing, relentless downpour. The sidewalk was slick with rain and grease. Halfway down the block, my foot slipped, and I fell hard into a pool of muddy water. I struggled to get up, my palms scraped raw against the wet concrete, the cold mud soaking through my clothes. In that quiet, dark street, a wave of profound bitterness finally broke over me. By the time I dragged myself back to our apartment, shivering and dripping wet, the sound of laughter was already drifting from the living room. Derek was sitting on the sofa, his leg resting comfortably across Valerie’s lap. She was leaning over him, carefully dabbing antiseptic onto a small scrape on his knee. Seeing me stand in the doorway, Valerie’s brow furrowed in immediate annoyance. “Where on earth have you been?” she demanded. “Do you have any idea how worried Derek and I were? We looked everywhere for you. Derek even scraped his knee trying to search the venue.” “Please, Tyler, try to be a little more reliable. If you can’t help us with the workload, the least you can do is not make us worry about you.” She didn’t see that my skin was pale from the cold. She didn’t notice the muddy water dripping onto the hardwood floor. All she cared about was the tiny scrape on Derek’s knee. I slowly looked down at my phone. There wasn’t a single missed call. Not a single text message asking where I was. Had they really searched for me? Derek quickly pulled his leg back, looking incredibly flustered as he tried to explain. “Tyler, please don’t be mad at us. I’m so sorry, really…” Seeing the silent, hollow expression on my face, Derek got up, limping slightly as he made a show of rushing toward the door. Valerie made a move to chase after him, but paused at the threshold, turning back to glare at me. “Derek and I have a business trip out of town tomorrow morning. Pack both of our bags tonight.” Without waiting for a response, she grabbed an umbrella and ran out the door to chase him down. There was no apology, no real explanation—just the same old demands, delivered with the easy authority of someone talking to a servant. Over the years, they had slowly chipped away at the ambitious, passionate boy I used to be, turning me into a glorified housekeeper they could order around at their convenience. And even then, they truly believed they were doing me a favor by letting me occupy a desk at their firm. But this time, I didn’t touch her suitcases. Instead, I pulled out my own bags and began packing everything that belonged to me. Under the pretext of “budget cuts,” Valerie had told me to stay behind while she and Derek went on their business trip. But judging by Derek’s social media updates, the trip looked less like business and more like a romantic getaway. He posted photos of them strolling through historic coastal towns, sharing tea in quiet, sunlit cafes, and visiting local artisan shops. Valerie, who had always detested hands-on activities, had spent three hours at a pottery studio with him, molding clay side-by-side. Then, a junior associate traveling with them accidentally sent a message to the main office group chat: “Breaking news! The resort messed up our reservations and they’re completely booked. Valerie and Derek are sharing the master suite tonight!” The message was unsent a few seconds later, and almost immediately, Valerie’s name flashed on my screen. “Tyler, the hotel had a massive system error and gave away our rooms,” she said, her voice tight with defensive exhaustion. “I only agreed to share the suite because I didn’t want you accusing me of neglecting your best friend’s comfort again. It’s strictly professional.” In the background, I could hear Derek’s voice whining playfully. “Valerie, where did you put my face wash?” Before she could answer, Derek took the phone from her hand. “Hey, Tyler! Man, I wish you were here. Traveling with Valerie is so boring, she refuses to talk any gossip. Don’t worry, though—I’ll keep a close eye on her tonight so she doesn’t run off with any handsome locals!” They had crossed so many lines in the name of “friendship” and “looking out for each other.” Valerie had once played the role of Derek’s “girlfriend” at a corporate gala to help him ward off unwanted attention. Derek, supposedly worried about Valerie’s safety, had stayed on the phone with her for eight consecutive hours during a solo business trip—completely blocking the line when I was trying to call her after getting into a minor car accident. And now, under the guise of saving me from worry, they were sharing a room. I pressed my fingernails into my palms, the physical pain grounding me. The words I had rehearsed a thousand times in my head finally slipped past my lips. “Valerie. Let’s break up.” The line went dead silent. A moment later, I heard Valerie let out a cold, irritated laugh. “Tyler, you’re not eighteen anymore. Can you stop being so incredibly childish?” “Derek and I have put up with your insecurities for years. You should be grateful for what you have instead of throwing these pathetic tantrums.” Derek’s voice cut back in, laced with sweet concern. “Tyler, please don’t be mad at us. I’m so sorry, really…” “You don’t owe him an apology!” Valerie snapped, her voice echoing clearly near the receiver. “If you keep coddling him, he’s just going to keep acting like a spoiled brat. It’s not like he’s some high-society prince.” With a sharp click, the line went dead. I remembered when we first started dating in college. During our very first argument, she had spent three