1: 1

Two in the morning, and I stood at the foot of Sybilla Henson's building, watching Ferris James hold her, his face buried in the curve of her neck.

"She's just too much. Every single day, on and on about nothing."

His voice was muffled. "I can barely breathe."

Sybilla stroked the back of his head. "But you promised we'd never be apart."

"That's why I came to you."

Ferris gave a bitter little laugh. "You're the only place I can catch my breath."

The keyring slipped out of my hand and hit the ground with a clink.

They turned at the same time.

The color drained from Ferris's face. "Fiona Dudley… listen to me, the sleepwalking came back, I don't even know how I ended up here…"

"You've had this sleepwalking for three years now."

I looked at him. "And every single time it drops you right at Sybilla's door?"

His lips trembled. Nothing came out.

Sybilla looked down. "Fee, we…"

"Don't let me stop you."

I turned to go. "I'll move out tomorrow. I'll leave the keys by the door."

Ferris chased after me and grabbed my wrist. "Let me explain!"

I looked back at him. "Ferris, we've been together three years, and you can't even be bothered to come up with a new lie."

He let go.

Only then did I see it clearly. From start to finish, he had never once meant to keep me.

1

Back home, I didn't turn on the lights.

The dark wrapped around everything. Me included.

The shirt I'd bought Ferris was still lying on the couch, the tag not even off yet.

The one he'd worn out today, I had ironed that too.

I walked over and picked up the new shirt. Soft fabric.

Then I dug out the scissors and cut it apart, one slice at a time, into scraps.

The sound of tearing cloth was very clear in the quiet of the night.

My phone kept buzzing in my bag.

I didn't have to look to know it was Ferris.

I didn't answer. I let it ring until it cut off on its own, then start up again.

I blocked his number.

The world finally went quiet.

I started packing.

This apartment, where we'd lived together for three years, was covered in traces of me. And of him.

His toothbrush, the matching set I'd bought.

Trash.

The record he loved, an out-of-print copy I'd combed the whole city to find.

Snapped in two.

On the wall, the photo from a trip we'd taken together, him grinning wide, his arm around my shoulders.

I took it down and dropped it, frame and all, into the garbage bag.

My hands moved numbly, but inside I was hollow and shaking.

Three years ago, Ferris "sleepwalked" for the first time.

He vanished in the middle of the night, his phone unreachable.

I was frantic, nearly called the police.

He came back near dawn, dazed, saying he'd woken up on a park bench.

He said he might have a sleepwalking disorder.

I believed him.

I took him to doctors, read through endless material, took care of him so carefully.

To keep him from wandering off during an "episode," I tied a red string around his wrist and looped the other end around mine.

But later, the red string was always undone after I'd fallen asleep.

His "sleepwalking" happened more and more, the places stranger and stranger.

Sometimes the office. Sometimes a friend's place.

Not until tonight did I realize there had only ever been one destination.

Sybilla.

His college crush. Our mutual friend.

How fitting.

I packed a small suitcase with just the necessities.

At dawn, I dragged it out of that apartment.

The keys went under the doormat.

I didn't look back.

A text came in from an unknown number.

"Fee, where are you? Let's talk. It's not what you think."

Ferris.

I sent back two words.

"Get lost."

Then I blocked that number too.

I checked into a hotel, and the first thing I did was pull the covers over my head and sleep.

The exhaustion in my body flattened the pain in my chest.

I woke to my best friend Sandra Fox's call.

"Fiona, are you insane? Pulling a disappearing act? Ferris has been blowing up my phone!"

My voice came out rough. "I broke up with him."

Silence on the other end for a few seconds.

"Send me the address."

Half an hour later, Sandra showed up at the hotel room.

She looked at my red eyes, asked nothing, and just pulled me into a hug.

"Cry. You'll feel better once you cry it out."

I didn't cry.

I'd run out of tears last night.

I told her everything, exactly as it happened.

Sandra was so angry she stamped her foot. "I knew Ferris was no good! And that Sybilla, and to think you called her a friend! What a pair of dogs!"

She cursed for a good while, then looked at me, aching for me. "So what are you going to do now?"

"Find a place. Start over."

"Move in with me. I've got a spare room."

I shook my head. "No, I want some quiet on my own."

Sandra didn't push. She only said, "Okay. Anything comes up, call me anytime."

She stayed with me all day and didn't leave until evening.

Then it was just me alone in the room again.

I opened my phone and, without knowing why, pulled up Ferris's social media feed.

He rarely posted. His last update was from six months ago.

But today, he'd put up something new.

"I lost my moon."

Underneath it, a picture of a pitch-black night sky.

