I was so hyped I barely slept.

Next morning, the doorbell rings—and guess who's grinning on my porch? Kallie.

"Congrats, Elsa. Can't believe you got picked by an international music org. Must be nice having that kind of luck."

Luck? Seriously?

I just stuck out my hand. "Give me the invite."

She kept smiling and shook her head. "Why should you get everything? I went to music school too, y'know. What makes you better? Here's a thought—give me your spot, and I'll say something nice about you to Michael."

I almost laughed.

Then it hit me—bitterness.

How sad is that? My own fiancé needed her to vouch for me.

I gave her a cold stare. "Do you even hear yourself? You're not qualified for something like this. Saying stuff like that just makes you look desperate."

I reached for the invite, but she clutched it, all hurt and dramatic.

"We worked together. Do you really have to embarrass me? It's just one invite—why are you being so greedy? If you're really that good, you don't need this to prove it, right?"

Unbelievable. The audacity.

I stepped in closer. "I don't have time for your drama. Hand it over."

Right then, Michael's car rolled up.

And like she was in some bad soap opera, Kallie shrieked and dropped to the ground.

"Kallie!"

Michael jumped out like she'd been shot, rushing over and fussing like she was made of glass. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"

"I'm okay," she said, still sitting there like some tragic movie extra. "I just wanted to drop off Elsa's invite and maybe ask for a shot at the opportunity. I get why she's upset..."

Boom—instantly made me look like the bad guy.

To anyone watching, it'd look like I'd lost it and shoved her.

Gotta give her credit—girl knew how to play dirty.

I kept it cool, pointing at the torn invite on the ground. "This was mine. You tried to steal it and ripped it. And now you wanna play victim?"

I thought I'd spelled it out.

But Michael's face twisted. "Over this? Elsa, seriously? You bullied Kallie over some dumb invite? You know she's not doing great health-wise. Say sorry. Now."

I stared at him, totally done. "Why should I?"

"There's no 'why'! You're clearly in the wrong. Apologizing's the least you can do."

That's what he went with.

I scoffed, shook my head, and walked back inside.

Michael looked like he was about to say more, but Kallie grabbed his arm. "It's fine. Elsa was out of line, but I'm not upset."

That fake sympathy of hers actually calmed him down. He shot me a nasty look, then turned to help her up.

I stood behind the door, watching through the peephole. Didn't move. Didn't speak.

If I'd been holding onto even a scrap of hope for him, it died right there.

Leaving him? Best call I ever made.

A few hours later, he texted:

[Don't take it so personally. I wasn't blaming you. But Kallie gave me blood, you know? Can't you cut her some slack? Try to be a little more understanding?]

I let out a cold laugh.

Seriously? That was his excuse?

After that, I didn't feel angry anymore.

No bitterness.

Just tired.

Guess I'd finally let him go.