The 100th Time She Said Yes
Agatha Christie · Completed · 8.1k Words
Introduction
That was Caleb's first sentence to me on our five-year anniversary. His black Maybach idled at the curb. Paige stood closely behind him, wiping her tear-stained face. She had just climbed out of his passenger seat; I was just holding the two Nova VIP passes that took a miracle to score.
"She needs a distraction," Caleb added, fully expecting my usual quiet surrender.
I looked at them. No screaming. No tears. I just placed the tickets into his hand, turned on my heel, and left.
Let them enjoy the show. There was no space for me in that crowded arena, just like there was no space left for me in his world.
Chapter 1
"Give Paige the tickets. I'll buy you a new bag tomorrow."
That was Caleb's first sentence to me on our five-year anniversary. His black Maybach idled at the curb. Paige stood closely behind him, wiping her tear-stained face. She had just climbed out of his passenger seat; I was just holding the two Nova VIP passes that took a miracle to score.
"She needs a distraction," Caleb added, fully expecting my usual quiet surrender.
I looked at them. No screaming. No tears. I just placed the tickets into his hand, turned on my heel, and left.
Let them enjoy the show. There was no space for me in that crowded arena, just like there was no space left for me in his world.
Harper's POV
My boyfriend ditched me for the same woman for the ninety-ninth time. The first ninety-nine? I let it slide.
This was number one hundred.
I was done. Really, truly done.
November in New York, and the wind cut like a blade. Outside Madison Square Garden, the crowd pressed shoulder to shoulder, light sticks bleeding red and blue into one blinding wash. The screaming carried two blocks.
I stood in the sheltered corner of the VIP entrance, hands shoved deep in my coat pockets, fingers working over those two tickets. The paper had gone soft and warm.
For these tickets, I'd burned every contact I had at the gallery. Three all-nighters redoing a curator proposal for a difficult collector, just to hear "maybe." Then another week of follow-ups before I got a yes.
Today marked five years since Caleb and I met. I knew he was a die-hard Nova fan—had been since college, their songs on repeat in his car, always.
If it made Caleb happy, it was worth it. That's what I'd told myself.
My phone lit up.
Caleb: I'm here. Outside VIP entrance.
I rubbed my frozen face, pulled on a smile, and headed for the curb.
A black Maybach rolled to a stop. Brand new, picked up last month to celebrate his company's Series C funding. The driver's door opened. Caleb stepped out in a black overcoat.
My smile died halfway.
The passenger door opened too.
Paige climbed out, thin knit sweater doing nothing against the cold, shoulders hunched, nose red. She hung back half a step behind Caleb like his shadow.
"Harper." Caleb stopped in front of me. His brow furrowed.
"What's she doing here?" I stared at Paige, jaw tight. "Caleb, you PROMISED me today."
Paige bit her lip, glanced up at me. "Harper, I'm sorry... I didn't mean for it to be today. I found out this afternoon my ex got engaged and I just—I completely lost it. Caleb was worried I'd do something stupid, so he's been with me all day."
"So?" I looked up at Caleb.
He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose—that thing he always did when his patience ran out.
"Look, Harper, Paige is in a really bad place right now. Her therapist said moderate depression, can't handle stress. She's been dying to see Nova. It might actually help her, you know?"
He paused.
"Just give her your ticket. You can wait at a café across the street, or grab an Uber home. Tomorrow I'll take you to Fifth Avenue, okay? That limited edition bag you wanted? I'll get it for you. We'll call it even."
The noise around us swelled—thousands of voices, music bleeding from inside. But in that moment, everything went silent.
"You're telling me to go home alone?" My voice came out dead flat. "Caleb, I spent six months getting these tickets. It's our five-year anniversary."
"I KNOW that." His frown deepened. "That's why I'm making it up to you, aren't I?"
"Making it up to me." I repeated the words slowly. "Since when do I need to be made up to?"
His expression hardened. "Jesus, can you stop being so petty? It's one ticket. Paige needs someone right now." He stared at me, voice dropping. "Since when are you so cold?"
Paige tugged his sleeve right on cue. Tears rolled down her face, one after another.
"You know what? Never mind, Caleb. I'll just go." Her voice shook. "I'll go back to my apartment, take my meds. You two don't need to fight because of me..."
"You're not going anywhere." He caught her wrist, grip firm.
Then he turned back to me, eyes filled with that look I'd seen a thousand times. Disappointment. For five years, every time I tried to push back, that look showed up like clockwork.
"Hand over the tickets. Don't make me do this out here."
His fingers wrapped tight around her wrist.
I stared at that hand. And suddenly my stomach went hollow. Not pain. Not the urge to cry.
Just exhaustion.
The kind that comes from backing down over and over until you're too tired to even ask yourself if he still loves you.
I didn't want to fight anymore. Not because I'd lose—but because he wasn't worth fighting for. Not anymore.
"Fine." I nodded, reached into my pocket, pulled out both tickets still warm from my hands.
Caleb relaxed. He thought I'd caved again. His hand extended, mouth already opening with some placating line.
I didn't give them to him.
I stepped around him and pressed both tickets into Paige's palm.
"Take them both." I met her shocked eyes, voice steady. "They're together. Perfect for him to keep you company. I won't wait around, and I don't want any bag."
Caleb's hand froze mid-air. "Harper, what the hell? Stop throwing a tantrum."
"I'm not." I stepped back, widening the gap. "I said they're TOGETHER. One person watching alone is no fun. Hope you two have a great time."
"Are you seriously gonna stand here and fight over a damn ticket?"
"Not over a ticket." I looked at him. "Five years' worth."
He stared for half a second. His mouth opened—
Same old line: "Stop being ridiculous."
I didn't look at him again. Just turned and walked toward the corner.
An empty cab sat at the curb. I pulled the door open and slid in.
"HARPER! Don't you walk away from me!" His voice behind me, tight with anger.
I didn't turn around.
"Upper East Side, please."
The car merged into traffic, leaving that sea of red and blue far behind. In the rearview mirror, Caleb's figure stretched under streetlights, shrank, then disappeared into the crowd and lights.
I didn't cry.
I thought my chest would hurt, that I wouldn't be able to breathe. But all I felt was relief. Like a weight I'd carried for five years had finally dropped.
My phone started vibrating.
Caleb.
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