6:53 PM - DECEMBER
The fire popped once, sharp as a bone crack, then settled. Outside, the snow fell clean on a city that rarely slowed. A white layer on decades of grey and black.
I stared at my coffee. Black. Cooling fast.
Jessica had gone down to the lobby to collect presents from the concierge. Last-minute logistics. An excuse to step out. I wished I’d gone instead.
Instead, I was alone with her mother.
Karen sat across from me, legs crossed, one hand cupped around sparkling water. No alcohol. Never. She didn’t like the effects, she said.
She watched me like she was reading a market report. “You look tired.”
“Long month.”
“I imagine.” A pause. “Jessica said there were… complications at work.” She drew out the word like it tasted bad.
I nodded once. “Bonus got clipped.”
Karen’s mouth tightened. More amused than sympathetic. “Hmm. I suppose that’s how it goes in your world. One minute you’re indispensable, and the next… well.”
She let it hang. I didn’t fill in the blank.
Her voice softened. The steel underneath didn’t. “You know, Luke, when Jessica first told me about you, I thought, ‘Well, at least he has ambition.’ I could respect that. Not many men measure up to her. I knew that from the start. But I figured you were a phase. Like travel. Or philosophy.”
I didn’t react.
“She’s always been exceptional,” Karen continued, almost to herself. “Even as a little girl. Smart. Determined. I taught her that if you want something, you take it. Don’t wait for someone to hand it to you. And certainly don’t waste your life making excuses.”
I set my coffee on the side table. Leaned back. My pulse was climbing, but I kept my face still. Karen never missed an opportunity when we were alone.
She glanced at the door, then back at me. “You know what I never understood about you, Luke? You’re good on paper. Even despite where you’re from. Smart enough. Well-spoken. But there’s something missing.”
My jaw tightened. I kept quiet.
“I let it go for a while,” she continued. Calm. Methodical. “She wanted someone smart. Driven. But somewhere along the line, you started mistaking proximity for parity.”
My eyes narrowed before I could stop them. The corners of her mouth lifted.
“You lack something. Maybe maturity. Adults know themselves well enough to know when it’s time to move on.”
“Of course, it’s not your fault, honey.” The word landed like a slap. “Awareness like that is generally the result of good breeding. Hard to find these days.”
I remembered the one time I’d asked her to visit my parents in Texas. My folks kept hoping. Karen had smiled and said, “Oh honey, I’ll be honest. I find them a bit… simple. Rustic. Nice people, sure. But I’d rather not go all that way.”
Simple and rustic. A mortal sin, the way she’d said it.
Now Karen smiled thinly. “Jessica is accelerating. You’re idling. And Waypoint is demoting you, soft-footed as they’re trying to be. It’s not hard to read the signs, Luke.”
“You don’t know that. Everyone hits rough patches.”
“I know exactly what I’m talking about.” She folded her hands. “I’ve seen men like you my entire life. Good schools. Polite. But ultimately… no traction. Afraid to fail, but more afraid to let go.”
She leaned forward, voice dropping. “Jessica’s not like that. She’s not afraid to make hard choices. That’s why she’s succeeding while you’re… wherever you are now.”
“It’s not a competition,” I said. My tone stayed even. Barely.
“Of course it’s not.” She smiled again. “But Jessica’s outgrown you. I think you know it. You’re just too proud to admit it. She deserves someone who matches her, who doesn’t drag her down. She’s already moving past you. Partner at her practice. Expanding. And you? You’re not that person anymore. Maybe you never were.”
The words landed. I tried to swallow the anger building in my chest, but it lodged there like a stone.
“You think I’m dragging her down.” My voice came out hoarse.
“I know you are. You’re circling the drain, hoping no one notices. It’s all over your face. I don’t know how she doesn’t see it. Maybe it’s the early years, when you two were still happy.”
No malice in her delivery. Just precision.
“She’s not going to say it,” Karen went on. “Because she’s too kind. Too loyal. But I know. I’ve seen it for years. You’re obsolete. You two were good together for a time. But every relationship has an expiration date. You’re not special. And it’s not fair to keep her tethered to someone who’s drifting, living at the office, not even getting compensated for it anymore.”
My fists tightened. What could I say? Part of me agreed with her.
Karen leaned back. Satisfied. “It’s time to do something for her. Let her move on. Don’t make her choose between her future and your… lack of security.”
I held her gaze. “That’s not your call.”
She stood. Adjusted her cuff. “No. But someone had to say it.”
The door opened. Jessica came in balancing a stack of wrapped presents, cheeks flushed from the cold.
“Mom! I found them. They had to check a storage closet. Took longer than I thought.” Oblivious.
Karen turned and smiled, the sharpness vanishing like it had never been there. “Perfect, darling.” She moved to help arrange the gifts.
I didn’t move. I should have helped with the presents. Instead I stared out the window, trying to figure out if the blur was snow or something else.
Jessica glanced at me. “Everything okay?”
I forced a smile. “Yeah. Just catching up.”
“Oh.” She brightened. “Did she tell you about the new clinic? Mom’s been so helpful with the design.”
Karen shot me a glance. Victorious.
They started talking about accent colors and cabinet pulls.
I stayed upright. Kept my face still. Glanced at my watch like a boxer checking how many rounds were left.
The design talk gave me time to breathe. To lower my heart rate. To think.
Or try to think. I wasn’t thinking. I was unraveling. Quietly. Thoroughly. Wondering how long I’d been pretending not to see it.