It’s hard to pack my things when my eyes keep blurring with tears. I called Rachael halfway through my mess of packing and as soon as she picks up, I dissolve into a sniffling, sobbing mess.

“Come on,” she says. “You can do this. God, I wish I were there. You sure about this?”

“I walked in on him with that cheerleader,” I cry. “I can’t be with him. I don’t care who he is, I won’t be cheated on.” Moose nips at my feet and looks up at me with big, sad eyes. I scratch his ears, but he still stares at me.

“Good.” Rachael says. “Get your shit and get out of there. I never liked him anyway.”

I sob again and Rachael makes a cooing noise over the phone. “Come on,” she says gently.

It doesn’t take very long to pack my things. Most of my stuff is in storage, anyway. When I moved in to Elijah’s place, I left most of my things behind. It’s basically just clothes, toiletries, and a few books. Somehow, it still fills two suitcases and a box.

“Oh!” I say as I open the front door. I run to the kitchen and grab my cast iron pan. “I’m not letting him have this,” I mumble to myself. My well-seasoned, heavy cast-iron pan might as well be made of gold. He wouldn’t know what to do with it. I put Moose into his dog carrier and take one last look at the big house that never felt like home. Then, I walk out.

I check in to a hotel near my office and stare at my suitcases. I can’t believe it’s over. I spent so much time convincing myself that Elijah was the one that now I feel completely empty. I feel numb.

Moose knows something’s wrong. He nuzzles into my armpit and doesn’t leave my side.

My phone rings and I see Rachael’s name pop up. I consider not answering, but the thought of hearing my best friend’s voice might be exactly what I need right now.

“Hey.”

“You all checked in?”

“Yeah.”

“Man, I wish I was there with you. I’d punch that bastard in the mouth.”

I chuckle bitterly. “I wish you were here too.”

“You want to talk about it?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. The pillow smells like detergent and it makes my noise sting. “What is there to talk about? I walked in on him making out with another woman. His hand was up her skirt! She was the one who sent him the picture when I was at his parents’ cabin. I knew something was going on, but like a fool, I ignored it. It’s different to see it with my own eyes.”

“And his brother was there, too?”

“Yep. He saw me crying like an idiot and run out of the stadium. It’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing, it’s normal,” Rach sighs. “Well, at least you don’t have to think twice about accepting the job in Boston.”

My heart squeezes. “That’s true. You think they still want me? I’ve been putting them off for two weeks now.”

“Victor asked me about you yesterday, Farrah,” Rachael laughs. “He still wants you here. Didn’t you schedule a meeting with him for tomorrow?”

“A phone call, yeah. I’m supposed to give him my final decision.” I shake my head. Heat flares through my chest and I sit up straight in bed. “Oh my God, Rachael, you don’t understand how mad I am right now. I wish he felt like I feel right now. Maybe then he’d think twice.”

“I know, Farrah.”

“I should just go and sleep with his brother for the sake of it. Hate-fuck him. Get it all out of my system.”

I can hear the grin in Rachael’s voice when she answers. “That’s not a terrible idea, but I can think of one or two downsides.”

“I’m not going to do it, but I just… ugh. I just want Elijah to feel as bad as I do right now.”

“It’ll get better. Just focus on you.”

I take a deep breath. “I wish I could hug you right now, Rach.”

“Me too. You’ll hug me soon when you move to Boston and finally accept your freaking dream job.”

A smile twitches on my lips—the first genuine smile I’ve had all day. I nod, even though Rachael can’t see it. “Yeah. True.”

When we hang up, I lay down on the bed and pinch the bridge of my nose. I never thought I’d be here. I never thought I’d be alone again. I thought I had a fairy tale ending in the making.

And now?

Now I’m sleeping in a starchy hotel bed, with no fiancé, no wedding, no husband, nothing.

I don’t know how it all went so wrong. I mean, I know how it went wrong, but how did I ignore all the signs? The phone calls, the late nights out, changing his passcode, messages from other women… it was all there. If I really think about it, I can probably pinpoint the time when he started cheating on me. It could have been about three months ago, after a big win, he went out with the team and after that night, the distance started.

And I kept clinging on like a fool.

