The Way Out He Never Saw Coming - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading The Way Out He Never Saw Coming, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of The Way Out He Never Saw Coming.
Tears blurred my vision as I hit send. The taxi driver's words still echoed in my head, and out of nowhere, I missed my parents so much it ached. I pulled up my chat with Mom—her last message was only days ago, another not-so-subtle nudge about Grandpa's old-fashioned arrangement:
[Emily, just give it a chance. Seven years with Leon and nothing to show for it. That boy has no follow-through. Meet Ollie—you'd be surprised how he turned out…]
I flicked back to Leon's thread. My text sat there, unanswered. Of course. My chest caved in a little. With a shaky breath, I returned to Mom's message and finally typed:
[Okay. I'll meet him.]
My phone rang instantly.
"Emily! Finally!" Mom's voice was all relief until it faltered. "Though—small hiccup. Ollie just flew out to handle family business. You'll have to wait a bit…" A pause. Then, softer: "Honey… did something happen with Leon?"
I swallowed hard, swiping at my cheeks. "Yeah. We're done."
The silence on her end stretched before she exhaled—almost gratefully. "Oh, sweetheart. I've watched you pour everything into that boy. Seven years and not even a ring? Come home. Let me take care of you."
We talked until my shoulders loosened. Strangely, hearing Ollie wasn't an option yet felt like one less weight on my chest. After hanging up, my stomach growled—I hadn't eaten all day. I boiled noodles, poking at them lifelessly at the table.
My mind wandered to Leon's old teasing: "Em, you'd starve without me." Back then, it felt like love. He'd meal-prep for me like some grand romantic gesture. Now? The memory was foggy, like it belonged to someone else.
I thumbed open my contacts, hovering over his name. That unanswered text taunted me. Maybe I needed to hear his voice—just once—to really let go.
I dialed before I could rethink it.
Two rings. Then a woman's voice, light and easy: "Hello? Leon's in the shower—can I take a message?"
In the background, his laugh: "Babe, put the phone down…"
The world tilted. My grip on the phone turned white-knuckled. I hung up before my lungs remembered how to breathe.
Then—snap.
Photos flew. Frames shattered. Glass crunched under my feet as I wrecked every trace of us. Seven years reduced to debris in minutes.
When the storm passed, I stood there, heaving, surrounded by the wreckage. The apartment felt like a tomb.
I yanked my dusty suitcase from the closet and started packing.
[Emily, just give it a chance. Seven years with Leon and nothing to show for it. That boy has no follow-through. Meet Ollie—you'd be surprised how he turned out…]
I flicked back to Leon's thread. My text sat there, unanswered. Of course. My chest caved in a little. With a shaky breath, I returned to Mom's message and finally typed:
[Okay. I'll meet him.]
My phone rang instantly.
"Emily! Finally!" Mom's voice was all relief until it faltered. "Though—small hiccup. Ollie just flew out to handle family business. You'll have to wait a bit…" A pause. Then, softer: "Honey… did something happen with Leon?"
I swallowed hard, swiping at my cheeks. "Yeah. We're done."
The silence on her end stretched before she exhaled—almost gratefully. "Oh, sweetheart. I've watched you pour everything into that boy. Seven years and not even a ring? Come home. Let me take care of you."
We talked until my shoulders loosened. Strangely, hearing Ollie wasn't an option yet felt like one less weight on my chest. After hanging up, my stomach growled—I hadn't eaten all day. I boiled noodles, poking at them lifelessly at the table.
My mind wandered to Leon's old teasing: "Em, you'd starve without me." Back then, it felt like love. He'd meal-prep for me like some grand romantic gesture. Now? The memory was foggy, like it belonged to someone else.
I thumbed open my contacts, hovering over his name. That unanswered text taunted me. Maybe I needed to hear his voice—just once—to really let go.
I dialed before I could rethink it.
Two rings. Then a woman's voice, light and easy: "Hello? Leon's in the shower—can I take a message?"
In the background, his laugh: "Babe, put the phone down…"
The world tilted. My grip on the phone turned white-knuckled. I hung up before my lungs remembered how to breathe.
Then—snap.
Photos flew. Frames shattered. Glass crunched under my feet as I wrecked every trace of us. Seven years reduced to debris in minutes.
When the storm passed, I stood there, heaving, surrounded by the wreckage. The apartment felt like a tomb.
I yanked my dusty suitcase from the closet and started packing.
End of The Way Out He Never Saw Coming Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to The Way Out He Never Saw Coming book page.