Chapter 2

02

I went back to the apartment we shared and threw all his stuff into the hallway.

Suits, ties, his razor, and even that hideous hand-knitted sweater Lyra had made for him that he kept hidden in the back of the closet.

As the movers arrived to take my boxes, Zander's name flashed on my phone.

I hit decline and blocked every number associated with him.

I remembered when he was courting me three years ago. He set up a heart of candles under my dorm window and got soaked by the sprinklers, but he just kept smiling.

Thinking back, he was probably crying for Lyra that night too. She had swallowed half a bottle of cold medicine the day before.

My screen lit up again and again. It was a barrage of texts from his mother. "Scarlett, don't be stubborn." "Zander loves you." "Lyra needs someone, he can't leave right now."

I opened the chat and typed one last thing. "Ma'am, I suggest you take Lyra to a psych ward. While you're at it, get Zander checked out too. See if he has a secret kink for being abused."

The moment I sent it, she blocked me.

Good. Saved me the trouble.

While packing the nightstand, I found a locked metal box.

It belonged to Zander. I had asked him what was inside once, and he told me it was just unimportant old junk.

I used a screwdriver to pry it open. Inside was a stack of photos.

There were photos of Zander and Lyra from kindergarten all the way to high school. The box was stuffed with them.

There were a few photos of Zander and me, too, but the edges were torn and jagged.

At the very bottom lay a yellowing piece of notebook paper. It was Lyra's handwriting. "Zan, when I get better, let's get married, okay?"

The date was five years ago.

I tossed the box into the trash. Zander always told me Lyra was frail and needed care.

It turned out her only sickness was a toxic obsession with things that didn't belong to her.

The doorbell rang while I was packing the last box of books.

I looked through the peephole and saw Zander. He had dark circles under his eyes and bloodstains still on his shirt. He looked like he'd been through a war.

"Scarlett, open the door." His voice was raspy and thick with fatigue.

I ignored him and kept taping the box.

He started pounding on the door. The frame rattled. "Scarlett! Don't push me!"

I took out my phone, started recording, and walked to the door. "Zander, let's be clear. What am I pushing you to do? Am I pushing you to stop enabling a maniac? Or am I pushing you to stop treating my feelings like garbage?"

The noise outside stopped. After a moment, his muffled voice came through. "I know I messed up, Scarlett. Just let me in, please?"

"No." I leaned against the door, listening to my steady heartbeat. "Zander, you and Lyra deserve each other. I've thrown the key into the ocean."