He nodded, once, then again, as if his body needed repetition to accept what his heart could not.
“I won’t fight you,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“But Lauren…”
I paused.
He reached into his jacket pocket with his good hand and pulled out a sealed envelope.
“I need to give you this before you hear it from someone else.”
A familiar coldness moved through me.
“What is it?”
“Nick’s attorney contacted me yesterday. They’re trying to shift blame. They requested copies of texts from that night.”
I stared at the envelope.
“And?”
Evan swallowed.
“There’s a group chat. It wasn’t just jokes.”
My fingers hovered over the envelope but did not take it.
He looked wrecked now.
“Nick made comments about you for months. Trevor too. I didn’t stop it. Sometimes I joined in. Not because I meant all of it, but because…”
“Because it made you feel bigger,” I finished.
He lowered his head.
I took the envelope.
Inside were printed screenshots. I read only the first few lines before my stomach tightened.
Nick: Bring office girl Friday. Maybe Evan finally upgrades.
Trevor: Lauren won’t care. She’s basically a houseplant with a laptop.
Evan: Don’t be mean. She’s reliable. Like a dishwasher.
The words blurred.
Reliable.
Like a dishwasher.
I placed the pages back in the envelope carefully, refusing to let my hands shake.
Evan whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I stood.
This time, apology was not a bridge. It was only a sign marking where the bridge had burned.
“I hope you become better than the man who wrote that,” I said.
Then I walked out.
Outside, rain had started again. I stood beneath the café awning, breathing through the pain, when my phone rang.
Ryan.
