Chapter 3: Packing Up the Past

3.

Morning.

After killing the alarm, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The sunlight sneaked around the blinds. I felt like I hadn’t slept at all.

Every time I shut my eyes, old arguments and Lillian’s final message—'Let’s break up'—replayed on a loop.

I’d been Googling: “How to get over a breakup fast?” All the top results were the same: cry, keep busy, read, reflect.

But I couldn’t cry. I just sat there, staring at my phone, waiting for the tears. Nothing happened. Maybe I was all dried up inside.

So I started packing.

This place was way too big for me—two bedrooms and a living room, but a pain to commute. I wandered from room to room, running into her hair ties, her mug in the sink.

If not for her, I never would’ve rented this much space. Now, it felt like a museum of someone else’s life.

Packing, I realized she barely left anything behind—and what was here was all stuff I bought. Target socks, faded tees, clearance bin finds. No jewelry, no cashmere. No wonder she could walk away so easy.

I stacked her things by the door, feeling more like a landlord than an ex.

I went to bed at four, the clock’s red digits glaring at me. I tossed and turned, listened to a podcast on sleep hygiene, scrolled through Twitter, Instagram, even work emails. It was all static.

Dawn crept in, and the alarm rang again.

I got up, saw my own haggard face in the mirror. Dark circles, stubble, hair a mess. The guy looking back at me looked like he’d lost a fight.

I showered, changed, did some push-ups just to feel alive. The endorphins barely helped, but at least I could stand up straight.

Grabbed my bag, braced myself for the subway crush—the smell of burnt coffee and too much cologne.

Then, someone knocked on the door. Not expecting anyone, I peeked through the peephole. All I saw was a flash of red hair in the hall.

I opened the door—and Aubrey bonked her head right into it. She cursed, then flashed me a nervous grin.

I froze. “Why you?”

Her eyes lit up, like she’d just found her hero. She shoved a pile of shopping bags at me—Tiffany’s, Chanel, Bloomingdale’s, and a paper bag stuffed with cash.

“Um, I’m here to apologize. Sorry, it was all my fault before. I was petty—please be generous and don’t hold it against me, okay?”

She sounded like she’d practiced in the car.

I stepped back, refusing to take the bags. “What’s this about?”

Aubrey pouted, shifting from foot to foot. “I just wanted to apologize, really.” She tried to push the gifts on me again.

I stared. “Did Lillian send you?”

She froze, then shook her head. “No, no, Lillian doesn’t know.”

Before she could say more, a man’s voice echoed from the stairwell: “I sent her. Sorry, Mr. Brooks.”

He appeared—tall, built, hoodie and sunglasses indoors, like someone used to hiding in plain sight. He took off the shades, offered his hand. “Hello, I’m Caleb James.”

His handshake was firm, practiced—the kind you get at board meetings, not apartment hallways.

“I’m Aubrey’s brother. I heard about their prank on you, so I brought her to apologize.”

It made sense, in a weird way. Lillian, Aubrey, Caleb—rich kids in the same circle, all tied up in this mess.

But what he said next floored me: “Also, Lillian and I are about to get engaged. I know you two dated, but it was just a misunderstanding. So I hope you won’t bother her anymore, okay?”

My stomach dropped. “Is this what Lillian wants?”

He smiled, totally in control. “Mr. Brooks, even though you’ve broken up, now that you know her real background...”

He pressed the gifts on me. “Just a few small gifts, as compensation.”

The bags were heavy, reeking of expensive cologne and regret.

I tried to hand them back. “You don’t need to apologize.”

He wouldn’t take them. “No, it was all Aubrey’s fault. She dragged Lillian into this. An apology is only right.”

He kept smiling, like nothing could rattle him. I felt like a bug under a microscope.

I nodded once, jaw tight, wishing I could disappear.

After they left, I just sat on the floor, surrounded by luxury I didn’t want. For the first time since the breakup, I felt truly humiliated.