Leftovers

The moment I stepped out of the café, I didn't stop walking. I didn't let Trina see how deeply her words had cut me.

"He still calls your name in his sleep."

It was meant to slice through me. And God—it did.

When I got to my condo, I locked the door behind me and leaned against it. I took a deep breath, but it felt like no air entered my lungs. What's the point of breathing when your heart feels like it's no longer moving?

I walked to the mirror.

My makeup was still intact. Lipstick fierce. Clothes neat. I looked like I had won.

But inside?

I was wrecked.

"I thought I was done with this," I whispered. "I thought I wouldn't let myself fall apart again."

I dropped my bag and headed to the bathroom. I wiped off the lipstick he once said made me look like I owned every room. I smiled, but it was bitter.

It's cruel how easily things can be erased. All it took was her coming back.

It's always Trina.

What about me? I could've loved him better. Deeper. But how do you win when you're not even being played with?

8:47 PM

Knock. Knock.

I froze.

That rhythm—gentle taps, a pause, then a firmer knock. I didn't need to guess.

Troy.

My heart sprinted to the door before my brain could catch up.

Don't open it, Maxine. Don't you dare.

But I did. Just like always.

There he was.

Black hoodie, messy hair, tired eyes. He looked exactly like the version of him I always rushed to fix.

"Can I come in?" he asked softly.

"You always do," I whispered.

He sat on my couch like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't just been holding Trina's hand for the world to see, while I had to pretend I was invisible.

"Why are you here?" I asked, arms crossed.

He looked at me like the question confused him.

"I just wanted to see you."

"To check if I'm still available for emotional damage control?" I said bitterly. "I'm always the safe option, right?"

He flinched. "That's not fair."

"And what part of this setup is?"

I stepped closer and stood in front of him.

"She's back," I said plainly.

He nodded.

"She had you. Left you. And now you're back with her, like nothing happened."

"It's not that simple."

"It always isn't—when you're guilty."

He ran a hand through his hair as if the conversation frustrated him"Max, she's familiar."

"And I'm not?" My voice cracked. "I'm the one who stayed."

He stood slowly. "You are. But she's the chapter I never closed."

There it was.

Confirmation.

I was just the bookmark.

I turned away, pretending to fix the pillows just to hide how much I was trembling.

"Don't come here just to ease your guilt, Troy. If you want comfort, talk to her. Not me."

He moved behind me. I felt him before he touched me.

"I can't leave you," he whispered.

"But you never really stayed."

His breath touched my neck. Then his lips.

Soft. Searching. Too familiar.

I froze. "Troy…"

"Please," he murmured. "Just tonight."

I turned to face him. His hands rested on my waist. Mine landed on his chest.

"Just tonight?" I asked, searching his eyes for anything that looked like love.

But I found none.

"Just us," he said.

His lips crashed into mine, and every wall I built crumbled.

One kiss, and I was weak again.

He kissed me like he needed me to breathe. Like I was his escape from everything he didn't want to face.

Clothes fell to the floor. Each piece another lie I let go of. Another truth I ignored.

He kissed down my neck, shoulders, body—memorizing me like he always did.He lifted me and carried me to the bedroom.

And in that moment, lying under him, I knew—this wasn't love.

This was grief that was disguised as passion.

"Tell me you want this," he whispered.

"I always do," I answered, even as my heart begged me to stop.

He entered me slowly. Deeply. Painfully. Like he was trying to erase something else with every thrust.

Our bodies moved in sync.

But our hearts?

Completely out of rhythm.

He kissed me harder. Faster. Like he was drowning.I kissed him back.Because I was already underwater.

"Maxine…" he groaned into my ear.

I clung to him.

If this was all I'd ever have of him, I'd take it—even if it destroyed me.

My name left his lips like a question. I answered with my body.

Later, there was only silence.

His fingers traced patterns on my hip. I stared at the ceiling, hollow and aching.

"Do you think we could've been real if I met you first?" he asked quietly.

"No," I said flatly.

"Why not?"

"Because even if I came first… you still would've chosen her."

He didn't deny it, and the silence hit harder than any answer.

4:17 AM

I woke up.

The side of the bed where he lay was empty. He left nothing. Only his shirt and the smell of him clinging to my sheets.

I sat up, blanket pulled to my chest, feeling bare in every sense.

I was always the warm body. Never the warm choice.

I walked to the mirror. Looked at myself.

"You said you're done begging to be chosen," I whispered.

"So why are you still here?"

One new message.

From: Trina

I hope last night was worth it. Because now, it's my turn.