It was the final Thanksgiving before our college graduation, and my boyfriend’s custom-ordered pie box finally arrived for our friend group. The velvet-lined box had exactly four compartments. In each compartment sat a miniature pie, beautifully baked with a name etched into the crust. My older brother, Liam. My childhood best friend, Mason. My boyfriend, Ethan. And my younger adopted sister, Chloe. Four names. Perfectly arranged. Mine was the only one missing. Everyone’s eyes immediately darted to Ethan. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged casually. “The custom box only had four slots. Maya doesn’t really like sweets anyway, so I just didn’t get one for her.” “Besides, it’s just pie. She’s never cared about this kind of stuff.” Liam, ever the older brother, chimed in to smooth things over: “Come on, you two have been dating for three years. What’s his is yours, right? Just share Ethan’s.” I swallowed the heavy, suffocating lump in my throat, just like I always did, and offered a quiet, “Okay.” I honestly thought the holiday lantern festival that night would be different. I thought there was no way they could leave me out again. But after sitting alone in the living room for half an hour, I finally checked social media and realized they had already left without me. I called an Uber and went downtown by myself. At the very end of the crowded festival street, I saw them. All four of them were huddled together under a canopy of lights, taking a group selfie. Not a single one of them had even thought to call me. I stood alone in the shadows, and suddenly, the last few years flashed before my eyes. When all five of us went to the movies, my ticket was always the one isolated in the back row. When we were all supposed to take the LSAT prep course together, I was the only one who was completely kept in the dark about the registration deadline. It wasn’t that there just “happened” to be a shortage of space or time. It was that whenever someone had to be excluded, I was always, unequivocally, their first choice to cut. If a heart is already perfectly divided into four pieces, there’s no point in trying to force a fifth piece into the puzzle. 1 I didn’t walk into the canopy of lights. Just as I turned around, I heard Chloe’s bright laugh echoing behind me. “Ethan, you blinked! Take another one!” Ethan laughed and obliged. No one noticed I had walked away. On the drive back to campus, Mason suddenly pulled us all into a small, boutique gift shop. When the owner saw him, he immediately reached under the counter and pulled out a velvet display case. “Your custom bookmarks are ready.” Lined up inside were four exquisite, silver maple-leaf bookmarks. Each one had a small, colored glass bead dangling from the bottom, with a name and a graduation quote engraved on the back. Liam’s read: A Bright Future. Mason’s read: Dreams Realized. Ethan’s read: A Smooth Journey. Chloe’s read: Joy Always. None for me. The owner counted them twice, looking incredibly awkward. “Wait, weren’t there five of you?” Mason froze for a second, then pushed his glasses up his nose. “When I placed the order, Chloe just happened to be sitting right next to me.” “I’ll order Maya’s next time.” Chloe gripped her silver leaf tightly, her voice small and delicate. “Maya… do you want mine?” She barely extended her hand before Liam immediately pressed it back down. “It has your name engraved on it. It’s useless to her.” Ethan laughed and affectionately ruffled Chloe’s hair. “She doesn’t like little trinkets like this anyway. Just keep it.” It’s true that I didn’t care for useless knick-knacks. But the ticket stubs from our very first dates, the paper cranes he used to fold for me in class—I had meticulously saved every single one of them in my memory box. It wasn’t that I didn’t like gifts. It was just that whenever I was forgotten, they justified it by telling themselves I didn’t care. When we stepped out of the shop, the night air had turned freezing. Liam popped the trunk of his car and pulled out four identical, lightweight windbreakers. They were branded merch from the corporate firm where he had just finished his internship, each with a different colored logo on the chest. He handed one to Mason, tossed one to Ethan, and personally draped one over Chloe’s shoulders. The final jacket, he put on himself. I stood by the car, shivering in the cold. Liam zipped his jacket all the way up before he finally seemed to remember I was there. “You never used to get cold, right?” “I remember when we were kids, you’d run outside in the dead of winter in your pajamas.” Ethan reached out and touched my hand. “You are a little cold.” He said the words, but he didn’t take off his jacket. He simply wrapped my hand in his. “Just hold out for a few more minutes. We’ll be back at the dorms soon.” His hand