Chapter 4: Goodbye, or Something Like It

I told myself it was for the best. He’d be happier with her. Maybe I could finally find peace, too.

I immediately started planning my escape.

I made mental lists, mapped out routes, rehearsed what I’d say if anyone asked where I was going. My hands shook, but I kept going.

“What are you standing there for? Come eat.”

Carter still seemed angry, his face cold as he finished off a plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and a bowl of mac and cheese, waiting for me to eat with him.

The food smelled amazing, the kind of comfort meal you crave on a bad day. I hesitated, unsure if I was even welcome at the table.

If nothing else, Carter’s cooking was amazing.

He had a knack for making simple food taste like a feast. I’d always loved that about him, even if I never said it out loud.

Unable to resist, I swallowed and quietly moved closer.

I slid into the chair across from him, eyes on my plate. The silence was thick. But the food smelled too good—my stomach actually growled.

In the past, I would always make Carter pick out food for me and blow on my soup before I’d eat.

I’d played the part of the spoiled girlfriend, expecting him to cater to my every need. Now, I felt too guilty to ask for anything.

But now, I didn’t dare act spoiled anymore. I just quietly grabbed my fork and ate.

Each bite felt like a punishment. I chewed slowly, trying not to make any noise. The food was delicious, but it tasted like ashes in my mouth.

I even wished I could go back and smack my old self for being so reckless.

If I could do it all over again, maybe I’d be kinder, softer. Maybe I’d learn to listen instead of demanding.

As I ate, I felt the air get even heavier.

The silence pressed in on me, suffocating. I risked a glance at Carter, only to find him staring at his plate, jaw clenched.

Huh? Why did Carter look even angrier?

I couldn’t figure it out. I replayed every word, every gesture, searching for the moment I’d messed up.

I panicked for a second, then decided I should at least try to leave on a good note before I disappeared.

Desperation made me bold. I scooted my chair closer, reaching out to tap his arm.

So I scooted closer and poked his arm.

He barely reacted, but I kept going, determined to break the tension.

“The food you made tonight is awesome! Thanks for cooking.”

I tried to sound cheerful, hoping it would soften him. My voice wobbled, but I forced a smile.

He ignored me, so I poked him again.

I poked him again, lighter this time, like I was testing the waters.

“I shouldn’t have lied earlier. Don’t be mad, okay?”

I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. I hated how small my voice sounded.

Wow, how times have changed. He used to coax me; when was the last time I was this humble?

The thought stung, but I pushed it aside. This was my last chance to make things right.

The tension finally eased a little.

I saw his shoulders relax, just a bit. It was enough to give me hope.

Carter’s stern brows relaxed, and he glanced at me:

“Why are you being so well-behaved all of a sudden?”

His voice was suspicious, but not unkind. I shrugged, trying to play it cool.

“Tell me, what do you want to buy this time?”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting. I just stared at him, stunned.

What?!

I almost laughed. Was that really how he saw me? I bit my lip, fighting back tears.

So in his eyes, I’m already that materialistic?

The thought hurt more than I expected. Maybe I deserved it.

I thought, defeated: Forget about redeeming myself, I should just get out of here.

I pushed my plate away, appetite gone. My mind was already racing ahead, planning my escape.

Carter finally calmed down.

He let out a long breath, the anger draining from his face. For a moment, he looked almost peaceful.

In a better mood, he was much more easygoing.

He even managed a half-smile, the kind that used to make my heart skip a beat. I tried not to let it show.

Even when I said I just wanted to sleep under the covers tonight, he agreed.

He didn’t argue, just nodded and pulled the blanket up to my chin. It was a small kindness, but it meant the world to me.

The next morning, as usual, he gave me a good morning kiss and made breakfast.

The routine was comforting—almost enough to make me forget everything else. Just for a moment, I let myself enjoy it.

As soon as he left, I jumped out of bed and started planning my escape.

I moved quickly, adrenaline fueling every step. I grabbed my duffel bag, tossing in clothes and whatever cash I could find.

Even though I’ve been here for two years, I’ve never left Carter’s side and don’t know the area well.

The thought made me nervous. I’d always relied on Carter to get around. Now, I was on my own.

I had to call a friend I kind of trusted for help.

I scrolled through my contacts, fingers trembling. I settled on someone who’d always seemed friendly, hoping she’d have my back.

The phones here were ancient and expensive; Carter had saved up forever to buy me one.

I felt a pang of guilt as I stared at the phone. It was the nicest thing I owned—a reminder of all the ways Carter had tried to take care of me.

With my friend’s advice, I quickly picked a destination and started packing.

She rattled off a list of towns, and I picked one at random. I didn’t care where I ended up, as long as it was far away.

Actually, there wasn’t much to bring—just a few clothes and enough cash for a bus ticket.

I stuffed everything into my old duffel, double-checking the zipper. I didn’t want to leave anything behind. But I couldn’t take much, either.

