I spent the whole night staring at the ceiling, rehearsing apologies that all sounded hollow no matter how many times I rearranged the words. The hospital took longer than expected—that's what I'll tell him. It was an emergency, a work obligation, something I couldn't control.
None of it changes the fact that I forgot he existed the moment Ethan hit the floor.
I drive to Marcus's apartment first thing in the morning, the streets empty and washed in pale gray light. My hands won't stop shaking on the steering wheel, trembling with guilt and dread that sits heavy in my stomach. I keep checking my phone at every red light like maybe he responded while I wasn't looking, like maybe there's a message that will tell me everything is okay.
There isn't, and nothing about this is going to be okay.
I park outside his building and sit there for five minutes, engine running, trying to figure out what I'm going to say. Every apology sounds like an excuse, every explanation sounds like a lie, and I can't keep hiding in my car forever. I force myself out and up the stairs, my legs heavy with reluctance.
I knock on his door while my heart pounds against my ribs. The seconds stretch into eternity before it swings open, revealing Marcus in sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt that looks like he slept in it—or didn't sleep at all, judging by the dark circles under his eyes.
His expression is blank—not angry, not sad, just empty in a way that terrifies me more than yelling ever could. "Marcus, I'm so sorry."
"Come in." Two words with no warmth behind them.
I follow him into the apartment, my stomach sinking with every step. The space looks different—every surface wiped down to gleaming perfection, throw pillows arranged with geometric precision. It's the kind of obsessive tidying that happens at 3 AM when someone can't sleep, when the only way to control the chaos in your head is to impose order on everything around you.
"I wanted to come, I really did," I start, words tumbling out. "I was going to be there, but there was an emergency at practice and I had to—"
"Emergency with Ethan." The way he says the name makes my blood run cold.
I stop mid-sentence, throat closing. "How did you know?"
"Chris texted me, thought I should know what my girlfriend was up to." He leans against the counter with his arms crossed, posture rigid with barely contained fury. "Said you rode in the ambulance with him, stayed at the hospital for hours, even held his hand during the X-rays."
"I didn't hold his hand—"
"Don't fucking lie to me." His voice cracks like a whip. "Not again, Harper."
"I'm telling the truth—I was just doing my job." I keep my voice steady even though my heart is racing. "I'm the team manager, it's my responsibility to handle medical emergencies."
"Your job?" He laughs, hollow and sharp. "Is your job to fuck him in empty bedrooms at parties too?"
The words hit me like a physical blow, and I take a step back. "What are you talking about?"
"Someone saw him climbing out that window." His voice rises, raw with anger. "The same window of the room where I was supposed to meet you. You think I'm stupid? You think I can't figure out what was happening?"
"Marcus, please—"
"Four hours at a hospital with your ex-boyfriend!" He's yelling now, face reddening, veins standing out in his neck. "Four hours while I sat at that restaurant like an idiot, checking my phone every thirty seconds, making excuses to the waiter!"
"I said I was sorry."
"Sorry doesn't cut it!" He slams his hand on the counter hard enough to make me jump. "I've given you everything—my time, my trust, my fucking heart. And you can't stop looking at him, stop thinking about him, stop running to him every chance you get!"
"That's not fair."
"Fair?" Another ugly laugh. "Every time a guy looks at you too long, I have to wonder. Remember the trainer at the gym? Your study partner you forgot to mention was a guy? And now your ex shows up and suddenly you're riding in ambulances, spending nights at hospitals, sneaking off at parties!"
Something inside me snaps. "You know what? Yeah, I was with him. At the party, in that room—I was with him."
Marcus's face goes white, the anger draining into devastation.
"And you want to know why?" I step closer, my own anger burning through. "Because at least he doesn't scream at me for talking to other human beings. At least he doesn't interrogate me every time I laugh at someone's joke, doesn't make me feel like I'm suffocating every single day!"
"Harper—"
"I'm done." The words taste like freedom and ash at the same time. "I'm done apologizing for existing, done shrinking myself to fit your insecurities, done feeling guilty for breathing the same air as other men."
"So you're choosing him?" His voice cracks. "After everything, you're choosing him?"
"I'm not choosing anyone!" I'm shouting now, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I don't want him and I don't want you. I don't want any of this—the jealousy, the accusations, the constant feeling that I'm never enough. I just want everyone to leave me alone!"
The silence that follows is deafening. Marcus stares at me with his chest heaving, looking like a stranger I never really knew.
"Get out," he whispers.
"Gladly." I grab my keys and walk to the door.
My hand is on the knob when his voice stops me, quiet and broken. "You're going to regret this. When he hurts you again—and he will—don't come crawling back to me."
I don't turn around. "I won't."
The door clicks shut behind me, and I make it to my car before I completely fall apart. I sit gripping the steering wheel, sobbing until my chest aches, until my eyes are swollen, until there's nothing left but hollow exhaustion.
I think about Marcus's face when I confirmed the party—the way his anger crumbled into betrayal, heartbreak, the death of whatever trust we had left. I think about Ethan and the way he looked at me in that hospital bed like I was the only person who mattered.
I don't want either of them. I don't want the suffocating jealousy or the complicated history, don't want to be someone's possession or someone's unfinished business. I just want to be alone—want silence and space and the freedom to exist without someone else's feelings wrapped around my throat.
I wipe my face with shaking hands, start the engine, and drive home alone.