The Devil's Mercy

Evelyn POV

I checked the left entrance seven times during the ceremony.

It was the door closest to the parking garage. Ethan always used it when he was late. Dean Whitmore paused for effect a fourth time, and the corner of my diploma holder pressed a red groove into my palm.

He had warned me two nights ago that he might not make it. Product launch. Compressed schedule. He had said it with his laptop open, scrolling while I talked.

I'd told him it was fine.

Three rows ahead, Jade Wells's chair was empty. We had shared two classes and one miserable group project. I wondered if she had gotten sick, then forgot about her when the dean finally released us.

Maya found me in the aisle with her graduation stole hanging off one shoulder.

"Where's Ethan?"

"Working."

She looked past me toward the doors. "Maybe he's at the apartment blowing up balloons."

"He knows I hate balloons."

"Then definitely balloons."

I smiled because she wanted me to. For half a second I pictured it anyway: Ethan swearing at a roll of tape, helium balloons knocking against our ceiling.

He had driven two hours once to bring me soup when I had the flu. He used to do things without being asked.

Her parents reached us with a camera already up, and I stepped out of the frame.

"Text me later," Maya said over her mother's shoulder.

"I will."

Outside, families crowded the steps with flowers and cameras. A little boy in a clip-on tie was crying because someone had sat on his balloon. I called Ethan from the bus stop. Five rings, then voicemail.

Ceremony's over. Heading home, I texted.

The message stayed unread through the first bus and most of the second. I turned the diploma holder over in my lap until the same corner found the mark in my palm.

Our apartment was six minutes from the stop.

The front door moved when I put my key in.

I stared at the gap between the door and the frame. Ethan forgot to lock it sometimes when he carried groceries up. I pushed it open with two fingers.

"Ethan?"

My coffee mug was still on the side table, a dry ring inside it from this morning. The blanket was folded over the couch exactly where I had left it. Nothing looked wrong until I reached the bedroom.

The door was almost closed.

I heard the mattress before I opened it.

Ethan jerked upright. Jade grabbed the sheet and pulled it to her chest. For one stupid second, I noticed her earrings. Small gold hoops. She had worn them to every meeting of our group project.

"Evie—"

"What are you doing?"

Nobody answered it.

Jade was already reaching for her clothes. Ethan said my name again, softer this time, as if volume had been the problem.

I shut the door.

The diploma holder was still tucked under my arm. I carried it to the couch and sat with it in my lap. My fingers shook against the blue cardboard.

Behind the bedroom door, drawers opened. Fabric rustled. Neither of them spoke loudly enough for me to hear.

Jade came out first. Her jacket hung from one shoulder, and she had missed a button on her blouse. She stopped when she saw me.

I waited.

Her mouth opened. Then she looked at the floor and left.

The latch clicked behind her.

Ethan appeared a minute later in a gray T-shirt and jeans, barefoot. His hair was still flattened on one side. He stood near the hallway instead of coming into the room.

"I know how this looks."

I set the diploma beside me and went to the bedroom.

"Evie."

I pulled my suitcase from under the bed. One wheel caught on the frame, and I had to yank it twice before it came free.

"Can you stop for a second?" he asked. "Please."

I opened the closet.

"The lease is in your name. You need to handle the renewal."

"Can we not talk about the lease right now?"

I took down three shirts at once. The hangers knocked together.

"I was going to tell you."

"When?"

He rubbed both hands over his face. "I don't know."

That sounded true.

I folded the shirts badly and put them in the suitcase.

"Things haven't been right for a while," he said. "You know that."

I reached past him for my charger. He moved aside, then followed me to the nightstand.

"I kept thinking it would come back."

The cord snagged behind the bed. I pulled until the plug scraped across the floor.

"What would?"

He didn't answer immediately. I looked at him then.

"The heat," he said. "Any of it. With you, everything feels like we're roommates. I don't even know if you want me half the time."

My fingers stopped on the charger cord.

He saw. He kept going.

"Jade makes me feel wanted. You don't. You never—" He broke off and looked toward the door. "You don't have that kind of pull, Evie. I'm sorry. You just don't."

The refrigerator started humming in the kitchen. Somebody laughed on the sidewalk below our window.

I coiled the charger and put it in the suitcase.

"This isn't because of her," he said. "That's what I'm trying to tell you."

I zipped the suitcase.

He moved into the doorway. "You're really leaving? After three years?"

"Move."

"You're upset." His voice went soft and patient. "Take a minute. Then we can talk like adults."

I slapped him.

The sound was smaller than I expected. His head turned. He touched his cheek and stared at me.

My palm burned.

"Move," I said again.

This time he did.

The diploma holder was still on the couch. I pushed it into my bag on the way past.

I carried the suitcase into the hall and pulled the door shut behind me. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead. Beige carpet. A neighbor's takeout menu on the floor, a shoe print across it. Nothing in the hallway had changed.

I pressed the elevator button. Somewhere above me the cables shifted and didn't come down. I waited two seconds, then took the stairs.

On the second landing, my phone rang. Ethan's name lit the screen until it stopped. I kept going, one hand on the rail, the suitcase thudding against every step behind me.

By the time I reached the lobby, the diploma holder had slipped halfway out of my bag. I shoved it back in without looking at it.

Graduation photographs were still happening across campus. Somewhere, Maya was probably holding a bouquet and complaining about her shoes.

I pushed through the front door into the fog.

It had come in off the harbor while I was upstairs. I couldn't see the end of the block. I stood on the step with the suitcase handle in my fist and nowhere I had planned to sleep.