I shrugged.
“No hard feelings. It’s just business. But hey, maybe Emily’s family can take you in again like one of their own.”
And with that, I stood up, buttoned my jacket, and turned to leave just as Josh’s voice cracked behind me.
“Wait, Marcus, come on. You’re not serious.”
I didn’t look back as I walked toward the elevator. Didn’t need to.
I could hear the muffled voices behind me, the shocked murmurss, and the sharp whisper of Emily’s mom hissing something like, “You didn’t tell us he owned the place?”
The elevator dinged open, and I stepped in with the same quiet, deliberate calm I’d always used when fixing Josh’s messes.
Only this time, I wasn’t cleaning anything up.
I was letting it collapse.
The drive home was silent, just the low hum of the city rushing past my windows. I didn’t even turn on the radio.
My phone buzzed twice before I hit the freeway, both from Josh. The first was a missed call. The second was a text, “Dude, WTF, call me.”
I didn’t.
Instead, I pulled into my apartment garage, went upstairs, and sat in the dark for a while. No TV, no music, just silence.
I stared at the ceiling trying to make sense of how long I’d let this version of our relationship drag on. How many small moments I brushed off. How many times I’d told myself he’d grow out of it, that he was just immature, stressed, figuring things out.
It’s funny, people think betrayal is always loud, a big blow up, screaming, dramatic exits. But for me, it was a quiet erosion, a slow chipping away of respect.
And the worst part was I let it happen.
Josh didn’t try again that night.
But by morning, my phone lit up like a Christmas tree. Three missed calls from him. Two from Emily, one from my mom.
I ignored all of them.
By noon, I’d forwarded the official notice to their email CCG the property manager. No loopholes, no extensions. 30 days. I’d made sure of it.
At 2:47 p.m., my phone buzzed again. This time with a voicemail from my mother.
I listened.
“Marcus, honey, what is going on? Josh called us this morning absolutely devastated. You didn’t tell him you own the building. He says you blindsided him. Please call me back. This feels extreme.”
I rolled my eyes.
Of course, devastated, not apologetic, not grateful, just blindsided, like I had snuck up behind him and pushed him off a cliff he’d been dancing on for years.
I didn’t respond.
The next two days were more the same.
Josh tried alternating between pleading and raging.