The most valuable thing was the phone; if I sold it, I could get a decent amount.

I weighed the phone in my hand, debating whether to keep it. In the end, I decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

After thinking it over, I left it right there on the table, with a quick goodbye note on top.

I scribbled a quick message—just enough to say goodbye, not enough to explain. I hoped he’d understand.

And just like that, I said goodbye to the apartment I’d lived in for two years.

I paused at the door, taking one last look around. The place was messy, lived-in, full of memories I wasn’t ready to let go of. But I closed the door anyway.

Everything happened fast—it wasn’t even noon yet.

The sun was barely overhead, the streets still quiet. It felt surreal, like I was walking through someone else’s dream.

Outside the apartment was a rundown alley.

The bricks were chipped, graffiti scrawled across the walls. Trash cans lined the curb, the smell of old takeout lingering in the air.

Not wanting anyone to see me, I slipped out through the alley behind the building instead of taking the main street.

I kept my head down, moving quickly. Every sound made me jump, but I didn’t look back.

The alley twisted and turned, and to catch the earliest bus, I walked faster and faster.

My breath came in short bursts, my heart pounding in my ears. I could almost taste freedom.

Every door was shut tight; the alley was silent and empty.

It was eerie, how quiet everything was. Even the stray cats seemed to have disappeared.

Thinking I’d pulled off my escape, my steps grew lighter.

I let myself relax, just a little. Maybe, just maybe, I’d make it out.

I turned another corner.

The sunlight slanted across the pavement, casting long shadows. I rounded the bend, ready to break into a run.

Relaxed, I looked up—

And saw Carter, a cigarette burning between his fingers, tall and broad, leaning there like he owned the place.

My heart stopped. He looked impossibly calm, like he’d been waiting for me all along. The smoke curled around his head, making his features hard to read.

He looked up, smoke curling around his face, and gave me a cold look.

His eyes were unreadable, but I could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface. I froze, caught like a deer in headlights.

Who knows how long he’d been waiting.

I tried to calculate how long I’d been gone, but my mind was blank. He must’ve known. He always knew.

Before I could react—

A figure darted out from behind Carter:

“See, Carter? I told you! She really is trying to run off with your cash!”

Her voice was shrill, triumphant. I stared, stunned. Of course it was her—my so-called friend.

Looking closer, it was that friend I’d gotten along with pretty well.

My stomach twisted. I’d trusted her, confided in her. Now, she looked at me like I was the enemy.

Just this morning, I’d asked her about good places to live.

The betrayal stung. I opened my mouth to protest. But she cut me off.

My vision went dark. I opened my mouth to explain, “I’m not! I swear!”

My words tumbled out, desperate. I looked from her to Carter, searching for any sign of understanding.

My friend wouldn’t listen, just kept going:

“Carter, I warned you—Savannah’s just using her looks. She’s not really in it for you!”

She spat the words like poison. I flinched. Hugged my bag tighter.

“People like her just want your money!”

She looked at Carter, daring him to disagree. I wanted to scream.

With that, she tried to grab my bag.

I jerked away, clutching it to my chest. My heart raced, panic rising in my throat.

Even if I was running away, I really wasn’t taking any money!!

I wanted to shout it, to make them believe me. But my voice caught in my throat.

Feeling guilty, I hugged my bag to my chest. “I’m not taking your money. Do you have any proof?”

I tried to sound confident, but my hands were shaking. I could feel Carter’s eyes on me, weighing every word.

“Then open your bag and let us check!”

She crossed her arms, smug. I glared at her, refusing to back down.

Carter finally lost his patience: “Enough.”

His voice was sharp, final. The alley went dead silent.

My heart went cold. Did Carter not even want to hear my explanation anymore…

I braced myself for the worst, my mind racing with possibilities.

My friend looked smug: “Hear that? Open your bag and let us check.”

She stepped closer, but Carter cut her off.

“I meant you shut up.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. My friend’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Carter?”

She sounded hurt, but he didn’t budge.

Carter’s brows lowered, and he shot my friend a glare. “You can go now.”

His tone brooked no argument. She hesitated, then turned on her heel and stalked away.

My friend was furious: “Carter, I’m just trying to help you. Don’t be so ungrateful!”

She tossed the words over her shoulder, but he didn’t respond. I watched her disappear around the corner, relief and dread warring inside me.

She wanted to say more, but seeing the anger on Carter’s face, she left, embarrassed.

The alley was quiet again, just the two of us and the distant hum of traffic.

For a moment, only the two of us were left in the alley.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, unsure what to say. The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable.

My mind was still on being accused of stealing. I couldn’t wait to explain:

I blurted out, “Carter, I really wasn’t trying to take your money. You know me, right? If you don’t believe me, you can check—”

Before I could finish, he cut in coldly:

“Why are you running?”

His voice was flat, emotionless. I stared at him, stunned.

