Now, I was grateful for this unexpected turn of events. It gave me a decent reason to bow out gracefully.
I had planned to leave tonight. But rushing off while injured, barely able to drag my luggage, felt too humiliating. Seven days—that was perfect. Enough time to sever ties completely and leave with some dignity.
After the surgery, I returned to the apartment I shared with Mason. I mentally mapped out my seven-day breakup plan, starting by tossing out old junk. The dusty couple’s water cups went first, followed by the couple’s shirts, tags still attached. They, like my one-sided love, belonged in the trash.
It was 1 a.m. and I was sorting through thesis papers when Mason suddenly walked in. I was a bit startled—mostly because, just an hour ago, he posted his first-ever Instagram post. The caption read, [I’ll never let you get hurt again,] with a picture of him on one knee, applying medicine to Naomi. The note section had exploded.
Most people were speculating about the mystery girl. A few mutual friends, however, jumped to the wrong conclusion.
[Mason and Jessica finally went public! Wishing you two the best!]
[This pose looks like a major hint!]