After that, I became stricter. Fewer words. No warmth. No punctuation that could be misread as softness. Efficient. Almost cold.
It worked.
He noticed.
One night, he texted, It feels like you talk to me like I’m a utility company.
I laughed so suddenly I scared myself.
Yes.
Exactly.
That was the relationship now.
A reluctant service provider resolving a debt.
I did not answer that part. I wrote, Remaining amount due Friday.
He sent it the next morning.
There were still moments of weakness, but not in the direction he probably imagined. I never seriously considered taking him back. The temptation was not Marcus.
It was amnesia.
I wanted the whole year erased. I wanted to be the version of myself still worried about appetizers, still building a seating chart, still believing a forehead kiss meant tenderness. I wanted not to carry the story in my body.
That was what people misunderstood.
Sometimes you do not miss the person.
You miss not knowing.
The final payment date kept shifting. First he said Tuesday. Then Friday. Then the following week because one client payment had not cleared. He apologized excessively, which made me want to mail him a dictionary with the word consequences highlighted.
Eventually, he pinned down a Tuesday afternoon.
He said once it was done, maybe we could have one real conversation with everything finally on the table.
He used the word closure, which I have come to believe is emotional glitter. People throw it everywhere because it sounds meaningful and makes a mess.
I told him we would discuss next steps after the payment cleared.
There were no next steps.
Not really.
But by then, I knew better than to announce the ending before the money landed. Practicality is not romance, but it is a loyal friend once you finally let it drive.
The final transfer arrived on a Tuesday afternoon while I was at my desk pretending to care about a spreadsheet.
My phone buzzed.
I glanced down.
There it was.
The remaining amount.
Complete.
Ugly in origin, beautiful in effect.
