A Good Reason to Leave Chapter 1

The year I turned twenty-seven, my family started pressuring me to get married.

I abruptly ended things with the boyfriend I’d been practically worshipping for three years and started going on blind dates back in my hometown.

My friend asked me, "You were so into Nick. Can you really just let him go?"

I scoffed. "I'm not an idiot. He’s the kind of guy who’s fun to mess around with, but marrying him? That would be a lifetime of misery."

Just then, an icy, familiar voice drifted from behind me.

"Oh? Is that the reason you dumped me?"

* * *

I was dragging my suitcase home when I nearly collided with a girl walking out of his apartment.

She wore an oversized black sweater that slid off one shoulder, revealing a delicate collarbone. It was the "no-pants" look, paired with a pair of sky-high YSL stilettos. I recognized her as the bassist from Nick’s band. Amber, I think her name was. A stunning girl in her early twenties.

I instinctively ducked back behind the hallway door, out of sight.

A moment later, Nick emerged behind her, clad only in a pair of low-slung jeans. He leaned languidly against the wall and lit a cigarette. His upper body was bare, and water was still dripping down the chiseled lines of his abs.

He casually tossed a Chanel handbag in her direction.

"Take it."

Amber’s eyes lit up. She spun around and threw herself at him with a squeal. "Oh my god, I've wanted this bag forever! Where did you get it?"

"Picked it up in Hong Kong a while back."

"I love it so much! Thank you, baby!"

She tried to linger, but Nick was already growing impatient, a slight frown creasing his brow.

"Alright, that's enough. Get going."

The girl slid off him, her tone a mix of pouty and playful. "So cruel. One minute you’re calling me 'baby,' the next you’re kicking me out."

She wasn’t truly angry, though. She slung the bag over her shoulder with a delighted grin and blew him a kiss. "See you tomorrow!"

After she left, I stepped out from behind the door.

Nick clearly wasn't expecting me. He froze for a second before his expression relaxed into its usual nonchalance. "Didn't know you were coming back. Why didn't you call?"

I just looked at him for a moment. "It was late. I didn't want to wake you."

The faint, reddish marks on his neck were still fresh, but he showed no trace of guilt. He simply wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me inside.

"I'm starving. Make something to eat," he said, flopping onto the couch and turning on the TV, as if nothing had happened.

When I didn't move, he frowned. "What's wrong?" Then, as if realizing, a lazy smile spread across his face. "Miss me?"

He got up and wrapped his arms around me from behind. His warm breath ghosted across my neck as his hands snaked under the hem of my shirt. "Then I'll eat you first, and we can eat later—"

Years of playing the guitar had left his fingertips calloused and rough. They scraped against my skin, a familiar mix of pleasure and pain.

I closed my eyes and, with a weary sigh, gently pushed him away.

I did like Nick's body. In fact, his good looks were the main reason I’d pursued him in the first place. But maybe it was the long flight, or maybe it was the woman from moments ago, but right now, all I felt was a bone-deep weariness. I wasn't in the mood.

Nick wasn't used to being rejected by me. His expression darkened. "What's wrong?"

My eyes fell to a black heap on the carpet.

It was a pair of pantyhose, shredded beyond recognition.

Nick followed my gaze. He let out a soft "tsk," his face hardening. The air in the living room grew thick with unspoken tension. He pulled a cigarette from its pack and lit it. The pop of the mint-flavored capsule was a sharp crack in the silence.

"Her lease was up. She had nowhere to go, so I let her crash here for a night," he said, the excuse sounding lame even to his own ears. "Nothing happened."

I looked at him, our eyes meeting through the veil of white smoke. We couldn't read each other's expressions, but we both knew he was lying.

This wasn't the first time Nick had cheated. He was a natural-born player. He'd been that way when I first met him. My best friend had dragged me to see a popular rock band, raving about how insanely hot the lead singer was. I wasn't interested in rock music and had been bored out of my mind.

Until Nick walked on stage.

