I looked at Kate.
She was watching me now.
Not embarrassed.
Not ashamed.
Something much closer to satisfaction.
“She took my boyfriend,” I said.
Mom made a small dismissive motion with her hand.
“Relationships change.”
“And now her feelings require me to leave town.”
“You’re making it sound ugly.”
“I’m repeating it.”
Dad shifted.
“There’s another practical issue.”
Of course there was.
“The apartment,” he said.
I went very still.
“What about it?”
“Kate and Nathan are planning to move in together.”
I looked at Mom.
Then Dad.
Then Kate.
“My apartment.”
“It belongs to us,” Dad said.
There are sentences that change your understanding of a relationship because they reveal that the other person has been keeping a different set of books.
For years, it had been “your apartment.”
Need anything for your apartment?
How’s your apartment?
Are you renewing the internet at your apartment?
The moment Kate wanted it, ownership returned.
“It belongs to us.”
I had paid rent every month.
Paid utilities.
Replaced a broken microwave myself.
I had treated the apartment like a home.
My parents had treated it like a favor they could reassign.
Mom reached beside the couch.
That was when she produced the ticket.
One way.
My name.
Departure two days later.
Then the check.
Three thousand dollars.
“We’re not sending you away with nothing.”
I stared at her hand.
“You already bought the ticket.”
“Yes.”
“And called Aunt Caroline.”
“She said you can stay as long as necessary.”
“You arranged all of this before asking me.”
Dad’s voice became impatient.
“We knew you would make it difficult.”
There was that word again.
Difficult.
Kate lifted her phone.
“I want a picture before you go.”
I looked at her.
“For what?”
“Memories.”
I should have been furious.
Instead, something in me cooled.
I looked at the people who had raised me.
They expected tears.
Negotiation.
Maybe a scene large enough to justify what they were doing.
They wanted proof I was unstable.
Jealous.
Bitter.
I decided not to give it to them.
I took the ticket.
Then the check.
“Okay.”
Dad frowned.
“What?”
“I understand.”
Mom searched my face.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
Kate’s phone lowered.
For the first time that evening, she looked uncertain.
I stood.
“Thanks for arranging everything.”
“Diana,” Mom said.
I smiled.
“Fresh start, right?”
Then I left.
Back at the apartment, I sat on my bed.
The same bed where I had found Nathan and Kate.
There were boxes stacked near the closet because my mother had helpfully dropped them off earlier that morning.
They had planned even the packing.
For five minutes, I did nothing.
Then I called Alan.
My boss answered after three rings.
“Everything okay?”
“No.”
I told him I was relocating.
He asked whether I wanted remote status.
For one second, I almost said yes.
Then I looked around the apartment.
My family had controlled where I lived.
Who stayed in the home.
Which city was apparently convenient for me to occupy.
I wanted a clean break.
“I think I need to resign.”
Alan was quiet.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“You’re one of my strongest developers.”
“Thank you.”
“We could make something work.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“Is this about Nathan?”
I closed my eyes.
Some people at work knew we had split.
“Partly.”