Ella

Kaleb wears the same cologne he did in high school. Something clean and spicy. It's all over his pillows and sheets, despite him not sleeping in his bed.

Rolling over, I squint against the sunshine streaming through the window. It's covered by a thin layer of city haze, and my chest feels heavy with a similar haze. As does my mind. Guilt also permeates my skull. I can't believe I slept in Kaleb's bed on his first night in Vancouver.

Sitting up, I shake my head in disgust while rubbing my tired eyes.

This is not the welcoming Kaleb deserved, dealing with all my relationship shit—even if I was just made aware of it last night.

I expel a deep sigh, my eyes fixating on the duffel bag in the corner. My eyebrows furrow in confusion for a moment. Then I remember Kaleb collecting some of my belongings. While it was a kind gesture, I shouldn't have left. Ryland and Janae should've. Permanently. I pay most of the rent. Plus, the apartment was mine before Ryland moved in. My job pays well enough for me to afford it. And I'm not leaving.

No way in hell.

Ryland can have Janae. Janae can have Ryland. But that apartment is mine. I'm not giving it up.

The sudden wave of determination overpowers that sadness encompassing my heart. I kick the covers off and gather my bag. After I get ready for the day, I'm storming over there. Then I'll kick Ryland out; make sure he knows we're done. That I'm done with him. No more gaslighting. No more justifying my decisions or my actions. Janae can deal with his toxic ass.

Taking a deep breath, I exit the bedroom and walk down the hallway to the bathroom, my bag in hand. I can hear movement in the kitchen, which is a good thing. It means Kaleb's busy and he won't see me like this: frizzy hair, leftover and streaked makeup, and tired eyes. While pots and pans clang, I slip into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

Then I get to work.

Using the bar of soap resting on the edge of the sink, I scrub my face until it's pink and there are no remnants of last night. Thanks to Kaleb's sanity, I have everything I need for my morning routine: skincare products, makeup, my toothbrush, dry shampoo, a brush, and comfortable clothes. Taking my time feels good; I'm not rushing to get out of the bathroom for Ryland. He was always so particular about his bathroom schedule or being on time for an event. We always had to leave half an hour early, despite his work being minutes away.

After I'm ready, I saunter into the kitchen. It smells of coffee and pancakes, which makes my stomach grumble. Kaleb is trying to flip the pancake that's cooking in the pan while sipping a coffee. A small smile appears on my lips. Kaleb is excellent at hockey; he can do anything. But for basic things, like cooking breakfast, he's a terrible multitasker.

And I'm proven right when the pancake ends up on the floor, disfigured and full of dirt.

"Shit," he curses, setting his coffee and the pan down. He stoops down to pick up the wonky pancake. When he inspects it, I have to speak up.

"The five-second rule does not apply, Kaleb. Don't even think about it."

He doesn't jump at the sound of my voice. Instead, he looks at me, grinning. "Why not? Extra protein."

I wrinkle my nose. "I'll stick with protein powder, thank you."

Shrugging, he tosses the pancake into the garbage. Then he wipes his hands on a cloth and turns back to the bacon.

A crease forms between my brows. "Where did you get all this food?"

Last night, Kaleb's fridge was empty, save for leftover pizza and some beer.

"Brenna stopped by an hour ago. She was worried I'd starve or resort to ordering takeout."

Sounds like Brenna. When I moved in, she brought me a care pack. It had tampons, toilet paper, paper towel, bars of Dove soap, and even some cute peach-coloured towels.

Kaleb grabs two plates and divides the bacon. It's followed by two pancakes each and a piece of rye toast slathered in butter. Beside my plate, he sets a coffee down. From the counter, he then grabs the cream and sugar. He raises his eyebrows at me, his hand suspended in the air above my coffee.

"Two splashes of cream and a pinch of sugar, right?"

I stare at Kaleb and the coffee, my eyes watering.

Ryland didn't even know what I liked in my coffee. That should've been a sign. Coffee is a morning necessity. He should've known. I knew his.

Hazelnut flavouring with a dash of cinnamon and lots of oat milk.

The tears slide down my cheeks, and the warm smile fades from Kaleb's lips.

"Fuck." He sets the cream down and steps around the counter, helping me to the stool. "I didn't mean to upset you, Ella."