was warm. But for the very first time, that warmth didn’t make me feel loved. I finally realized how effortless ‘caring’ could be. As long as you ask the question, you’ve done your duty. No actual effort required. When we finally got back to the dorms, Chloe pulled out the polaroids she had taken that night. She excitedly handed them out. “These are the four best shots of the night! Exactly one for each of us!” Liam’s photo was of him adjusting Chloe’s hairpin. Mason’s was of him and Chloe playing a carnival game by the river. Ethan’s was of him standing directly behind Chloe, holding a paper lantern over her head. And Chloe’s photo was of her smiling at the camera, while the other three guys looked at her. They huddled together, laughing and debating whose expression was the funniest. I stood under the dull glow of the streetlamp, my hands completely empty. It wasn’t until the photos were all distributed that Chloe finally looked at me, hesitating. “Maya… the film cartridge ran out right before we got to you tonight.” “I’ll bring an extra pack next time, I promise I’ll get a picture of you.” I nodded. “Okay.” Ethan seemed to notice how incredibly quiet I was. He reached out and grabbed my arm. “Are you upset again?” “It’s literally just a piece of film. Is it really that serious?” I gently pulled my arm out of his grip. “I’m not upset. I’m just tired.” When I got upstairs, I stood by my dorm window for a very long time. The four of them were still hanging out downstairs. I watched them stack the four silver bookmarks together, snap a photo, and send it to our group chat. The caption read: [Graduating soon, but we’ll never be apart. Forever.] I didn’t ‘heart’ the message. Instead, I opened an email I had received earlier that afternoon. It was an offer from a tech firm in Seattle. They had asked me three separate times if I was willing to join their core development team early. The first two times, I politely declined, claiming I was too busy with graduation prep. The truth was, Ethan had told me he couldn’t handle a long-distance relationship. My brother had told me that family should always stay in the same city. And Mason had analytically broken down why staying close to our support system was better than any out-of-state opportunity. But tonight, I clicked ‘Reply’ and typed a single sentence. [I accept the offer for early onboarding.] Less than ten minutes later, HR replied. [Your corporate housing is secured. Please report to the Seattle office in exactly three days.] Three days. Exactly enough time to surgically remove myself from their lives forever. 2 The day of our graduation photoshoot, the campus turf felt like an oven. I had just zipped up my graduation gown when I saw Ethan walking toward me, holding four bouquets of flowers. Sunflowers for Liam. White roses for Mason. Pink tulips for Chloe. He held a massive bouquet of baby’s breath for himself. I looked down at my hands. Empty again. Ethan followed my gaze, and the smile on his face faltered for a microsecond. “The florist was running a bundle deal on four bouquets.” “I was originally going to buy yours separately, but things got so chaotic I completely forgot.” He looked around, spotted a bush of wild gardenias growing near the sidewalk, snapped a branch off, and handed it to me. The stem was jagged, the leaves already drooping from the heat. “Here. You love gardenias, right?” Several classmates were already turning their heads to stare. I didn’t want to cause a scene and humiliate myself right before the group photo, so I took the flower. Ethan immediately let out a massive sigh of relief. “See? Problem solved.” When it was time for the group photo, Chloe stood dead center. Liam adjusted the tassel on her cap. Mason carefully tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Ethan knelt down and meticulously smoothed out the wrinkles in her graduation gown. I stood off to the side, looking like a random stranger who had accidentally wandered into the frame. The photographer waved his hand, yelling: “Get closer!” I had barely taken half a step toward Ethan when someone accidentally bumped into Chloe from behind. Ethan’s reflexes kicked in instantly. He wrapped his arms around her to catch her. The camera flashed. In the final, permanent photo, the four of them were tightly clustered together, holding each other. I was standing exactly half a step away. An island. After the photos, Liam pulled four custom graduation teddy bears out of a shopping bag. Each bear was dressed in the graduation regalia of their specific major, with their names embroidered on the gowns. Chloe’s eyes lit up with pure joy. “Liam! When did you get these?!” “A month ago.” Liam smiled, handing her a bear. “You said you wanted what everyone else had, right?” I stared at the empty shopping bag in his hand. “Where’s