Chapter 6

I'd moved out two days ago, and Callum had only just noticed.

That alone told me how little attention he'd been paying to me.

I didn't reply.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with several notifications.

Callum had stopped sharing his location with me. He'd removed me from our shared accounts and disconnected the apps we'd linked together over the years.

Back when things were good between us, we'd shared almost everything.

Even during our worst arguments, neither of us had ever bothered disconnecting those accounts.

Now he was cutting those ties one by one.

I could imagine how angry he was, waiting for me to panic and call him.

But it didn't matter anymore.

Over the next two days, I threw myself into my new job.

Callum didn't contact me directly, although he made sure I saw plenty of pictures of him with Briar on social media.

He even changed his profile picture to a plain black image and removed our engagement photo from his Facebook cover.

Our matching profile pictures and couple nicknames disappeared, too.

I knew what he was doing.

He wanted me to come crawling back, begging him to forgive me.

Too bad I wasn't interested.

On the third evening, I came home to find a cardboard box sitting outside my door.

My name was written across the top.

I carried it inside and opened it.

The box was filled with things from our relationship.

The first love letter Callum had written me in college.

Our matching sweatshirts.

Photographs from vacations we'd taken together.

There were so many little reminders of the years we'd spent together.

I picked up the letter and unfolded it.

For a moment, memories came rushing back.

I remembered the boy who'd waited outside my classroom just to walk me home.

The man who'd once looked at me like I was the most important person in his world.

We'd had good years together.

I couldn't pretend otherwise.

But those years were over.

And no amount of remembering would change what Callum had become.

I took the box to the fireplace.

One by one, I fed the letters, photographs, and other old keepsakes into the flames.

The paper curled and blackened. Familiar faces disappeared into ash.

I watched quietly.

Strangely, I felt nothing.

No regret. No urge to rescue anything.

Just a calm I hadn't experienced in a long time.

Suddenly, the front door swung open.

"Maren! What the hell are you doing?"

Callum rushed into the living room.

The moment he saw the fire, his expression changed.

He lunged toward the fireplace and grabbed a photograph that was already burning.

"Callum, don't—"

He ignored me.

He pulled it out with his bare hands and frantically patted out the flames.

By the time the fire was out, blisters had formed across his fingers.

He barely seemed to notice.

Instead, he turned on me.

"Have you lost your mind? How could you burn these?"

I glanced at the damaged photograph in his hand.

"Didn't you send them to me?"

"So?"

"I assumed you wanted me to get rid of them."

He stared at me in disbelief.

"Maren, those are our memories! Do you have any idea what they mean to us?"

Of course I knew.

Callum knew I was sentimental.

He'd sent those things because he expected me to remember how happy we'd once been.

It was his usual way of making peace after an argument.

He'd offer some small gesture, and I'd take it as an apology.

Then I'd forgive him, even when he hadn't actually admitted doing anything wrong.

For years, I'd been the one who gave in first.

The one who apologized.

The one who tried to make everything right again.

But I was tired of it.

I looked at the photograph in his hand.

"They were just sitting in a box. I figured there was no point keeping them."

Callum seemed genuinely shocked by my answer.

For several seconds, he didn't speak.

Then he let out a long sigh.

"Okay, Maren. Enough. I know you're upset."

I said nothing.

"Look, I'll admit you were right about Briar's proposal. You pointed out that mistake because you were trying to protect the company."

That was the first time he'd admitted it.

"But you have to understand my position," he continued. "Her father is a major shareholder. I couldn't just embarrass his daughter in front of everyone."

He softened his voice. "I know I hurt you. I'm sorry, all right?"

I watched him without responding.

"Come back to work. You can have your vice president position back. Briar will keep hers, and you'll both be on the same level." He paused. "Just stay out of her projects from now on. That should make everyone happy."

I almost laughed.

He was still acting as though everything he'd done was for the good of the company.

But what about all the times he'd chosen Briar outside of work?

When I'd been sick in bed with a terrible flu, I'd asked him to come home and take care of me.

He'd left me alone because Briar needed him.

And on our sixth anniversary, I'd prepared a special dinner and waited for him all evening.

He never came.

Briar had mentioned wanting to see fireworks, so Callum had arranged an extravagant private display for her.

Meanwhile, I'd sat at home watching our dinner go cold.

Yet he still expected me to believe he only treated her differently because of her father.

I didn't bother pointing out the obvious.

Callum seemed to take my silence as agreement.

"There's just one condition," he added. "Before you come back, you need to apologize to Briar."

He looked at me seriously.

"You did hurt her that day. Whatever happened between you two, dumping food on her crossed a line."

He stepped closer.

"Once she accepts your apology, you can come back to the company."