A Good Reason to Leave Chapter 2

Nick didn’t come back that night.

He was gone for days. He didn't answer my texts or calls. Soon, my messages were met with that single, damning red exclamation mark. He had blocked me. The silent treatment, his specialty. It had happened a few times before. Nick was a master of the cold war, and I always had to grovel and plead for days before he'd even look at me again.

This time, however, I was too busy with work handovers to have time to coddle him.

That evening, as I was booking my flight home, my phone rang. It was one of Nick's friends. The background was a cacophony of laughter and loud music that blared even through the phone.

"Nat, Nick's wasted. Can you come get him?"

Nick loved to party. He came from a wealthy family; the band was just a hobby. He didn't need the money. I once asked him why he didn't join the family business. He'd scoffed, saying his father's illegitimate children were already at each other's throats for a piece of the pie, and he had no interest in fighting over scraps. His grandfather's and mother's fortunes would all go to him eventually. He didn't need to work. He just wanted to do what he loved.

Nick had zero career ambition. It was one area where we had nothing in common. Whenever I told him about a project I'd landed or a promotion I'd gotten, he'd look bored. He once said disdainfully that it was pathetic to work yourself to death for a monthly salary that wasn't even enough to cover his bar tab for one night.

I knew we were fundamentally different people. Outside of physical chemistry, we had nothing to talk about. I didn't care about his soul; I just loved his body. He ignored my inner world, content with my compliance.

It was fine. It would make the breakup easier for both of us.

I agreed to go and hung up, looking out the window. The city at night seemed even more brilliant than during the day, a river of light from countless windows and cars, so bright it eclipsed the stars.

I glanced at my ticket. 8 a.m., the day after tomorrow.

I sighed. To be honest, I wasn’t ready to break up just yet. Nick and I were really good in bed, and the stress of changing jobs was getting to me. I was kind of hoping for one last "breakup fuck." It was a shame, but since the opportunity had presented itself, I had to take it.

...

When I got to the bar, Nick was surrounded by a flock of women. They were all different types, but they had one thing in common: they were all gorgeous and young, their faces glowing with collagen beneath their heavy makeup.

I couldn't blame them for flocking to him. Nick was rich, generous, and handsome. On him, even being a player seemed to be a charming trait. I touched my own face, remembering something he'd once said to me.

"You're 27. You should be getting facials, taking care of yourself. Can't you at least try?"

No wonder he thought I was old. He was surrounded by girls in their early twenties.

I said nothing, just stood at the edge of the crowd. Our eyes met. He looked right through me and then turned away.

Amber was flushed, her body pressed against his, her voice syrupy. "Nick, have another drink."

Nick smiled. Under the colored lights, his eyes were devastatingly beautiful, but completely devoid of warmth.

"Just drinking is boring. Why don't you feed it to me?"

"How?"

Nick didn't answer, just lowered his gaze to her lips.

A half-second later, understanding dawned in Amber's eyes. A look of thrilled surprise flashed across her face as she tilted her head back and downed the caramel-colored whiskey in her glass.

Then Nick grabbed her chin and kissed her, hard. It wasn't a gentle kiss; it was raw and angry, a release of emotion. Amber tilted her head back to meet him, her eyes watering from lack of air. Liquor trickled from the corner of their mouths, catching the light as a long, silvery strand of saliva connected them when they finally pulled apart.

The crowd erupted in cheers and catcalls.

I knew he was doing it on purpose. He was punishing me for giving him the cold shoulder the other day and for not immediately trying to make up with him.

It wasn't until I walked right up to him that the crowd noticed me and slowly fell silent.

Nick looked up, his expression blank. "What are you doing here?"

I stared at that face, a ghost of our intimate moments flashing through my mind. In the heat of passion, we had even whispered words of love.

Did it hurt? A little. But how much? Not enough to break me. I had always known this was who he was. A flirt, constantly seeking new thrills, incapable of saying no. Selfish, probably because he'd been spoiled his whole life, always putting himself first, never considering anyone else's feelings.

My voice trembled. "Nick, you've gone too far."

He looked up at me. He was sitting, and I was standing, but I felt like he was the one looking down on me. His expression was still blank, but a contemptuous smile played on his lips.

"Too far? You can always break up with me. No one's stopping you."

I said nothing, just stared at him. I had lost count of how many times he had threatened me with a breakup. Fifty? A hundred?

One of his friends, who probably thought he was going too far, whispered to him, "Nick, man, don't be like that. Look, Nat's about to cry."

And I was crying. Acting requires commitment. As a single tear fell, I saw his expression shift. The hand holding his cigarette twitched, but he still said nothing, just watched me with cold eyes.

In the next second, I said softly, "Fine, Nick."

"Let's break up."

His face instantly turned ugly. For a moment, I thought he was going to explode. But instead, he laughed, a cruel, tight sound that seemed to come through gritted teeth.

"Wow, Natalie. Bold move. Fine. But just so you know, I never go back for seconds. Don't come crying back to me like a pathetic dog."

"Okay," I nodded, wiping the tear from my eye.

Then I turned and walked away without a single glance back.

Nick didn’t come home that night. I spent the night deleting his contact information and everything related to him from my life. I packed my bags.

The next morning, I was on the earliest flight back to my hometown.

As the plane climbed above the clouds, I pulled out my SIM card and dropped it into the trash bag.