mine?” Asking that question out loud made me feel utterly, desperately pathetic. Liam frowned. “When I was placing the order, you never dropped your exact major concentration in the group chat.” “Do I really need to announce my major in a group chat for my own brother to know what it is?” I asked, genuinely bewildered. He choked on his words, unable to answer. Mason immediately stepped in to run damage control. “The vendor stopped taking custom orders weeks ago.” “Maya, you hate stuffed animals anyway. It would just gather dust in your room.” It was always like this. If they forgot to buy me something, it was because I “didn’t like it.” If they forgot to ask me, it was because I “didn’t speak up.” They possessed an infinite arsenal of excuses to prove that my exclusion was always entirely my own fault. That afternoon, the university unveiled the senior memorial wall. Mason was the one in charge of curating the photos for our friend group. Right in the dead center of the display, under the bold heading: [Four Years of Us], was a massive photo of the four of them standing under the cherry blossoms on campus. A classmate who knew me walked by and asked, confused: “Maya, aren’t you best friends with them?” “Why aren’t you on the memorial wall?” Chloe nervously twisted the hem of her gown. Mason answered for her. “Maya hates taking pictures.” Liam casually added, “She rarely shows up to group hangouts anyway.” I stood there, staring at them in absolute disbelief. I hated taking pictures? For the past four years, every single dinner, every single birthday, every single road trip—I was the one behind the camera. Because they always told me I had the “best eye.” My camera roll was filled with thousands of photos documenting their growth from awkward freshmen to graduating seniors. But there wasn’t a single photo of me. It wasn’t that I didn’t show up. It was that the person standing behind the camera was never actually seen by the people standing in front of it. That night, alone in my dorm room, I unclasped the matching couple’s bracelet from my wrist. The inside of the silver band had Ethan’s initials engraved on it. I had worn it for three years. It had left a permanent, faint indent on my skin. I placed it in the very back of my desk drawer. Just as I slid the drawer shut, Ethan texted me. [Are you still throwing a tantrum over the flowers?] [I literally picked a gardenia for you. Don’t ruin today over a stupid flower.] I stared at the glowing screen for a very long time. Finally, I typed back two words. [I’m not.] Because a person who has genuinely decided to leave doesn’t need to throw a tantrum to prove they were wronged. 3 At the graduation dinner that night, Chloe suggested we do a “letter exchange.” She pulled a stack of beautiful, wax-sealed envelopes out of her bag. “Since we’re all going to be super busy after graduation, we won’t get to see each other every day.” “So I secretly asked you guys to write letters to each other, and we’re going to open them tonight!” Liam laughed, lightly knocking on her forehead. “You and your dramatic rituals.” Despite his complaint, he was the very first one to pull his letters out. Mason and Ethan both pulled out three envelopes each. Clearly, they had planned this weeks in advance. And I was the only one kept entirely in the dark. When the letters were distributed, everyone had exactly three envelopes sitting in front of them. Chloe opened hers, and her eyes immediately welled with tears. Liam wrote that she needed to stop staying up so late. Mason promised that no matter what time it was, he would always answer her calls. Ethan wrote that he hoped she would always be happy, and that she never needed to feel insecure or anxious again. I sat at the table. The space in front of me was completely empty. No one had written me a letter. And obviously, I hadn’t prepared any for them either. Chloe finally noticed me, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Maya… didn’t Mason tell you?” Mason froze. “I thought Ethan was going to tell her.” Ethan frowned deeply. “Wasn’t Liam the one who made the group chat for this?” Liam pulled out his phone, scrolling through his messages. He suddenly realized that when they organized the letter exchange, he had created a separate, four-person group chat. