The coffee in Elena's mug had gone cold three hours ago, a stagnant black pool mirroring her own dread.
She paced the length of her small living room, her thumb hovering over the green call icon.
How do you destroy your own life?
Do you do it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid?
"Leo, I slept with someone." Or do you ease into it, cushion the blow with context that ultimately sounds like excuses? "I was drunk, I was lonely, it didn't mean anything."
She had written seven different scripts in her notes app. She had deleted them all.
Every option felt like a grenade. If she told him she was drunk, he'd ask why she didn't call him for a ride. If she said it was a moment of weakness, he'd ask if their two years together were just moments of convenience.
"Just say it," she whispered to the empty room. "Just rip it out."
The guilt was a physical thing now, a stone lodged in her throat that made swallowing impossible. She couldn't keep carrying it. She needed him to know, and selfishly, she needed him to yell at her so the punishment could begin and she could start earning her forgiveness.
She pressed the button.
The ringtone buzzed - once, twice.
"Hey," Leo answered. His voice was warm, unsuspecting. The sound of it made her knees weak. "I was just thinking about you. You called right on time!"
Elena sank onto the sofa, curling into a ball. "Leo, I need to tell you something. And I need you to just… listen."
"Okay," he said, the warmth instantly cooling into a normal tone. "I'm listening."
She closed her eyes. "I cheated on you."
The silence that followed was absolute. It wasn't the silence of a dropped call; it was the vacuum of a room where all the air had been sucked out. Elena rushed to fill it, vomiting out the words she had practiced.
"It was last weekend. With Mark. It was stupid and I stopped it before it - well, no, I didn't stop it soon enough. But I regret it, Leo. God, I regret it so much. I feel sick."
She waited for the explosion. She braced herself for the shouting, the questions, the tears.
"...It's okay," Leo said.
Elena froze. She pulled the phone away to look at the screen, ensuring she hadn't hallucinated. She put it back to her ear. "What?"
"I said it's okay," Leo repeated. His voice was steady. eerie. "I'm not angry, Elena. I can't be. I'm not in a position to judge you."
Elena's heart hammered against her ribs. Hope, wild and desperate, clawed its way up her throat. "Why? What do you mean?"
"Because," Leo sighed, a sound that crackled with static. "I did something wrong, too. Something big."
The tears on Elena's cheeks went cold. He had secrets too. Suddenly, the dynamic shifted. She wasn't the villain anymore; they were just two flawed people in a mess. If he had screwed up, maybe he understood. Maybe this was the reset button they needed.
"You did?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and relief. "What happened? Did you… was it with someone else?"
"No," Leo said. "It wasn't that."
"Then what?" Elena pressed. "Tell me, Leo. Whatever it is, we can fix it. I forgive you. What is the bad thing you feel?"
"It's not guilt," he said softly. "It's foolishness."
"What did you do?"
"I trusted you."
The words hit her harder than a slap. They were spoken without malice, just a dry, factual observation of a failed experiment.
"Leo, please—"
"That was my mistake," he interrupted, his tone final. "I bet everything on you. That's on me. I won't make that mistake again."
"Leo, wait! Don't—"
Click.
The line went dead.
"Leo!" she screamed at the device.
She frantically tapped the screen to call him back. The phone rang once, then cut straight to voicemail.
She tried again. This time, it didn't even ring.
She stared at his contact card. Leo ❤️. The photo was of him holding her cat, grinning stupidly.
Suddenly, the screen flickered.
The photo vanished, replaced by a grey, faceless silhouette.
The heart emoji next to his name blinked out of existence.
Then, the name Leo dissolved.
All that remained was a string of cold, unassigned numbers.
+1 (555) 019-28337
She opened their text thread, her thumbs flying to type Please, just talk to me.
The message bubble turned green instead of blue.
Message Not Delivered.
She opened Instagram.
User not found.
Elena sat in the silence of her living room, the "send" button on her screen greyed out. He hadn't just left her. He had erased her. He had realized his mistake—trusting her—and he had corrected it with surgical precision.
She stared at the blank grey avatar, realizing that while she was full of regret, he was simply... gone.