After They Gambled With My Life, I Went to the Scottish Highlands Chapter 2

I slipped my phone into my coat pocket, ignoring Ethan's question.

At the entryway, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a spare key.

Ethan had insisted on giving me this key six months ago. That day he'd leaned against the doorframe and told me with a smile that from now on, this wasn't just his apartment. It was our home. My books, cameras, and clothes could stay wherever I wanted, and I'd never have to pack up like a temporary guest every time I left.

That sentence had made me happy for a long time.

Now, I placed the key gently in the brass tray on the shoe cabinet. Metal met metal with a crisp clink.

Ethan's gaze fell on the key, and his expression finally changed. "What is this supposed to mean?"

I didn't look at him. Instead, I took out my phone again and opened the photography cloud drive we shared.

This account held most of the material I'd shot over the past few years. Ethan had said that couples shouldn't have secrets, and Sophie was always borrowing my photos for her travel scrapbooks, so I'd never put up any safeguards.

I went into device management and revoked access for Ethan's computer, phone, and the living room tablet. Then I changed the password, turned off automatic sharing, and opened the travel app to find Ethan and Sophie's names on the companion list.

Unlinked. Emergency contact deleted. Location sharing turned off.

One thing after another. I did it slowly and deliberately.

Ethan walked over just in time to see me logging out of the shared account. He slammed his hand down on my phone screen, the veins on the back of his hand standing out. "What were you screenshotting? Why did you leave the shared drive? You even deleted the travel link and the emergency contact?"

He stared me down, his voice sharp with offended anger. "We've known each other for years, and now, over a few tickets and a few photos, you're going to tally up every last thing between us? Are you planning to post those screenshots online and put us on public trial?"

I looked at his hand pressing down on the screen.

He didn't care at all about what I'd lost or what those negatives meant to me. His first thought was whether I would let anyone else find out what they'd done.

I pulled my phone out from under his hand. "I'm just cleaning up data I no longer need."

Sophie was crying even louder now. She walked over and reached for the hem of my coat. "Nora, you were never like this before. Do you think we owe you something? We were just joking around. Why do you have to take things this far?"

That sentence was like a thin needle, piercing exactly the place I least wanted touched.

I looked at Sophie's tear-reddened eyes and remembered the year we were sixteen, when my parents' marriage fell apart for good. My father moved out, my mother locked herself in the bedroom all day, and I had nothing but a few coins left. I couldn't even afford school lunch.

Sophie was the one who pressed her meal card into my hand and sat on the cafeteria steps, telling me, "Eat first. Don't worry about what the grownups are doing. You still have me."

I also remembered our second year of university, when I had my first panic attack in a crowded Tube station that triggered my asthma. Ethan carried me on his back and ran through the rain for several blocks before he could flag down a taxi. He stayed with me the entire night, holding my hand and saying, "Whenever you're scared, come find me. I won't leave you alone."

Because they had once been genuinely, wholeheartedly good to me, I forgave them again and again.

I always thought those pranks were just the mischievous side of their personalities. I always believed that if I was patient enough, we could keep going like this forever.

But the kindness of the past should never become a free pass for them to trample my boundaries.

I pulled up the handle of my suitcase. "You don't owe me anything. I just can't afford friendship and care like yours."

I stepped around them and pushed open the apartment door.

The cold early-winter wind of London rushed into the hallway, scattering the stifling heaviness that had filled the room.

In the taxi to the airport, I watched the red brick houses and rain-slicked streets recede through the window. My phone suddenly lit up with a new message from my advisor, Professor Reed.

"Nora, I just filed an appeal with the review committee on your behalf. They confirmed your original files were altered by someone else, but the review process is already complete. Your spot cannot be restored for now."

I gripped my phone tightly.

The next message came quickly.

"However, the Scottish Highland Photography Center had a temporary residency spot reserved for a partner institution. It's in Inverness, focused on photographing the winter lake district and Highland communities. Would you like to go? If so, I'll have them send over the invitation letter today."

I stared at those lines, and my eyes began to sting.

I replied, "Yes, Professor. I want to go."

Professor Reed wrote back quickly. "Having your work destroyed isn't the end. You're still here, your eyes are still here, and you can start again. Take care of yourself when you get there. Everything else, one step at a time."

I pressed my phone against my chest and took a deep breath.

The taxi pulled up outside the airport departure hall. After checking my luggage, I had just walked up to the security line when Ethan's call came through.

I stared at his name flashing on the screen, hesitated for a few seconds, then answered.

"Nora, you've cooled off long enough. Come back." His voice carried the familiar coaxing tone. "I've already booked the guesthouse in Bath. The three of us can go for a nice walk together. When we get there, I'll take lots of photos of you. Sophie promised she won't touch your computer again."

In the background, Sophie's voice chimed in, sugary and wheedling. "She just wants us to come get her. Ethan, ask her where she is. We'll go right now."

Ethan sighed and softened his voice even more. "Be good. Send me your location. I'll come pick you up."

I looked up at the flight information scrolling across the terminal's display screen.

"I don't want either of you to come get me."

"I just want to get far away from you both."

I hung up.

Over the speakers, a calm announcement followed: due to weather changes in the north, the flight to Inverness was expected to be delayed by two hours.