Chapter 7 - The Breaking Point
That evening, my phone rang while I was packing up my desk.
I looked at the caller ID.
Jason.
I hadn't spoken to him since Saturday afternoon when he walked out of the Grand Pavilion and disappeared into the gardens. My phone had been flooded with his frantic texts, voicemails, and apologies over the last forty-eight hours, all of which I had left unread and unanswered.
I swiped to accept the call and held the phone to my ear without saying a word.
“Valerie,” Jason’s voice sounded hollow, broken, and exhausted. He sounded like a man who hadn't slept in three days. “Please... please tell me you’re still there.”
“I’m here, Jason,” I said quietly.
“I’m at my apartment,” he choked out. “My mother isn't talking to me. She’s blaming me for not handling you better. My firm put me on administrative leave until the corporate audit is finished. And... and you’re gone. The apartment is completely empty of your things.”
I looked over at the cardboard boxes stacked neatly by my apartment door earlier that afternoon. I had packed up every single thing I owned within two hours, leaving behind not a single sock, coffee mug, or memory.
“Jason, what did you expect?” I asked.
“I expected us to talk!” he shouted, the desperation bleeding back into his tone. “I expected us to figure it out! We were getting married, Val! You can’t just walk away because my mother went too far!”
“She didn't just ‘go too far,’ Jason,” I said, my voice hardening. “She committed arson, she orchestrated financial fraud, and she spent five years trying to convince me I wasn't worthy of standing next to you. And every single time she did it, you looked the other way because it was easier than standing up to her.”
Silence stretched across the phone line. Heavy, suffocating silence.
“I was raised by her,” Jason whispered, his voice trembling on the edge of tears. “You don't understand what it’s like growing up under her thumb. You always had to fight for everything, Val. You’re strong. I never had to be strong because she always made sure everything was handled.”
“And that’s your excuse?” I asked softly. “That you’re too cowardly to be your own man? Jason, I love the man I thought you were. The man who sat in my kitchen and made pancakes in sweatpants. But that man was just a costume you wore when you were away from her. The real you is the one who stood in the bridal suite and asked me why I had to escalate things while your mother held a lighter to my dress.”
“Val, please—”
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“Don't call me again, Jason,” I interrupted, my voice steady and final. “The wedding is canceled. The engagement is over. And my lawyer will be sending over the dissolution paperwork in the morning.”
I hit end call, turned off my phone, and dropped it into my bag.