months buying me small gifts and writing letters just to make me smile again. Now, she couldn’t even offer a simple, cost-free apology. I stared at the black screen for a long moment, then dialed the real estate broker. I told him I wanted to list the condo for a quick sale, even if it meant taking a loss. There was a long, awkward silence on the other end of the line. “Mr. Evans,” the broker said hesitantly. “I’m looking at the title deed right now. Along with your name, there’s another co-owner registered on the property—a Mr. Derek Shepherd. You can’t legally sell this property without his signature.” The blood drained from my face, leaving me completely cold. A year ago, when Valerie and I were planning our future, we had agreed to save up for a down payment on our dream home. I had worked double shifts at the firm and taken on three freelance document-review gigs at night, pouring every cent of my savings into that deposit. Valerie had handled the legal paperwork, assuring me that she would register it in my name and take care of the notarization. And now, Derek’s name was on the deed of the home I had bled for, without him having contributed a single dollar. The day before I was set to leave the city, I walked into the law firm with my formal resignation letter in hand. As I approached Valerie’s office, I noticed a crowd of colleagues gathered near the glass doors, whispering among themselves. Seeing me approach, they fell silent, parting to let me through while casting looks of deep disdain in my direction. I pushed open the door. Derek was sitting on the leather sofa, burying his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Valerie stood beside him. When she saw me walk in, her face hardened into an expression of sheer disappointment. “How much do you have to hate Derek to do something this malicious?” I stopped in my tracks. “What are you talking about?” Derek lifted his tear-stained face, holding up a thick manila folder so everyone in the hallway could see. “The evidence I spent months gathering for our client… it was all tampered with overnight. The court dismissed our case this morning and ruled against us. They’re talking about launching an ethics investigation… I might lose my license, Tyler.” In our office, my primary responsibility was managing the physical and digital filing systems. I was the only person with unrestricted access to the archives. To everyone else, the culprit was obvious. “I didn’t touch those files,” I said, looking straight into Valerie’s eyes. “Do you honestly think I did this?” Valerie looked at me with an expression of pure disgust. “I was wondering why you were so quiet yesterday—no calls, no complaints. I thought you were finally growing up. It turns out you were just busy planning this?” “You knew how hard Derek worked to pass his bar exam. You wanted to ruin his life.” In that moment, everything became painfully clear. She didn’t care about the truth. She only cared about protecting Derek’s career, and she needed a scapegoat to take the fall so the firm’s reputation wouldn’t be dragged through the mud. Even if it meant ruining me. My chest felt hollow, like a gaping wound letting in the freezing winter wind. Valerie personally drafted the formal complaint against me. She accused me of gross negligence, destroying proprietary evidence, and malicious sabotage that had resulted in millions of dollars in losses for our corporate client. Under the weight of her legal team, I didn’t stand a chance. After a swift administrative hearing, my newly minted law license—the one I had spent three grueling years of sleepless nights studying for—was officially suspended. The profession I had ruined my health to enter had shut its doors on me forever. The day the ruling came down, I walked out of the courthouse alone. Later that evening, I saw Derek’s social media update. To help him “recover from the stress of the trial,” Valerie had taken him on a week-long trip to Paris. Every landmark they tagged, every bistro they visited, were the exact places Valerie and I had once promised to see together. I went back to the office over the weekend to clear out my desk. The building was mostly empty, but the few interns working weekend shifts looked at me like I was a criminal. Only Derek, who had returned early to pick up some files, stood near the breakroom, watching me pack with a quiet, triumphant smirk on his face. Valerie walked into my cubicle, holding my official termination letter. There was a faint flicker of guilt in her eyes as she looked at the cardboard box in my hands. “Maybe it’s for the best, Tyler,” she said softly. “Working at a firm was always too stressful for you anyway.” “If you still want to work, a close friend of mine is looking for a receptionist at his real estate agency. The hours are easy, and with your presentation, I can easily get you the job.” She reached out, intending to help me lift the heavy box. I stepped back, cold and hollow, pulling the box out of her reach. Without saying a word, I turned my back on her and walked out of the office for the last time. In the back of the taxi heading to the airport, my phone vibrated repeatedly with her incoming calls. I let them ring out, one by one. Just as the flight attendant announced that the cabin doors were closing, I sent her one final text message: [Valerie, we are over.] Then, I blocked her number, deleted her social media accounts, and turned off my phone.
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