I rest my elbows on the counter, pressing my face into my palms. "Not your fault, Kaleb. It's all Ryland's fault. And Janae's. They require equal blame. That's how a cheating relationship works. They decided to fuck me over."

Kaleb squeezes my shoulder, then pushes my plate and coffee towards me. "Eat something. You'll feel better. You can also continue to talk about what happened if you want to. Hell, fucking rage about him. Those plates are shitty anyway. So is the floor. Smash the plate against the floor. Either way, I'm all ears."

I choke on a laugh. He's rambling, which drives me to pick up my fork and stuff my mouth with pancake. The sweetness of the maple syrup teases my tongue, clashing with the sadness that's penetrating my heart again. It's like a lingering headache, one that even the strongest of painkillers can't cure. Remnants of determination are lingering, too, but Kaleb, knowing my coffee preferences, pushed me over the edge.

We eat in silence for several minutes. Well, Kaleb does. I push my food around my plate, taking small bites. By the time he's finished, half my plate isn't even gone yet. I watch as he rinses his dish, then collects his coffee. It's still steaming as he takes a sip.

He gives my plate a nudge. "Eat. It'll make you feel better."

I push the plate away. My appetite is gone. "I'm not hungry. Thanks for breakfast, though. I appreciate it."

He flashes me a weak smile. "What are you planning on doing?"

My gaze flitters to Kaleb's front door. It's a vomit-green and there are water stains in the ceiling above. Like most Vancouver areas, the humidity and constant moisture doesn't help apartments. Again, I can't wait until their renovations take place. They're replacing the ceiling in every apartment and making sure everything's up to code: plumbing, natural gas, etc. Unfortunately, the repairs do not include the replacement of doors.

"You need to replace your door," I murmur, sipping my coffee.

Kaleb glances over his shoulder with a smug smirk on his lips. "I think it adds character."

I snort. "Of course you do."

Only Kaleb Jones would think a vomit-coloured door adds character to an older style apartment with carpet at the front door and darker coloured walls. To a kitchen that's so outdated, some orangish-brown cupboard doors are hanging from their hinges, ready to fall upon impact. His countertops are the colour of sand, with darker flecks embedded. And the flooring is the same linoleum that was at our high school.

Overall, his apartment is shit.

Like mine once was. It took a lot of work and money to make it look good again. 

"Why did you choose here?" I ask.

Kaleb shrugs, but his gaze says something else. He knows I'm avoiding the subject. Although we've grown apart and are no longer romantically interested in each other, there are still quirks we can remember. "It's only for a month."

"Yeah, but why this place? There are much nicer apartments in Vancouver."

He rubs his jaw. "None were available. It's difficult to find apartments in Vancouver, Ella. Having Abbey pull some strings worked. I don't care where I'm staying, so long as I have a roof over my head and access to clean, running water." He gestures to the shitty door. "A shitty door doesn't bother me. Shitty neighbours who fuck over my best friend? That's what I hate."

I stare down at my coffee. The mug is chipped at the rim, resulting in a splash of white against navy blue. "How am I supposed to tell everyone? It makes me feel like a fool."

"You're not a fool." His voice is firm. "Ryland's the fool, Ella. A fool for thinking he can get away with gaslighting someone like you. It's not right, and he better watch his fucking mouth if he ever runs into me, Shea, or Brenna. Especially Mel."

"You talked to Melody?"

"This morning," he nods. "I'm sorry I told her, but this situation is a little abnormal. Having an ex-turned-good-friend stay overnight after she finds out her boyfriend has been fucking her best friend. I needed some advice."

That entire sentence is long and makes my head hurt. All I can do is nod. Me being here is weird. But not because Kaleb and I are uncomfortable. After we broke up, we fell back into being friends, and it's stayed that way. We've always been good at being friends. Plus, Melody is one of my best friends. Anyone who thinks I'd come in between them is a fool. Like Ryland.

"It's okay you told her," I reply. "Repeating the story... it's not something I want to do. Tell Brenna and Shea if you want to. I'll tell Abbey, since I'm her personal trainer. But I'd rather you relay outline. If Brenna wants to get into detail over ice cream and gin smashes, then I'm open for it."

Kaleb chuckles. "Maybe you and Shea should get together for ice cream."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, fuck off."