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I just made it really quick, I didn’t think about it.” “Besides, you and Ethan are basically a package deal. His letters count as yours too.” Ethan smoothly folded the letter he had written to Chloe and put it away. “We have plenty of time. I’ll write you one when we get home.” I offered a faint smile. “No need.” Something that has to be demanded before it is given holds exactly zero value. Halfway through the dinner, the waiter brought out a massive dessert platter. Chloe clapped her hands excitedly. “Once we all move into the Oakwood Apartments, we can do dinners like this all the time!” I looked up. “What Oakwood Apartments?” The entire table went dead silent. Chloe looked at Ethan, then at Mason, then at Liam. “Did… did no one tell you?” “We already signed a lease for four apartments in the same complex.” Liam was in Building 1. Mason was in Building 3. Ethan and Chloe had actually rented two units on the exact same floor. They had been discussing this for a month. They had toured the complex three times. They had even planned out whose apartment they would host game nights in. But not a single person had ever asked me where I was going to live after graduation. Seeing the look on my face, Liam sighed, his tone laced with exasperation. “Aren’t you just going to live with Ethan?” I turned and looked directly at Ethan. He immediately averted his eyes. Several agonizing seconds passed before he finally spoke. “Chloe just got her first real corporate job. She’s terrified of living alone.” “So I’m going to move into Oakwood first, just to make sure she’s okay and help her settle in.” I gripped my water glass so tightly my knuckles turned white. “What about the apartment we already put a deposit on?” “Just cancel it,” he said, waving it off like it was nothing. “If you still want to live there, you can just sign the lease yourself. Once Chloe is comfortable at her new job, I’ll move in with you.” “How long is that going to take?” “How the hell should I know?” Ethan’s tone turned incredibly defensive, as if I were the one being unreasonable and aggressive. “This is her very first time out in the real world. Can you not be a little understanding?” I looked at the four people sitting at the table. Liam was staring down at his plate, clearly endorsing Ethan’s decision. Mason pushed his glasses up his nose, gently suggesting I not ruin the celebratory mood. Chloe was biting her lip, looking like she was about to burst into tears. They all universally agreed that Chloe needed to be coddled as she entered the “real world.” But they completely forgot that I was also starting a new job, at a new company, and navigating life in a brand new city entirely alone. But since we were kids, they had collectively decided that I simply didn’t need anyone. I stood up. “I’m going to the restroom.” No one tried to stop me. By the time I reached the door, they were already back to excitedly discussing what kind of dishware they were going to buy for their new apartments. I walked to the end of the hallway and called my leasing agent. “Hi, that apartment we viewed last week? I need to cancel my application.” The agent warned me that I would lose my security deposit. I told him I didn’t care. After hanging up, I opened the digital employment contract from the tech firm in Seattle. I scrolled to the very last page, and typed my digital signature. Three years of love. Over two decades of family and friendship. When it finally comes time to let go, all it really takes is a signature. When I walked back to the table, they were raising their glasses, toasting to the fact that they were all going to live together. I picked up my water glass and gently clinked it against theirs. My phone vibrated under the table. [Contract fully executed. Please report to the Seattle office on Monday at 9:00 AM sharp.] At that exact moment, Ethan’s phone buzzed as well. He read the automated email notification from the leasing office, and his face instantly darkened. “Maya. You canceled the lease on our apartment?” I offered a simple, “Yeah.” “You weren’t going to live there anyway.” He glared at me, letting out a harsh, cold laugh. It was the laugh of a man who believed that if he indulged me any further, I would become completely unhinged. “Fine. If you think playing this little game of chicken is going to force me to apologize, go ahead.” “I want to see exactly who breaks first.” He didn’t know. Between him and me, the game was already over. 4 The night before I was scheduled to leave, our five-person group chat suddenly updated. Everyone changed their profile pictures. The four of them had cropped a massive, custom graduation illustration into four separate images. Liam was the top-left corner. Mason was the top-right. Ethan and Chloe were the bottom-left and bottom-right, fitting together perfectly to complete the image. I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then clicked on the chat members. There were exactly five icons. But no matter how you arranged them, my generic landscape photo was the only one that didn’t fit. It was completely, aggressively extraneous. Chloe sent a message to the group. [This matching PFP set is so cute!] Liam replied with a pat-on-the-head emoji. [Of course it is, you picked it.] Mason, who rarely participated in group banter, chimed