He stood with his head bowed, fingers dancing over his guitar. His dark hair was unstyled, loose strands falling across his forehead, occasionally revealing a hint of his eyelids. He was the most plainly dressed person on stage—just a black t-shirt and jeans—but he was instantly the center of attention. That face was a luxury item all on its own.

When he looked up, the stage lights caught in his amber eyes, a faint, teasing smile playing on his lips. It was my first rock show, and while my friend and the other girls screamed themselves hoarse, I was completely silent.

His gaze swept over the roaring crowd, and for a fleeting second, our eyes met. Then he looked away.

The music was probably great that night, but I didn't hear a single note. In that moment, the world went quiet, and the only sound was the thunder of my own heart.

After the show, a swarm of girls rushed backstage for his number. I was one of them. Single for all twenty-three years of my life, it was probably the bravest thing I'd ever done.

Nick didn't turn anyone down. Every girl who asked for his contact info got to scan his QR code, including me.

A year later, all the other girls had given up. I was the only one still trying. I don't know if it was out of pity, or because he was moved, or something else entirely, but Nick finally accepted our "relationship." I became his girlfriend, and that's how it had been until now.

But I knew, even after all these years, that he had never really loved me. Or maybe he did—he loved how agreeable I was, how I never made a fuss, how I never held his indiscretions against him. I'd caught him cheating multiple times, but as long as he gave me a half-decent excuse, I would forgive him. He'd told me many times that I wasn't his type, that he was only with me because I was good to him. He'd even joked that he'd dump me the second he found his "true love."

Our relationship had survived this long only because of my willingness to bend, to compromise, to swallow my pride.

"You promised me you wouldn't cheat again," I said softly, my eyes fixed on the tattered designer pantyhose on the floor.

A flicker of mockery crossed his face. He made no effort to placate me.

"You actually believed that crap?" He leaned in, blowing a cloud of mint-scented smoke in my face, his eyes full of a familiar cruelty. "Can't handle it?"

"Can't handle it? Then leave."

He'd said those words to me countless times before. Each time, it ended with me clinging to him, begging him not to go. Over time, he’d learned exactly how to control me. He knew that when he said those words, I was powerless.

I turned away. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

Nick grabbed my wrist. His brow was prominent, giving him an intimidating look when his face was blank. "Natalie, don't push it."

I pulled my hand free and went into the bedroom.

Not long after, the front door slammed shut with a deafening crash.

Nick was gone. He was angry. I knew it. In our dynamic, I was always the one placating him, fawning over him. I had never given him the cold shoulder like this before.

I rolled over and opened my phone.

In the family group chat, my mom had tagged me in a message.

"I've never rushed you before, but you're 27 now. It's time to start thinking about marriage. Your mother's colleague has a son who's a great catch, and he's handsome too. Why don't you come home for the holidays and meet him?"

Then I opened a message from my boss.

"Natalie, the new branch is short-staffed right now. With your talent, staying on as an assistant department head is a waste. Are you interested in a manager position at the new branch? It'll be tough getting things off the ground, but it's a great opportunity."

My mom wanted me to come home for blind dates.

The company had just opened a new branch in my hometown.

The timing, the place, the people—it all seemed to align. There was no reason for me to stay here anymore.

I sighed. The truth was, I really did like Nick. He was handsome, great in bed, and we were incredibly compatible physically. Most importantly, he was a total player. Being with him was easy because I never had to think about responsibility or a future.

When I first started working, I was constantly stressed out. I needed a release, but I was picky—a die-hard sucker for a pretty face, even though I was just average-looking myself. I couldn't find anyone who met my standards until I found Nick. He spent his prime years with me, and his body was a great stress reliever while I was building my career. And even though he was promiscuous, he was surprisingly careful. I’d heard before we got together that he required a clean health check from any woman he was with. I was always careful, too, so I wasn't worried.

Finding another man that perfect for my needs would be difficult.

But it couldn't be helped. Dating was one thing; settling down and getting married was another.

I really liked Nick.

But I also knew, with absolute certainty, that he was not the one.

Now, it was time to make a choice.