A long silence stretched between us.

"Phineas, is today the first day you've learned I'm afraid of thunder?"

I lifted my head and looked at him, lightning flickering across his face.

I was afraid of thunder. Phineas knew that.

Yet every stormy night these past few years, he hadn't been beside me.

The first thunderstorm, I'd called him. He said he was busy at the lab and hung up in a rush.

The second time, he said he was driving Lacey home.

The third time, he said he was helping Lacey look for her cat.

Bit by bit, I stopped expecting anything.

His eyes flickered, but he quickly slipped back into that detached look.

"I don't have that kind of free time——"

"It's not that you don't have time," I cut in. "You just don't want to."

"You really have to dig up old grudges?"

He tugged irritably at his collar, then pulled out his phone and held it up in front of me.

"Take a good look. You're not the only one who needs coaxing."

On the screen was a message, the contact saved as "Lacey."

【Phin, where'd you go? The thunder's so loud QAQ】

I looked at that message, and all at once it struck me as absurd.

Three years together, and the name he'd saved for me was always "Greta Fox."

No prefix. No pet name.

And I'd been foolish enough to think he just didn't bother with that kind of thing.

I lay down and pulled the blanket over my head. "Do whatever you want."

"Fine. You said it yourself."

He walked to the door, paused, his breathing heavy.

"Greta, what is it you actually want?"

I closed my eyes.

"Let me remind you of one thing. This isn't a cold war. We've broken up."

The door slammed shut.

The crash shook the whole room.

The next day, I dug out everything he'd given me over the years.

A crystal necklace, his gift for my eighteenth birthday, bought with allowance he'd saved up for half a year.

A hair clip, because I'd offhandedly said it was pretty, and he'd bought it the very next day.

……

I found a cardboard box, packed it all in, and carried it to his house.

The door wasn't fully shut. Laughter and chatter spilled out from inside.

I pushed it open and walked in. The living room was full of people.

Phineas sat on the couch, Lacey beside him.

"Oh, isn't this what's-her-name?" Someone recognized me, smiling with a knowing edge. "Phineas's——"

"Neighbor," Phineas said, taking up the word, his tone flat.

"Oh——a neighbor."

"Funny, I heard she's a doormat. The kind who's been groveling for years and never gotten anywhere."

"So Lacey's officially with Phineas now?"

Laughter burst out around the room.

Phineas glanced at me, then, in front of everyone, leaned down and kissed Lacey on the forehead.

Lacey blushed and pushed him away with a laugh.

The living room erupted in catcalls.

I drew a breath, carried the box past them, and stepped into the room that had once been mine.

I took everything out and started packing.

My phone buzzed.

A message from Phineas: 【You said it yourself. We've broken up.】

I didn't reply. I picked up the box and headed out.

In the living room, those people were still going at it.

"Seriously, Phineas, did you ever sleep with that doormat or not?"

"Why even ask? She's a neighbor, grew up with him, knows him inside out. A little fun's nothing strange."

"Shut it, you two. Can't you see Phineas has a real girlfriend now?"

Phineas still said nothing.

He leaned back on the couch, flicking a lighter over and over in his hand, his gaze fixed on the chat screen of his phone.

Until someone dropped a crude joke.

"But then again, was Lacey any good in bed? Some girls look so innocent, but who knows——"

Before the man could finish, Phineas grabbed the beer bottle off the table and hurled it straight at him.

"Say that again, you son of a bitch."

The living room erupted in an instant, several people tangled together, throwing punches.

I held the box and headed for the door, and the shattered glass sprayed out, slicing across my shin.

I went down on the floor, blood trickling down my ankle.

For a heartbeat, the room went silent.

Phineas rushed over, crouched in front of me, lifted his head to look at my face, his pupils trembling faintly.

In that moment, I saw the panic in his eyes.

But all I felt was tired.

So tired.

By the time we left the hospital, it was afternoon.

Three stitches in my shin, and I walked with a slight limp.

Phineas walked behind me, not saying a word the whole way.

I stopped at the hospital entrance to wait for a car, and he reached his hand over.

His pinky hooked around mine.

This was our signal, the one we'd had since we were kids.

It meant: I was wrong.

Every time he was wrong, this was how he asked for peace.

When we were little and fought, he'd hook my pinky, and I'd forgive him.

When we grew up and argued, he'd hook my pinky, and I'd soften.

Every single time, I softened.

But this time, just looking at those two fingers hooked together, I felt drained of all strength.

In all our years together, I'd never once had his protection out in the open.

He'd never acknowledged me in front of anyone.

Never held my hand walking past his classmates, never once said, "This is my girlfriend."

After Lacey showed up, he raised a cat for her, went out in the rain for her, gave me the silent treatment for her.

Wasn't I worth it?

I'd asked myself that countless times.

By the end of it, even I found it laughable.

I pulled my hand back.

He paused, then wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin pressed against my shoulder, his voice muffled.

"I'm sorry."

Those two words.

I'd waited five years, and finally, here they were.

So why was there no happiness in me at all?

I struggled a little, and his arms only tightened.

"Let's stop being angry at each other, okay?"

I froze in his arms for a second.

If this had been before, that line would have been enough to break me apart completely.

But this time, I just stood quietly until he was done holding me, then reached up and pushed him away.

One step, two steps, putting distance between us.

His eyes were a little red, his hair a mess, a bruise still darkening his chin from the fight.

A man this good-looking, wrecked like this, was still good-looking.

But I looked at his face and felt nothing inside, just an emptiness.

"I don't need you to say sorry anymore."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

I didn't answer. I turned and pulled open the door of the cab.

On the last day of the holiday, both families gathered again for a meal.

At the table, the mood was unusually warm.

Phineas raised his glass and took a long drink, his throat bobbing, then stood up.

"There's something I need to say."

"Greta and I, we've been together five years."

The air went still for a beat.

"She's pregnant. We're getting married."

Amelia's mouth fell open and stayed that way for a long while.

My mother turned to look at me, her eyes already rimmed red.

"Greta, is what he's saying true?"

I looked at Phineas.

He stood across from me, his eyes still red.

He was waiting for me to say yes.

Waiting for me to say I was willing.

Waiting for the "happy ending" he thought he'd get.

I stood up, my voice very calm.

"We've broken up."

Phineas's expression changed in an instant.

"And one more thing. The baby's already gone."