The comments were lively.

All our mutual friends asking what was wrong.

Sybilla had commented too. "Don't be sad. The moon's always there."

I let out a cold laugh and closed the app.

Such a performance.

If I really were his moon, how could he have stood to let me gather dust.

2: 2

I rented a one-bedroom near the office.

Sandra came to help on moving day.

I didn't have much, so we had it all sorted out in a single afternoon.

Sandra looked around the freshly set-up little place and sighed. "This is nice. You're finally rid of that piece of trash."

I smiled and poured her a glass of water.

"Oh, right." Something occurred to Sandra. "That project proposal you put together for Ferris? He's been asking everyone about it."

That proposal had cost me several all-nighters.

I'd meant it as a surprise, a birthday gift for him.

"Let him look," I said. "He won't find it."

The draft, the digital file, all of it, I'd deleted clean.

I didn't want a single thread tying me to that man anymore.

My new life settled into a rhythm.

I threw all my energy into work.

Overtime, meetings, business trips.

I packed every hour full so there was no room left to think.

A month later, I got promoted.

The youngest department head we had.

At the celebration dinner, my coworkers came up one after another to toast me.

"Ms. Dudley, young and already going places!"

"Right, you'll have to show us the ropes from now on."

I smiled and answered each of them.

A few rounds in, someone suggested karaoke.

I begged off, said I wasn't feeling well, and left early.

Outside the restaurant, the night wind hit my face, a little cold.

I pulled my coat tighter and got ready to catch a cab home.

A car I knew was parked at the curb.

The window rolled down, and there was Ferris's worn-out face.

He'd gotten thinner, dark circles heavy under his eyes.

"Fee." His voice was hoarse.

I acted like I hadn't seen him and walked straight for the curb.

He got out at once, caught up in a few strides, and blocked my way.

"Let's talk."

"There's nothing to talk about." I stepped around him.

He moved in front of me again, his eyes going red. "Just five minutes, okay?"

A thick wave of alcohol hit me.

I frowned. "You've been drinking?"

"A little." He grabbed my wrist, gripping hard. "Fee, I was wrong. Come back, please?"

His hand was burning hot, hot enough to set me on edge.

"Ferris. Let go."

"I won't!" He stared at me, stubborn. "Come home with me. I'll cut Sybilla off completely. We can go back to how we were."

Back to how we were?

Like I'd just heard the biggest joke in the world.

"Ferris, did you forget? You're the one who told me, to my face, that being with me felt like suffocating."

His body went rigid.

"I was talking nonsense! At the time I was just... just under too much pressure!"

"So being under pressure means you get to go find another woman to breathe with?" I shook his hand off and stepped back. "When you were catching your breath with Sybilla, did you ever once think of me?"

His face went pale, his lips moving, but not one word came out.

"Don't come looking for me again." My voice was cold. "We're over."

I flagged down a cab and left without looking back.

In the rearview mirror, I saw Ferris still standing where I'd left him.

Like a statue somebody had thrown away.

There wasn't a shred of satisfaction in me, only an endless tiredness.

Back home, I took a shower, trying to wash off the smell of alcohol on me and every trace of him.

But lying in bed, the memories rose up anyway, past my control.

I remembered when we first got together, how he picked me up from work every day, rain or shine.

I remembered him clumsily learning to cook for me and turning the whole kitchen into a disaster.

I remembered him holding me, swearing he'd love me for the rest of his life.

All those sweet times had turned into knives lodged in my chest.

I thought I'd healed.

Turned out it was only a thin scab.

One light touch, and it still bled and bled.

The company took on a new project, partnering with Gilbert Group.

The lead was a man named Godfrey Gilbert, young and accomplished.

At the first meeting he wore a well-cut suit, steady and sharp.

Through the project discussion, his logic was clear, his takes were original, and I found myself really admiring him.

After the meeting ended, he was the one who reached out his hand.

"Ms. Dudley, looking forward to working with you."

"Mr. Gilbert, likewise." I shook his hand.

His palm was warm and dry, there and gone.

To make communication easier, we added each other on our phones.

Outside of work, we'd occasionally chat about other things too.

I found he was a genuinely interesting person, into photography, loved to travel, could even play guitar.

Talking with him was easy, and my nerves, wound tight for so long, seemed to ease a little.

One afternoon I was making coffee in the break room when Godfrey walked in too.

"Ms. Dudley likes pour-over as well?"

I nodded. "Keeps me awake."

"I just got in some Blue Mountain beans. Want to give them a try?"

"Sure."

I followed him to his office.

He ground the beans and brewed with practiced ease, and before long a cup of fragrant coffee was set in front of me.

