Chapter 3: All the Pieces Left Behind

I sat on the sofa for what felt like hours, watching the afternoon sunlight crawl across the floor. The minutes slid past, thick and heavy.

Eventually, I forced myself to clean up the living room. The coffee table was a minefield: crumpled tissues, a toppled water glass, the TV remote wedged under the couch next to a half-eaten granola bar from our last movie night.

I fished the gift I’d brought back from London out of the trash. The wrapping paper was torn, but not ruined. I’d spent hours scouring Harrods, comparing brands, stumbling through awkward English with sales clerks. Derek hadn’t even looked at it before tossing it aside like a credit card offer.

All that effort—garbage now. My love, my time, all of it reduced to a mess on the floor.

After tidying up, I drifted to the bedroom and started packing. My movements were robotic. This was Derek’s place—his name on the lease, his furniture, his handpicked neighborhood.

But my fingerprints were everywhere: coffee mugs we’d chosen together, matching dinnerware, the "Bless This Mess" sign I’d bought as a joke—he’d actually liked it. The succulents I hadn’t killed, vanilla candles, a blanket we’d fought over during winter storms.

I packed a few clothes and left the rest. Everything else could be replaced. I was done holding onto things that didn’t want me.

At the door, Pudding streaked out—a yellow blur, faster than I’d ever seen her move for me. She sprawled in front of the door, tail flicking, eyes wide as saucers. For once, she didn’t flinch when I reached out—her purr rumbled against my palm, shaky but real.

When I first found her, she was scrawny and dirty, ribs poking through her fur. Now, her coat was glossy, her body filled out, the princess she was always meant to be.

I crouched, stroking her head. She pressed into my hand, purring for the first time in weeks. "I’m leaving. He’ll take care of you now," I whispered, voice cracking. Pudding would finally have her favorite person full-time.

I peeled her claws from my pant leg, her grip leaving tiny snags. Ignoring her plaintive meows, I stepped out with my suitcase. The sound of her crying faded as I moved down the hall, every step heavier than the last.