1
Atara
“You can do this!”
Tania’s voice is vibrating so hard through my phone that I have to pull it an inch away from my ear. I can practically see her jumping on her bed in excitement.
“Tania, I’m literally just going to his place so we can leave for the airport,” I say, laughing as I adjust my graduation cap. It’s still pinned to my head, and my teal silk dress feels like a second skin. It’s vibrant and expensive, and I wanted him to appreciate me in it, or out of it, before changing into a more comfortable traveling set.
“Uh-huh, sure,” she snorts. “Listen, you guys are the ultimate power couple. You’ve been together since freshman year, and the way Mark was looking at you during the ceremony today? Girl, he looked like he wanted to put a ring on it right there on the stage. Go get your rock!”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. “I am not ‘going to get my ring.’ We’re going on a celebratory trip to Ireland because we’re geniuses who just graduated top of our class. That’s it.”
“One hundred bucks says he confesses tonight,” Tania sings. “Enjoy yourself, genius. If I’m right, you owe me!”
“Bye, crazy,” I laugh and hang up.
I stand outside Mark’s door for a second, taking a deep breath.Okay, so maybe Tania isn’t totally insane. A ring feels like the logical next step, right?Mark is my proper-proper boyfriend. He doesn't miss a beat. He’s the guy who remembers anniversaries and always picks the right wine. Our relationship isn't some wild, soul-shattering bonfire, but it’s nice. It’s stable. He’s a good kisser, he takes me on actual dates, and the sex… well, the sex is okay. It’s fine. It’s consistent.Maybe a proposal will add some of that ‘oomph’ people always write about in books.
I’m not the type to get cold feet, so I shake off the nerves, put on my best ‘Atara Sunshine’ smile, and knock.
When the door opens, I don't even wait for him to speak. I lung forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. “We didit! Officially graduates!” I yap excitedly, pulling back to beam at him. “Are you packed? I’ve already checked the weather in Ireland like five times, and I think we need more sweaters, but honestly, who cares? We’ll be at a resort! We can just stay in bed and—”
I stop.
Mark isn't hugging me back. His arms are stiff at his sides, and his face looks like he’s staring at a particularly boring math equation. He feels… cold. Not ‘I’m tired from the ceremony’ cold, but ‘I’m disconnected’ cold.
“Mark? What’s wrong?” I ask, my smile faltering.
“Atara,” he says, and his voice is so clinical it makes the hair on my arms stand up. “I didn’t bother with the packing. We’re done.”
The air leaves my lungs in a sharp, painful rush.Wait, what?My heart doesn't just sink; it feels like it’s being crushed under a heavy, indifferent boot.
“W-what?”
The word feels small. Pathetic, really. I’m still standing here with my arms hovering in the air where his neck is supposed to be, feeling the absence of his expensive cologne, something I bought him for his birthday, clinging to my teal silk.
Mark takes a step back into his apartment, clearing the threshold as if he’s worried I might suddenly go mad. He looks at me, and for a second, I expect him to laugh. I expect him to say‘Gotcha! My bags are packed, and the Uber is downstairs.’
But Mark doesn’t do ‘gotchas.’ He’s not the type.
“We’ve had a good run, Atara. Five years is a significant investment of time,” he says, and he actually has the audacity to check his watch. “But we’re graduating. Life is moving into a different phase. I’ve accepted the position at Sterling & Hunt—which you know—and frankly, our trajectories are no longer aligned.”
I feel my jaw actually drop and not in that graceful, cinematic way in the movies, but in a ‘fly-could-land-in-my-mouth’ way. I reach up and realize my graduation cap is lopsided, the tassel tickling my nose. I yank it off, clutching it like a weapon.
“T-Trajectories?” I repeat like a dummy. “Mark, we’re supposed to be in Ireland in a matter of hours. I have three different types of sunscreen in my carry-on and a folder of 'must-see' pubs. What do you mean bytrajectories?”
Is this really not a joke?
“I mean, I don’t think you’ll fit into the corporate culture I’m entering,” he says calmly. He leans against the doorframe, looking perfectly polished in his navy suit. “You’re… vibrant, Atara. You’re brilliant, obviously. I wouldn’t have made it through Advanced Macroeconomics without your study guides.Or the internship. Or, arguably, the final interview prep you ran with me for three nights straight.”
He says it so casually. Like he’s thanking a tutor.
“You’re listing things I did for you,” I say, the heat starting to crawl up my neck. “You’re literally giving me a performance review of our relationship based on how much I helped your career. Is that…” I take a deep, steadying breath. It doesn’t work. “Is that what this was all about?”
“Yes, Atara. You were an incredible asset during my time at university. But now? I need someone who understands the optics of the chattered accounting world. Someone a bit more… experienced in the real world. My dad always said to leave things better than you found them, and I think we’re both leaving this relationship as better people. You have your honors; I have my career.”
I stare at him in shock. This is the man I thought was 'the one,' the 'stable' choice, the guy who always picked the right wine. I realize now he only picked the right wine because he’d researched the most impressive label for the price point.