"Try it."

I took a sip, the rich taste melting across my tongue.

"It's good."

"If you like it, I'll give you some."

"I couldn't."

"Consider it a thank-you, in advance, for all the work you'll put into this project." His smile was gentle.

I didn't refuse again.

3: 3

At the end of the day, Godfrey stopped me on the way out.

"Ms. Dudley, dinner together?"

It caught me off guard.

He explained, "A new Japanese place opened up nearby, good reviews. Not much fun going alone."

I thought about it, then said yes.

The restaurant was quiet and calm.

We talked while we ate, from work to life, and the mood was easy.

After dinner, Godfrey drove me home.

When we reached my building, he spoke up out of nowhere. "Fiona. Can I call you that?"

I froze for a second, then nodded.

"I can tell something's weighing on you," he said, looking at me. "If you don't mind, you can treat me like a place to let it out."

His eyes were sincere, without a trace of prying.

I was quiet for a moment, then shook my head anyway.

"It's all in the past."

"Good, then." He didn't press. "Get some rest."

Watching him drive off, something felt off inside me.

Godfrey's arrival was like a breath of spring, stirring ripples across the dead water of my heart.

But I didn't dare get too close.

I was afraid.

That weekend, Sandra asked me to go shopping.

We wandered into a menswear store, and she pulled me inside.

"Picking out something for your Mr. Gilbert?" She waggled her eyebrows.

"Don't be ridiculous, we're just coworkers."

"Coworkers who bring you breakfast every day and drive you home?" Sandra wore a look that said she wasn't buying a word of it.

I gave up. "It's just on the way."

"Right, right, on the way."

We were still talking when a familiar figure came into view.

Sybilla.

She had her arm looped through a middle-aged man's, close and intimate.

I knew the man. A well-known businessman in our circle, last name Lambert, already bald.

Sybilla saw me too. Her face changed, and she let go of the man's arm on reflex.

I pretended not to see and pulled Sandra toward the exit.

"Fee!" But Sybilla called out to me.

She hurried over, an awkward smile on her face.

"What a coincidence, you're shopping too."

"No coincidence," I said flatly. "I just don't want to see you."

Her face went pale, and she bit her lip.

"Fee, I know you're still angry with me. Ferris and I... there was really nothing between us."

"Whether there was or wasn't has nothing to do with me," I said, looking at her. "You don't need to explain anything to me."

"I..."

"Bella." Old Lambert walked over and slid an impatient arm around her waist. "Why waste your breath on her, we still have jewelry to look at."

Sybilla's expression grew even more strained.

I couldn't be bothered to watch the farce any longer and left, pulling Sandra with me.

Only once we were out of the mall did Sandra let out a world-shaking gasp.

"Holy crap! How did Sybilla end up with that old bachelor Lambert? Wasn't she with Ferris?"

I was baffled too.

"So where's Ferris?" Sandra asked.

Right. Where was Ferris?

The man who kept insisting he could only breathe when he was with Sybilla, where was he now?

Had Sybilla already found herself a new "ventilator" this fast?

The answer came soon enough.

A few days later, I unexpectedly ran into Ferris outside my office building.

He looked even more wrecked than last time, unshaven, the light in his eyes gone out completely.

He blocked my path, his voice badly hoarse.

"Fee, Sybilla... she's with someone else now."

I kept my face blank. "And?"

"She lied to me!" His eyes were rimmed red, like a child whose candy had been stolen. "She said she'd wait for me, she said she loved me!"

"Then you should go find her, not come to me."

"I did! She won't take my calls, she blocked me!" He grabbed my arm, his grip frighteningly strong. "She said I have no money, that I can't give her the life she wants!"

I wrenched my arm free.

"Ferris, this is between you and her. Don't come bothering me."

"Fee, I know I was wrong." He suddenly seized my hand and dropped down on one knee.

People passing by turned to stare at us.

I felt nothing but unbearable humiliation.

"Get up!"

"I won't get up until you forgive me!" He tilted his face up, his eyes full of pleading. "Let's start over, all right? This time I'll treat you right, I'll never let you suffer any wr—"

"Ferris!" I cut him off, my voice shaking with anger I couldn't hold down. "Do you really think we could ever go back?"

"We can! We definitely can!"

"You used 'sleepwalking' to lie to me for four years. While I was worried sick over you, you were catching your breath in another woman's arms. Now that woman doesn't want you, so you want to come crawling back to me?"

My words were like a knife, driven hard into his chest.

His face went ashen. He couldn't get out a single word.

"It's not me you miss. It's the trash can you could throw away whenever you liked, and pick back up whenever you wanted."