“There’s no difference.”
That sentence was so honest it silenced both of us.
To Derek, there truly was no difference.
My refusal to support him felt identical to an attack because dependence had become his definition of normal.
I said, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For finally saying it clearly.”
I ended the call.
Pamela looked at me.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
And I was.
Not happy.
Not yet.
But clear.
There is a strange calm that arrives when a confusing relationship finally explains itself.
For years I had listened to promises, excuses, plans, and apologies.
I had analyzed Derek’s intentions because his behavior never quite matched his words.
Now the contradiction was gone.
He had told me exactly what he expected: I would provide, he would decide, and if I objected, I could leave.
So I left.
By early afternoon, security confirmed that Derek and Cassidy were packing.
Cassidy had apparently protested that she had nowhere suitable to take four suitcases.
Derek demanded to speak with someone “higher up.” Pamela handled every complaint the same way: calmly, with the file in front of her.
Eventually, the elevator opened and Cassidy appeared in the lobby surrounded by luggage.
I saw her through the glass wall of the leasing office.
Her sunglasses were back on.
Derek followed with several bags and the bottle of wine, now corked again and tucked awkwardly beneath his arm.
He spotted me.
For one second, neither of us moved.
Then he handed two bags to Cassidy and walked toward the office.
Pamela stood.
Derek stopped outside the open doorway.
“You’re really doing this?”
I looked at him.
The arrogance was gone.
So was the mocking smile.
But I knew better than to mistake panic for remorse.
“You told me to pack my bags.”
“I was angry.”
“You were confident.”
“I said something stupid.”
“You said something honest.”
His jaw tightened.
Cassidy stood behind him, silent now.
Derek lowered his voice.
“Where am I supposed to live?”
It was the same question from his text, only softer.
I thought about all the times I had solved his problems before he experienced their consequences.
Every overdue expense I covered.
Every plan I financed.
Every month I told myself helping him was temporary.
This was the first problem I allowed to remain his.
“I don’t know,” I said.
His face changed.
Not because the answer was cruel.
