**
I should have set the phone back down.
Instead, I held it like evidence, like maybe staring at it long enough would somehow fix things.
Footsteps moved down the hallway. I stayed planted in the kitchen.
Cole walked in with damp hair, sweatpants, and a towel over his shoulder. He looked relaxed, completely comfortable, like nothing in the world was wrong.
He noticed the phone in my hand and frowned briefly but simply reached past me for a glass in the cupboard.
“Cole,” I said, watching him.
He didn’t respond. He filled the glass, took a drink, then glanced at me like I was standing in his way.
“Cole, what is this?” My voice cracked, and I hated that it did.
“My phone, Paige,” he sighed. “Sorry I left it on the counter.”
“I saw the message, Cole.”
He didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed the orange juice and poured some.
“Alyssa,” I said louder. “Your trainer.”
“Yeah, Paige,” he said, leaning against the counter. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“Tell me what, Cole?” I demanded.
He took another sip of orange juice like he was casually watching a game.
“That I’m with Alyssa now. She makes me happy! You’ve let yourself go, and that’s on you.”
“You’re with her?” I asked.
“Yes.”
That second yes hurt the most, because it meant he’d practiced this moment, and I was the last person to learn my own life had already been replaced.
And that was it.
No apology. No shame. Just the truth delivered like it was a minor inconvenience I was expected to deal with.
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