Page 51 of Before Dawn

Joshua finally looked at me, confusion creasing his forehead. “What do you mean?” His voice wavered, the slightest tremor of unease creeping in. “Aren’t you leaving to see Azzaria?”

I stared at him, something in me breaking and hardening all at once.

Taking a deep breath, I found the strength to say the words that had been festering inside me for far too long.

“I’m moving,” I said, my voice steadier now, despite the storm raging inside.

His expression shifted, lips parting slightly, but no real understanding dawned.

“Is this a joke?”

“The only joke here is you,” I continued, the memory of betrayal still fresh in my mind. “Five years andyouthrew it all away.Youruined us.Youdon’t care.Youlet me feel like a burden.Youbroke everything. I gaveyoueverything that I couldn’t afford to lose. Every time I would pull myself together and want to leave, you came out of the blue saying you’d change and I believed you and you’d go right back to square one. What more is there to give you? The only time I matter is when I’m spreading my legs as you told me the other day. That’s what I’m there for, right? I made you who you are. When you couldn’t do shit yourself, I did it and now, I’m fucking done.”

He was speechless, his eyes darting away from my accusing gaze, searching for a way to shift the blame, to justify his actions. But there was no justification, no excuse that could erase the hurt he had caused.

“This is unfa-”

My anger flared, fueled by years of silent suffering, by the pain of knowing I had been deceived. “Don’t you dare try to shift the blame,” I spat, my voice dripping with venom.

“Why now?” he pleaded, reaching out for me as if hoping to hold onto what had already slipped away between us. “I’ll do better.”

But I recoiled, the distance between us widening with each passing second. “Why now?” I echoed, my voice hollow with resignation. “Because I can’t do this anymore. Because I deserve better. Because this should’ve been done the first time you showed me you didn’t want me. Because the cheating and the alcohol and bars with your friends were more important. Because I’m nothing more than an easy way for you to get yourself off. Because you’re never there when I need you.”

He leaned in, his lips seeking solace, and I stepped back, my demeanor hardening as disgust washed over my features.

“You know all those times when you blamed your dad?” I said softly, my voice trembling, but firm. “When you said you hated him?”

He stopped, a subtle tension creeping into his shoulders. He didn’t look at me, but I could feel the heaviness of his silence.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. “You’re just like him.”

His body stiffened. His eyes flashed with a flicker of anger, and I could see the fire building inside him. But it didn’t stop me. “Go ahead, Joshua.” My voice suddenly sharpened. “Break the vases. Be your daddy’s son.”

He didn’t move a muscle.

Finally, he took a step back, the anger draining from his face. His breath came in sharp bursts.

The words escaped me in a whisper, the finality of them cutting through the air like a blade. “You came to grab your coat, do it, and leave.”

And with that, I turned away, leaving him to grapple with the burden of his regrets, alone in the silence of our shattered love.

By the time Aurora returned with lunch, I was nearly done packing. Her bright smile faded the moment she stepped inside, her gaze sweeping over the last few boxes and then landing on me. She didn’t have to say anything—the weight in the air spoke for itself.

We ate in relative silence, the only sounds coming from the rustling of paper bags and the occasional hum of conversation from the interview in the background. The Shake Shack burger should have been comforting, but it tasted like nothing.

Before we knew it, night had fallen. Our parents’ calls became incessant, checking in, worrying. With the final box sealed and stacked by the door, we finally left.

Aurora was unusually quiet as we drove, but I could feel her watching me, concern radiating off her in waves.

“Abi,” she called softly. “Are you o—?”

“I will be.” My voice was steadier than I expected, but my chest still ached. “I just needed to put that part of my life behind me.”

She exhaled slowly, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “I get it, but don’t beat yourself up over it. It was five years, yeah, but you have an eternity ahead of you. You have no idea what the future holds.”

The moment her words settled, Mikkel immediately came to mind, and I hated myself for it. A fresh wave of guilt crashed over me. I had just left someone, and yet my thoughts were tangled with someone else.

Fuck me.

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