in. [It’s very memorable.] Ethan tagged me directly. [Don’t overthink it, the artist only offered a four-person commission template.] Before I could even type a single word, he had already projected his own manufactured emotional response onto me. I closed the app without replying. The next day at noon, Liam sent a location pin to a restaurant. [7:00 PM tonight. Final family dinner before we all start working. Do not be late.] Attached was a screenshot of a prepaid reservation. A four-person set menu. Two entrees, two sides, one large soup, and exactly four drinks. I replied: [I thought this was a family dinner?] It took Liam a very long time to process what I meant. [Chloe has been wanting to try this place for months, and the four-person combo was a great deal.] [When you get here, we’ll just order an extra side for you. Stop obsessing over petty details.] I stared at the phrase “we’ll just order an extra side for you,” and felt a wave of profound, exhausting absurdity wash over me. They constantly told me I was the most important person in the family. Yet when they booked a table, no one ever remembered to reserve a seat for me. They would wait until I was physically standing awkwardly at the edge of the table, pull over a folding chair from another section, and ask the waiter for an extra set of silverware. As if tossing me a chair at the very end completely erased the fact that they had forgotten I existed in the first place. That afternoon, I packed the absolute last item of clothing into my suitcase. There were only a few things left in my desk drawer. The cheap plastic hair clip Liam bought me when we were kids. The notebook Mason had meticulously copied his history lectures into for me. The ticket stub from my very first movie date with Ethan. And the ugly, lopsided origami crane Chloe had folded for me the week my parents adopted her. I didn’t throw them away. I just left them in the drawer. Taking them with me would mean I still cared enough to hold on. Throwing them away would require emotional effort. When you truly, deeply do not care anymore, even throwing things in the trash feels like a waste of energy. As I zipped my suitcase shut, Ethan sent me a photo of four VIP wristbands to an upcoming music festival. [Chloe has been trying to get these for months, she finally scored them.] [It’s exactly four tickets. We’re going to take her this weekend.] [You hate crowds anyway, so just sit this one out.] I couldn’t even remember how many times they had weaponized the phrase “you hate it anyway” to justify excluding me. The truth was, that specific indie band was one I had been listening to with Ethan for three years. When we failed to get tickets last year, he held me in his arms and promised that he would absolutely take me to see them live the next time they toured. Turns out, the promise didn’t vanish. He just fulfilled it for someone else. I rolled my suitcase out of the dorm room and dropped my key in the RA’s dropbox. I didn’t leave a melodramatic goodbye letter. I didn’t post a massive, emotional manifesto calling them out. They wouldn’t read it anyway. And even if they did, they would just accuse me of being overly dramatic and sensitive. On the Uber ride to the airport, the group chat was blowing up with notifications. Liam was demanding I get to the restaurant early to secure a good table. Mason asked me to pick up a box of those specific egg tarts Chloe loved on my way there. Chloe asked if I was still mad at them, followed by a pleading, crying emoji. The final message was from Ethan. [Do not show up tonight with an attitude.] [When the music festival is over, we’ll buy you a t-shirt or something.] I didn’t reply. Right before I walked through the TSA security checkpoint, I opened the group chat settings and hit Leave Group. A confirmation prompt popped up on the screen. I clicked Confirm, and stepped out of their lives completely, leaving absolutely zero trace behind. Once I boarded the flight and settled into my window seat, my phone buzzed one last time. It was a voice memo from Ethan. His voice was laced with that same, familiar, exhausted exasperation. “Maya, what the hell are you throwing a tantrum about now?” “If you see a message, respond to it. Stop making everyone sit around waiting for you.” As the plane began taxiing down the runway, another text from Ethan came through. [Be there by 7:00. If you’re late, we’re not waiting for you.] I looked out the window. The familiar skyline of the city was already beginning to shrink, and the distance between me and that restaurant was rapidly expanding from a few miles to a few thousand miles. I powered off my phone. They would probably just ask the waiter to pull up a fifth chair tonight. But that chair was going to stay empty forever.
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