Sophie was having a rough patch and told me she needed space. I honestly didn’t get how you “pause” a relationship, but she insisted she needed time to figure things out and asked me not to bother her. I tried to respect that, though I wasn’t thrilled.
A few days later, I left her a voicemail, asking how she was and if she’d made up her mind about us, since she never gave me a straight answer. No reply. I assumed she was ghosting me.Then three days after that, I adopted a cat—always wanted one, but Sophie was allergic, so it never happened before.
A week later, Sophie showed up “to talk,” and the moment she saw the cat, she flipped out, calling me selfish. We ended up in a heated fight. The next morning, I saw my cat crouched under a neighbor’s car across the street, looking terrified.
I was certain Sophie had let her loose. But no—someone broke into my apartment. That’s when my cat escaped.
Feeling terrible for blaming Sophie, I organised a special date night for us. Just as I was about to leave, my doorbell rang; it was one of my neighbors, and she had a story to tell. Her name was Ruth, an older woman who lived two doors down.
She looked nervous, almost guilty for even knocking. She glanced over her shoulder as though someone might be watching her, then leaned in close when I opened the door. “I shouldn’t get involved,” she whispered, “but I saw something the other morning when your cat got out.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Ruth tightened her cardigan around herself. “I was sitting in my car, warming it up before heading to the pharmacy. I saw a man running out of your apartment.
At first I thought he was just a delivery guy in a hurry, but then I noticed he had something shiny in his hand. Looked like keys.”
My stomach dropped. “Keys?
Mine?”
She nodded. “And your cat—well, he actually opened your door wide on purpose so the cat could leave. I thought that was strange.
But that’s not all. I followed him.”
“You what?”
She gave a small shrug, as if embarrassed. “Nosy, I know.
But this neighborhood’s not safe, and I didn’t want trouble spilling over. So I drove after him. He cut across two blocks and met a woman by the old bakery.
They looked… friendly.”
I froze. “What woman?”
Ruth pressed her lips together like she was about to say something scandalous. “Your Sophie.
I’d seen her around with you before. She was standing there waiting. He handed her something—keys.
Looked like your set. Then they both walked off in different directions like they didn’t want to be seen together.”
My chest tightened. Keys.
My keys. Sophie had the spare set I’d given her months ago. If Ruth was right, Sophie hadn’t just shown up angry about my cat.
She’d orchestrated the whole thing. I thanked Ruth, though I barely remember how the words came out. My ears were ringing.
My mind was trying to protect me, whispering maybe Ruth was mistaken, maybe she was old and her eyes weren’t sharp. But deep down, I knew. Sophie always had a way of twisting situations until I doubted myself.
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