Ellie POV:
"We broke up," I repeated, my voice steady, the words echoing in the suddenly silent apartment. Carter blinked, his jaw slack. Bridget's triumphant smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. They hadn't expected this. They had expected tears, arguments, a desperate plea for reconciliation. They had expected the old Ellie.
"Did you forget what I told you?" I continued, stepping out of the shadows, my presence now undeniable. "If you went on that ski trip with Bridget this weekend, we were over. Those were my exact words."
Carter' s eyes darted around the room, avoiding my gaze, a tell-tale sign of his discomfort. He knew. He absolutely knew. He just never thought I' d follow through.
"Don't come crying to me when you're lonely," I mimicked his exact words, the ones he'd shouted at me, his face contorted in anger, just before he walked out the door for his "guys' trip." My voice was light, a stark contrast to the venom behind the memory.
Suddenly, Carter let out a primal roar, his fist slamming down on the small side table next to him. The cheap veneer splintered, and a small ceramic lamp toppled, crashing to the floor in a shower of porcelain shards.
Bridget screamed, a sharp, piercing sound that cut through the tension. "Carter! Your hand!" She rushed to his side, fussing over his knuckles, which were already turning red. "Oh my god, look what you've done, Ellie! He's hurt!"
She glared at me, her eyes narrow and accusatory. "You selfish bitch! How could you do this to him? After everything he planned? He was going to propose to you, you ungrateful cow!"
My breath hitched. A proposal? The words hung in the air, heavy and absurd.
Carter, still cradling his hand, looked up at Bridget, his anger momentarily subdued by her display of concern. "Bridget, no, don't-"
"No, Carter, she needs to know!" Bridget cut him off, her voice rising in a theatrical crescendo. "He bought you that Tiffany bracelet you've been drooling over! He was going to ask you to marry him tonight! And you just… you just packed his boxes and threw him out? How could you be so cruel?"
She pointed a dramatic finger at the shattered lamp. "Look! He's heartbroken! He loves you, Ellie! He was going to make you his wife!"
Carter' s eyes, now swollen with what looked suspiciously like self-pity, met mine. "She's right, Ellie," he mumbled, his voice hoarse. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the small, velvet Tiffany box. He snapped it open, revealing the delicate silver bracelet nestled inside. "This was for you. I was going to ask you tonight."
He took a step towards me, the box extended. "Ellie, please. Let's not do this. You're upset, I get it. But we can fix this. You know I love you. Let me put this on you." He tried to take my wrist.
I recoiled as if burned. The bracelet, once a symbol of my deepest desires, now felt like a shackle.
Bridget scoffed, a low, guttural sound. "Pathetic. Even after all this, you still want him?" Her eyes gleamed with malice. "Some women just don't know a good thing when they have it."
The sudden declaration of a proposal, the flashing of the bracelet, it was all too much. My mind reeled, pulling me back to that final, fateful argument. It wasn't a week ago, not really. It felt like a lifetime.
Flashback:
"Carter, listen to me," I had pleaded, standing in the cramped hallway, blocking his exit. "I can't do this anymore. This 'friendship' with Bridget? It's not a friendship. It's a constant invasion. She's always there, always subtly undermining us, always making jokes at my expense that you just laugh off."
He had been pulling on his ski jacket, his back to me. "Ellie, you're being ridiculous. Bridget is my friend. We've known each other since college. You're just being jealous."
"Jealous?" My voice had cracked, pain searing through my chest. "Is it jealousy when your girlfriend asks you to set boundaries with a woman who constantly flirts with you, who posts suggestive photos with you, who clearly wants more?"
He had finally turned, his face tight with annoyance. "She doesn't! You're imagining things! And even if she did, what does it matter? I'm with you!" He hadn't looked convinced himself.
"Then prove it," I had said, my voice dangerously quiet. This was it. The line in the sand. "That ski trip this weekend. With Bridget. With her and her friends who all think this is hilarious. If you go on that trip, Carter, we are over. I mean it this time. This isn't a threat. This is an ultimatum."
He had stared at me, his eyes cold. A beat of silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken words, with years of unspoken resentment. I had held my breath, pleading with my eyes for him to choose me. For him to finally choose us.
His phone had buzzed in his hand, a text message from Bridget, undoubtedly cheering him on, telling him not to be "whipped." I could almost hear her voice, a tiny, insidious whisper in his ear.
He had let out a short, bitter laugh. "Fine!" he'd shouted, the words ripping through the fragile thread of our relationship. "Go ahead! Don't come crying to me when you're lonely!"
And then he had walked out, slamming the door behind him, leaving me alone in the sudden, echoing silence.
End Flashback.
Back in the present, Carter was still holding out the Tiffany box, his eyes pleading, his voice thick with a fake remorse. "Ellie, please. I messed up. I know I did. But we can fix this. Just take the bracelet. Let me put it on you. We can forget all this, okay?"
He stepped closer, trying to thread the bracelet onto my wrist. I yanked my arm away, bumping against one of his packed boxes. The box shifted, revealing a glimpse of his worn college hoodie, a relic of a past we would never revisit. It was a tangible reminder of everything I was finally letting go of.