“…What?”

I barely recognized my own voice. The question caught me off guard, and I struggled to find an answer.

He didn’t even look at my bag, just forced me against the wall, his presence overwhelming, and asked again:

He stepped closer, boxing me in. I pressed my back against the wall, heart pounding.

“Why are you running?”

His eyes searched mine, looking for the truth I didn’t want to give.

“Already bored with me, sweetheart?”

There was a bitterness in his voice, a hurt I hadn’t expected. I swallowed hard, unable to meet his gaze.

Carter seemed angrier than ever.

His jaw was tight, his fists clenched at his sides. I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

He pulled me home, and as soon as we got inside, he pinned me against the door and kissed me.

The kiss was rough, desperate. I tried to push him away, but he was relentless. My breath hitched, fear and longing tangled together.

It probably didn’t even count as a kiss.

It was more like a battle—his lips bruising, his hands gripping too tight. I whimpered, struggling to break free.

He was rougher and more intense than ever, gripping my chin and biting down, furious.

The pain shocked me, tears springing to my eyes. I shoved him with all my strength, finally breaking free.

I couldn’t help but yelp in pain and shoved him away.

My hand flew to my mouth, and I glared at him through tears. He looked at me, breathing hard, anger still simmering.

He sneered, about to come at me again, but when he looked up, he saw the panic in my eyes.

He froze, the fight draining out of him. For a moment, he looked lost, unsure of what to do next.

Carter froze, his anger slowly fading.

His shoulders slumped, and he stepped back, finally giving me space. The silence was heavy. Full of everything we couldn’t say.

The words he wanted to say stuck in his throat, turning to ice, weighing heavy on his heart, unable to come out.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. I could see the struggle in his eyes—the urge to reach out, to apologize, to hold on.

After a long moment, Carter’s voice came out tight: “Don’t go, okay?”

His words were barely more than a whisper, raw and vulnerable. I hugged myself, trying to hold back tears.

If I don’t leave now, should I just wait for him to get revenge?

The question echoed in my mind, louder than ever. I didn’t know what to do, so I did the only thing I could.

Covering my mouth where he’d bitten me, I said firmly, “I’m leaving.”

My voice was steady, even as my hands shook. I couldn’t stay—not now, not after everything.

He nearly ground his teeth down: “Savannah, you were the one who came on to me first.”

His voice was harsh, but I could hear the hurt underneath. I looked away, unable to face him.

It’s over, the male lead is already bringing up old grudges!

I felt the panic rising, my chest tight. I dropped to my knees, desperate to make him understand.

On the verge of tears, I dropped to my knees: “It’s my fault! I know I was wrong, I shouldn’t have come on to you.”

Tears streamed down my face, hot and unchecked. I pressed my forehead to the floor, too ashamed to look up.

“I really regret it, Carter, please let me go, okay?”

My voice broke on the last word. I waited, breath held, for his response.

He looked at me in disbelief, his voice rough: “You…regret meeting me?”

He sounded wounded, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. I wanted to take it back, but it was too late.

After knowing him for two years, I knew Carter Hayes was stubborn to the core.

He never let go of anything, not easily. I braced myself for the fight I knew was coming.

But now, he was quiet for a long time, and finally asked: “Why? Did I do something to hurt you?”

His voice was soft, almost pleading. I couldn’t look at him, afraid of what I’d see in his eyes.

There was something sad in his eyes, but I didn’t dare think too much about it.

I forced myself to stay cold, to keep my distance. I couldn’t afford to get pulled back in.

Carter’s the male lead; he’s meant to be with the real heroine.

That was the truth I’d been running from. No matter how much it hurt, I had to let him go.

And I’m just a background character—I can’t keep making the same mistake.

I clenched my fists, determined to see this through. I owed it to both of us.

So I steeled myself and blurted out the first excuse I could find. “Because you’re too broke, Carter.”

The words tasted bitter, but I forced them out. I knew it would hurt him, but it was the only way to make him let go.

I didn’t dare look him in the eye, and rushed on:

“I’m young, I don’t want to stay in a tiny apartment with you. I want a better life, you get it?”

I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, my voice shaking. I hoped he couldn’t hear the lie underneath.

“And I like gentle guys, but you’re always so intense. We’re just not a good match!”

I listed every reason I could think of, piling them on like bricks in a wall. I needed him to believe it, even if I didn’t.

Broke, rough.

I let the words hang in the air, heavy and final. Every word, I stomped his pride into the ground.

I felt sick to my stomach, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t afford to be weak now.

But he still pressed on: “Then what about when you said you wanted to make this place feel like home, when you said you loved my cooking…”

His voice was soft, almost pleading. I clenched my fists, refusing to let myself waver.

My heart ached, and I couldn’t look at him. “I was lying. I’m so sick of that bland food.”

The words came out sharper than I intended. The silence that followed was deafening, stretching between us like a chasm.