The End Began in That Café

Charles' POV

It was supposed to be a relaxing weekend getaway with my girlfriend. But when I walked out of the rest stop bathroom on the highway, both my car and my girlfriend were gone.

I called her right away.

She sounded calm, even a little impatient as she answered, “Jason’s car broke down on the way. I couldn’t just leave him stranded, so I went to pick him up.”

Fortunately, a kind stranger gave me a lift to our destination later that day.

That night, I saw Jason Kingsley’s post on social media with a caption, [Traveling alone is lonely, but with someone you love, it becomes romantic.]

The photo beneath it was a close-up selfie of him and my girlfriend, Naomi Sutton, cheek to cheek on a boat ride at Lake Trasimeno.

Strangely, I didn’t even get angry this time. I even gave his post a like.

——

Moments later, Naomi called me. “I just saw the hotel check you in. You made it there safely?”

“Yeah,” I replied flatly.

The truth was, I didn’t have a choice. My luggage was still in the car.

She quickly added, “I dropped your suitcase off in the hotel lobby. Go pick it up yourself.”

“Where are you going now?” I asked.

“To the night market with Jason,” she said matter-of-factly. “You should just rest at the hotel.”

I could hear muffled sounds on the other end before Jason’s apologetic voice came through.

“Charles, I’m so sorry. My car broke down, and I didn’t think Naomi would actually turn back for me.”

Naomi’s voice followed right after, a little mocking. “I told you not to worry about him. He’s a grown man. He won’t get lost.”

“It’s my fault,” Jason said. “Please don’t blame her.”

“Why are you apologizing to him?” she snapped. “You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Naomi, don’t say that,” he murmured. “Charles might get upset.”

I listened quietly as they went back and forth, then said evenly, “I’m not upset. You two have fun.”

After a shower, I sat on the hotel sofa scrolling through my phone when a message popped up.

[Jason: It’s a shame you didn’t come, Charles. The night market food is amazing!]

Then, photo after photo followed: photos of Naomi feeding him grilled squid, waiting in line to buy him fried blue cheese bites, Jason smearing cotton candy on her cheek, and the two of them sharing an artsy popsicle, smiling like a couple in love.

[Jason: What do you want to eat? I’ll bring you some.]

[Me: No need.]

I couldn’t help but remember our trip six months ago. I’d suggested we check out the local night market then, too.

But Naomi was curled up on the hotel couch playing games. Without even looking up, she said, “That’s just junk food. It’ll make me fat. I’m not going.”

She didn’t come back until past midnight that night. When she did, she tossed a greasy takeout box in front of me and said, “Jason thought you might be hungry, so he packed this for you.”

I opened it and frowned. It was just a messy mix of their leftovers.

“I’m going to his room next door,” she said casually. “We’re gonna play a few rounds of our game. You should sleep.”

Eight after saying that, she left, and I immediately threw the box straight into the trash.

She didn’t come back that night.

By morning, I’d already packed my bags and taken the train home alone.

That night, I woke up to her shaking me awake.

Her expression was annoyed as she snapped, “Why did you just leave without telling me? Do you know how long I had to drive back alone? I’m exhausted!”

I yawned lazily. “Didn’t want to interrupt your fun.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t get all passive-aggressive with me. Jason cut his trip short because he was worried about you! I only came back because of him.”

Then she tilted her head, studying me. “Wait, are you actually jealous?”

Before I could answer, she raised her voice. “Charles, can you stop being so childish? Jason’s like a younger brother to me. We grew up next door! Of course, I’m going to look out for him. He’s only twenty-two, while you’re already twenty-six. Why are you competing with a kid? It’s embarrassing!”

“I’ve been driving back and forth for two days, walking around till my legs hurt, barely sleeping, and you can’t even be a little understanding?” she went on.

I almost laughed. She wasn’t driving for me. She wasn’t walking with me. She wasn’t losing sleep because of me. Why on earth should I be the one to “understand”?

The next day, I went to the office to work overtime.

Around noon, Naomi called. She’d clearly just woken up, as her voice was hoarse. “Charles, where the hell are you? You didn’t even cook!”

“I’m at work,” I said simply.

“Don’t lie. It’s Sunday.”

“I told you before, I’m working this weekend,” I said with a small smile.

Of course, she’d never remembered anything I said.