I turn onto my side and take a deep breath. Mr. Moose is on the bed next to me. He must be having a dream about chasing a squirrel or something, because his little legs are moving fast. I smile, putting my palm on my dog’s stomach. At least he’s loyal to me.

Maybe I brought this on myself. Maybe it’s a curse. My mother was stuck with my alcoholic, abusive father, and now I only chase after assholes, too. It’s a cycle.

That’s not true. My college boyfriend, Max—he was good. But I was so desperate to get away from my family and to get my ticket away from my horrible past that I dumped him at the first sign of trouble. Sure, I got a big, fancy job and a big, fancy fiancé, but look at me now!

Alone. Heartbroken.

Where’s Max, I wonder? I sigh. I hope he’s happy. He deserved better than me.

This must be karma. This whole engagement is just me getting what I deserve: a broken heart and a failed engagement.

I sigh, and Rachael’s name pings on my phone.

Rachael: I can hear you tossing and turning all the way from Boston.

Farrah: You know me too well.

I wait a few seconds, and then I keep typing. I just keep thinking that maybe I’m getting what I deserve. Maybe I’m destined to turn out exactly like my mother: chained to some asshole and too afraid to leave.

Rachael: If you’d have stayed with Elijah, that might be true. But you’re not too afraid to leave. You left. You’re strong.

Farrah: I don’t understand why I put up with all that. I knew he was messing around on me. I just chose to ignore it. Why am I such an idiot with men?!

Three dots appear under Rachael’s name. I watch her type for a long time, as if she’s erasing something and re-writing it. Finally, her message comes through.

Rachael: You’re not an idiot. You’re just looking for something in men that they can’t provide.

My heart starts thumping. I can feel that there’s some truth in what she’s saying. I know that whatever she means, that’s what’s in the middle of all my problems with men and relationships. But on some level, I just don’t understand. What am I looking for that they can’t provide?

My phone pings again when I don’t answer.

Rachael: You want my advice?

Farrah: I don’t think so. But yes.

Rachael: haha

The three dots appear again, and my heart starts thumping. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear what she has to say. So far, Rachael has been right about everything. There might some real tough love coming my way in the next text message.

Rachael: My advice is to take the job in Boston. And I’m not just saying that because I want you to move closer to me. Be single. Be yourself. Fall in love with yourself. Forget about men, and stability, and comfort, and marriage, and just do you. You’ve spent the past ten years looking for this perfect relationship that you’re neglecting yourself and you’re ignoring signs of a bad relationship.

Tears stream down my face and I take a deep, shaking breath.

I know she’s right. I know that with Max, with Elijah, with every single boyfriend I’ve ever had, I’ve been looking for the type of perfect relationship that probably doesn’t even exist. I’ve ignored all the warning signs and ignored my insecurities. I’ve put too much pressure on my partners to pick up the slack for my own problems with commitment.

Rachael can sense my mood, and she text me again.

Rachael: Worst case, we can be old spinsters together. We can wear matching pantsuits and have boy-toys that are in their twenties to attend to our every need.

I snort, laughing and wiping my eyes. I send through a bunch of laughing emojis.

Farrah: That sounds better than being cheated on by my fiancé.

Rachael: Fuck him. Come to Boston. Live your life.

Farrah: You have a two-bedroom apartment, right? I’m not sleeping on a couch when I get there. I’m not that sad.

Rachael: You’ll be a senior financial manager for Angel Investments, honey. I’ll make sure Victor puts you up in a luxury hotel till you get back on your feet.

I grin, looking away from my phone. This is starting to feel like a good idea. It could be a fresh start. I take a deep breath and my phone pings.

Rachael: And look, check this out.

She sends a photo through. I wait for it to load, and then a smile spreads over my face. I start laughing.

It’s a screenshot of the Super Bowl score: 36-7 for the Patriots. Elijah’s team got creamed. As terrible as it is, it actually does make me feel a hell of a lot better.

I grin.

Farrah: At least today is getting better as it goes on.

Rachael: See you soon.

She sends a winky-face emoji and I smile again. Rachael’s right. I’ll go to Boston, and I’ll learn how to be on my own. It’s terrifying and exciting, and I already know it’s the right decision.