: Settling the Score
I looked at his twisted expression and was suddenly struck by how absurd this all was.
"I'm tired."
I left him with those words, turned, and grabbed the suitcase I had just set down. Without a backward glance, I headed for the door.
A hand yanked my wrist.
Joel Lowell's voice rose. "What the hell is your problem? You just got back and you're throwing some random tantrum? Sienna, when did you become so unreasonable?!"
I wrenched my hand free, the anger I had been deliberately suppressing now boiling over.
"Joel Lowell, you're the one making a scene! You texted me saying you missed me, so I worked overtime, crammed five days of work into three, and traveled through the night just to get back to you."
"And you? From the moment I walked through that door, have you shown even a shred of concern? Do you even remember that today is our fifth anniversary?!"
The words came out as a shout, and my eyes felt dry and strained.
But Joel Lowell just stared at me, a blank look on his face. He clearly had no idea it was our anniversary.
I laughed, a short, self-mocking sound.
"If you forgot our anniversary, then what was this 'surprise' you had for me?"
Joel Lowell stammered, unable to answer.
I didn't look at him again. I just turned and walked away.
'Why get bogged down in a question when I already knew the answer?'
The door slammed shut behind me, cutting off all sound.
The chaos subsided into silence, and my heart sank into a pit of despair.
Joel Lowell didn't follow.
Standing in the freezing hallway, I felt a chill seep deep into my bones.
...
I sat numbly in a hotel room all night.
At dawn, I realized my nails had dug deep, bloody crescents into my palms.
I picked up my phone and scrolled through my chat history with Joel Lowell.
Three years ago, I took out all my savings to scrape together enough for his tuition and living expenses to study at an art academy in France.
He'd held me, sobbing uncontrollably. "Sienna, when I get back, we'll get married. I'll never marry anyone but you!"
I believed him.
To make sure he could study abroad without a worry, I worked three jobs a day, took on every project I could get my hands on, and worked myself into the hospital with a bleeding stomach. Even then, when I called him, I just downplayed it and said I had a cold.
On the other end of the line, he sounded anxious, but in the background, I could faintly hear Ivy Seymour's voice:
"Joel, hurry up, the movie is about to start."
He hung up in a rush, promising to call me back that night.
I waited all night. My phone screen lit up and went dark, over and over, but his call never came.
Instead, I saw their picture on Ivy's social media feed.
In the photo, they were nestled together under the Eiffel Tower, their smiles radiant.
The caption read: "Best buds should see the world together."
So, Ivy Seymour had gone to France, too.
Joel Lowell had never told me.
Back then, I'd consoled myself. 'They grew up together, they're like siblings. I shouldn't be so petty.'
Now, those details I had deliberately ignored replayed in my mind, frame by frame.
After he returned, we opened our own design studio.
I was the one who convinced our biggest client, landing a major project that was enough to make the studio's reputation overnight.
I drank too much at the celebration party and wanted him to pick me up.
I called him countless times, but he never answered.
In the end, a colleague took me home.
The next day, he explained with red-rimmed eyes that Ivy Seymour had just been dumped, gotten dead drunk at a bar, and he had to stay with her all night.
"Sienna, I'm all she has. I can't just abandon her."
My heart ached for him, and I forgave him.
'But I forgot to ask, why did Ivy's breakup require him to stay with her all night?'
'Why was his phone off?'
I closed my eyes, a stinging pressure building behind them.
A moment later, I slowly opened my eyes and dialed a number.
"Hey, Wen, do me a favor."
Wen was my college roommate. Now, she's a private investigator.
"I need you to look into someone for me—Ivy Seymour. Also, find out everything you can about her and Joel Lowell's movements in France three years ago. The more detailed, the better. And especially… check the local hospitals. See if there are any records of Ivy Seymour having an abortion."
After hanging up, I stared out at the glaring sun, but all I felt was ice in my heart.
'Joel Lowell, I gave you countless chances.'
'If all of this is true, then all that's left between us is a final reckoning.'
