Derek

Derek sat in his car, knuckles white against the steering wheel, staring at the windshield as the rain drummed against it. He could still see her last message glowing on his phone’s screen:

It’s over. There is nobody else. Goodbye.

It had taken him a full ten minutes to process those words, and when he finally had, the first thing he did was call her. Straight to voicemail. He called again. Nothing. By the third time, he knew. She had blocked him.

Blocked.

Like some random asshole she met at a bar. Like he was a fucking problem to be erased with the tap of a finger. Four years together, and she thought she could just cut him off like that? Four years! No warning, no conversation; just a text and silence.

His jaw clenched as he **** himself to breathe. She was lying. There was someone else. There had to be. Derek had had all night to think about it. Women didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to torch a perfectly good relationship for no reason. Not after everything they’d built together. Not after all the nights he had held her, listened to her vent about her job, told her how brilliant she was, how she was meant to be a teacher. He had supported her. He had loved her.

He had bought a fucking ring!

And now, suddenly, she was “pursuing something else in life”?

Bullshit.

His mind reeled, trying to piece together where things had gone wrong. Had she been pulling away for weeks? Months? He thought back to their last few dates. Had she been distant? He couldn't see it. Eliza had been the engaged in conversation. She'd been interested in his job, asked about his family, talked about their future. Whatever had been going on, Eliza had been hiding it extremely well.

His coworkers at NexaTech solutions were always bugging him about Eliza. Pussy-whipped had been how they’d characterized him. Derek, of course, always dismissed their jabs. They were a bunch of jealous software nerds, spent too many long nights on 4chan to know what they were talking about. Eliza and he enjoyed a mature, loving relationship, that was all. It was something they couldn't understand.

And Derek had leaned into it. He had been patient, like always. The good boyfriend. The kind of man women claimed they wanted. Screw those guys at work. If Derek had to pick between his coworkers and his girlfriend, he'd stick with his girlfriend any day of the week. It had left him feeling slightly isolated at the office, sure, but it was worth it when he came home and could spend time with the most beautiful girl in the world.

And what did that get him? A fucking text message.

Derek exhaled sharply, shoving a hand through his hair. He was convinced she had cheated. It was the only thing that made sense. The thought made his stomach churn, his grip on the wheel tightening until his fingertips ached. He had seen it happen before, seen friends get blindsided by girlfriends who found some exciting new guy, some asshole who made them feel like their life was bigger than it was. And Eliza must have fallen for it. Derek could hear the laughter of his coworkers when they found out that he was just another rube, that they had been right about him.

A moment of reason cut through the rage. Eliza wasn't a cheater! She was wonderful! An image of her smiling at him, the light catching her red hair just right, the love she felt shining through her eyes. She was kind. She was generous. She was loving.

And selfish.

Reason fled in the face of Derek's ire. She was selfish. He had ignored it for years, because he had loved her, because he had believed in her, because she made him want to be better. But the signs had always been there. The way she put her career first, the way she made it clear that she would never compromise that for him, for anyone. He had accepted it. Why would he try to keep her from her ambitions? He told himself that if he waited long enough, if he proved himself enough, she’d see his value, she’d see that building something together was the best of both worlds.

Instead, she wasted his time, then discarded him unceremoniously.

Four.

Fucking.

Years.

His phone buzzed on the dashboard, dragging him from his thoughts. Not Eliza. Just a work email. For a brief second, he considered driving to the school to make her look at him when she ripped his heart out. But no. She would just shut the door. Call the cops, maybe. That was the thing about women like Eliza—they knew how to play the victim. They knew how to make you look like the bad guy, even when they were the ones who left you bleeding.

Derek let out a slow breath, forcing his hands to relax. No, he wouldn’t go to her. He wouldn’t give her that satisfaction. But he wasn’t done, either. He would find out who this other guy was. And when he did, when he knew, then they’d have a real conversation.

Whether using words or fists was yet to be seen.