His mouth pinches to one side. "There's the Ella I remember." He pauses, staring at his coffee. "You're gonna get through this, Ella. It's difficult—the relationship between my parents crumbled after Mom caught Dad cheating. And things were bad for a while. But we heal no matter what. Even if you don't want to, a little piece mends itself every day. You'll cry and think the world is against you. You won't brush your teeth. You'll wreak havoc on your body by consuming dairy. But the next day, you'll get up. Shower. Put makeup on. And while these little steps feel insignificant, they accumulate into something significant."

A tear slides down my cheek. "I don't want to move out, Kaleb. That apartment is mine."

Kaleb turns around and collects my keys from beside my purse. He tosses them at me, and I catch them.

When I make eye contact with him, his gaze is hard and fiery. "Then kick him out. Make him wish he never fucked with you, Ella. And when that's over, don't let loneliness consume you. Remember who your friends are, and that we'll never leave you stranded."

I choke on a sob, but it's not one created from a broken heart or utter despair.

It's because I know he's right.

* * *

Taking a deep breath, I push through the door and into my apartment.

Ryland is sitting on one stool, holding an icepack to his nose. When he hears the door slam behind me, he turns around, away from the icepack. Remorse is nowhere to be seen. He deserved to suffer from Kaleb's wrath. His nose is black and purple, swollen. And the bruising extends to beneath his eyes, making him look like he hasn't slept in weeks.

He sets the icepack down and slides off of the stool. "Ella."

I raise my hand, turning down this conversation. No matter what Ryland has to say, he's not changing my mind. He's been sleeping with Janae for nine months. Had he told me sooner, the issue may have been solvable. Telling me would've meant he was willing to change. But that ship has sailed. He chose a different route. One that involved breaking my heart as opposed to keeping it safe.

After tossing my duffle bag on to the leather couch, I storm into my bedroom, then head straight for the closet. I flick the switch on, grab Ryland's suitcase, and start filling it with all his shit. Everything's a mess. Some articles of clothing end up in the suitcase. Others surround it. And I don't bother removing the hangers. He can take those, too. Why? Because I hate the ones he buys. They're wooden and clothes always slide off of them.

"Ella! What the hell are you doing?"

"Packing you up," I spit, turning on my heel. Ryland's bruised face is inches from mine. He doesn't look happy, and the more I glare at him, the more fidgety he becomes. "This is my apartment, Ryland. You can find somewhere else to live. As of right now, you're no longer needed to help pay bills. Take the Netflix account and everything else—I don't care. But I am not moving out when you're the one who ruined this relationship."

My stomach feels uneasy. I want to cry again. For the past two years, I've been in love with Ryland. I believed there was potential between us. Kids, marriage, a family. A house as opposed to an apartment. He was, as Danielle Bradbery would say, my human diary. Ryland knew everything about me and my body. I told him secrets and trusted him with my heart. That is a privilege. A romantic relationship isn't something you toy with. Unless you've discussed conditions, you treat it like something real.

He runs an aggressive hand through his curly locks. "I'm not moving out, Ella. We can fix this. We can work through it." He reaches out, trying to take my hand. "Please. Give me another chance."

"What?" I scoff, shoving him away. "Another chance to manipulate and gaslight me? No. Had you been honest with me, making amends may have been easier. But you weren't. Which is why it's time for you to leave. I don't care where you go or what you take, but this apartment is mine."

Now he's pissed. "Ella. You stayed overnight at Kaleb's."

Fear threatens to consume me. Ryland has never been violent, but nothing about today is normal. I stand firm, not letting my face give away any emotion. Instead, I roll my eyes. Here we go. He'll blow this piece of information out of context, claiming I was doing it every time Kaleb visited to justify him sleeping with Janae. Because he's that fucking insecure.

"Kaleb was kind enough to give somewhere to stay while I collected myself. Lots of people like to assume our friendship is a threat to Kaleb and Melody's relationship. It's not. Unlike you, we have a moral code."

He flinches as if he's been slapped. Then he opens his mouth.

I shake my head.

"Don't even. This is my decision. You made yours." Tossing his last piece of clothing into the suitcase, I gesture to the mess. "You have five hours. Five fucking hours, Ryland. When I get home from work, I expect you to be out of here. Don't take any of my belongings. And when you're gone, don't call me or text me. We're over. You made sure of that."

I exit the room before Ryland can speak another word. And after I've grabbed my duffel bag, I head for the bathroom to get ready for work.

As much as I want to cry, it needs to wait. I still have a job to attend to.

And a heart that's still beating.