The Day I Threw Him Away

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Ever since Wesley and I got together, I became the textbook definition of the perfectly devoted girlfriend.

My best friend, Victoria, always used to scold me for it.

A woman needs her own ambition, Mallory. Whats the point of clinging to a man like a lapdog all day?

Wesley used to be a serial player. You think he hasn't seen women bend over backward for him before?

"You need to use your own magnetism to keep him hooked, otherwise, hes going to get lured away by someone else sooner or later."

I would just smile, nod, and carefully place the perfectly peeled shrimp into the bento box I was packing for Wesleys lunch.

Victoria would sigh, looking at me with absolute devastation. "You really have zero self-respect. What on earth makes that walking red flag good enough for you?"

Victoria had an incredible career and razor-sharp competence; she was the undeniable main character of her own life. Naturally, she harbored a deep-seated contempt for Wesley and his endless history of casual flings.

I, on the other hand, was painfully ordinary. It had taken me five grueling years to finally win Wesley over, and I counted my lucky stars every single day.

Then came my birthday. Wesley took a phone call, claimed there was an absolute emergency at the office, and rushed out the door so fast he left his apartment keys sitting on the coffee table.

I grabbed the keys and chased after him.

Only to stumble upon them in the dimly lit alley right below our apartment building.

Victoria had her arms hooked tightly around Wesleys neck. They were kissing, utterly lost in each other.

I stood frozen for a long moment. Then, in the silence, I quietly tossed the keys in my hand into the rusted trash can by the curb.

The keys hit the bottom of the empty metal bin with a dull, hollow "clack".

Under the sickly yellow glow of the streetlamp, the two embraced figures jolted apart and turned toward the sound.

The second Wesley saw me, he shoved Victoria away in a sheer panic. The blood drained from his face, leaving behind an unfiltered, raw terror that he couldn't mask.

"Mallory? What are you doing down here?"

The biting wind of early winter slashed through my clothes, sinking straight into my bones. My body began to violently tremble. It felt as if every inch of my skin had been instantaneously stripped of its warmth.

I rubbed my freezing hands together and managed to mumble, "Nothing. Just came down to grab something from the bodega."

My mind was a sprawling expanse of static. It was as if the cold had frozen my ability to process complex thought.

Victoria casually lifted a thumb to the corner of her mouth, wiping away the lipstick Wesley had smudged. A sharp, breathy laugh slipped past her lips. "Mallory, you're still as terrible a liar as ever. Look at you, stiff as a board. Its so unnatural."

"You were just keeping a tight leash on Wesley, right? Checking up on him. It's fine, it's just who you are."

I squeezed my numb fingers into fists, my nails digging into my palms. My lips parted, but not a single sound came out.

What was I supposed to say?

My best friend of over a decade was standing in an alley with the boyfriend I had chased for five years. She looked so poised, so brazenly unapologetic, that it almost made "me" feel like the one who had done something wrong.

Victoria playfully punched Wesleys arm, her tone teetering between teasing and scolding. "Wesley, you really don't know your own strength when you're going at it, do you? You completely ruined my makeup!"

Wesley frowned, swatting her hand away with aggressive discomfort.

"Enough, Victoria! Shut up."

Victoria suddenly giggled, the sound sharp and bright in the quiet alley. "Oh, Wesley, why are you in such a rush to push me away? Are you worried Mallory is going to care?"

She turned her gaze to me. "This is nothing. Mallory won't make a fuss over a little thing like this. Besides, now that she knows, it just means we don't have to hide it anymore, right?"

She looked at me, her smile easy, her voice carrying that familiar, effortless cadence she always used with me. "Mallory, I know exactly how much you love Wesley. You aren't going to hold this against us, are you?"

Back in high school, whenever I encountered a math problem I couldn't solve, I would take it to Victoria. She was so brilliant, so capable; it only ever took her a few sentences to point out the core of the issue.

And then, with that exact same effortless cadence, she would ask, "Mallory, this equation is simple. You won't mess it up again, will you?"

But right now, standing in the freezing cold, I couldn't bring myself to nod like I did when we were kids.

My facial muscles were so paralyzed I couldn't even force the corners of my mouth into a grateful smile.

Wesley stepped forward and grabbed my hands. He looked me up and down, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

"Mallory, even if you don't trust me, how could you run out here without a coat?"

"If you catch a chill, you're going to be up all night with a fever again."

He stripped off his heavy parka and draped it over my shoulders, meticulously zipping it up to my chin.

I had picked out that heavy winter coat for him myself. Premium goose down, designed to keep out the chill even in sub-zero temperatures.

Yet, standing at the mouth of that alley, enveloped in his coat, my hands continued to shake uncontrollably.

I took a deep, jagged breath and pulled my hands out of his grasp.

Then, I willed my stiff, frozen legs to move. And I ran.

Look at me. I really was this pathetic.

No matter how hard I tried, I could never handle a situation with the effortless grace Victoria possessed.

Aside from fleeing, my brain couldn't formulate a single method of survival.

I heard Wesley shout my name behind me, his footsteps starting to follow.

But I didn't want to see his face. Not even for a second.

I slammed the apartment door shut, locking Wesley and his desperate calls out in the hallway.

He stood on the other side of the wood, his voice muffled but frantic. "Mallory, you have to believe me. I promised you I wouldn't mess around with other women anymore, and I meant it!"

"Just open the door, baby. We can talk about this. Please!"

I sat alone in the dark living room, staring blankly at the birthday cake on the dining table.

My mind was a chaotic hive, buzzing so loudly I thought I might go deaf.

I didn't know how much time passed before the noise outside the door finally ceased. Wesley must have realized he didn't have his keys and eventually gave up on knocking.

The lavish feast I had spent hours cooking had gone entirely cold.

When he had told me he'd be free to celebrate my birthday with me, I had been over the moon. I had woken up at dawn to prep all his favorite dishes.

Like a ghost, I picked up my chopsticks, grabbed a piece of the spicy Cajun chicken I had made, and placed it in my mouth.

The moment the spices hit the back of my throat, a violent coughing fit seized me.

Right at that moment, someone knocked on the front door again.

A stranger's voice called out, "Delivery for this unit!"

I practically leaped to my feet and threw the door open.

Only to find myself face-to-face with Victorias beaming, unbothered smile.

"Hey, Mal! Wesley had an emergency and had to run back to the office, so I came over to celebrate your birthday with you!"

The delivery driver standing behind Victoria awkwardly shoved a paper bag into my hands.

He glanced at Victoria, then at me, and offered a polite smile. "Happy birthday, ma'am! You've got a really great friend here."

With that, he hurried off down the hall.

Victoria cheerfully draped an arm around my stiff shoulders. "Open it, Mal! Lets see if you like your gift."

I looked down. Inside the delivery bag was the exact bottle of designer perfume I had mentioned to her in passing a month ago.

Under normal circumstances, I would have smiled, told her I loved it, and kissed her on the cheek.

But right now, there wasn't a single drop of joy left in my barren heart.

I looked up, locking onto Victoria's face. Without thinking, the question slipped out. "Why are you doing this?"

Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she casually patted my shoulder.

Her tone was breezy, light as air. "You know me, Mal. My career is the focal point of my life. Sleeping with guys is just how I relieve the pressure."

"Youre always going on and on about how good Wesley is to you, how attentive he is. I guess I was just a little curious. Ive never actually tried a guy like him before."

"And I have to say, hes probably the best Ive ever had. Especially when we did it in his office. You can't even imagine how good it is for stress relief."

"Youve got decent taste, Mallory. I'll give you that."

My hand trembled. The paper bag slipped through my fingers.

"Crash."

The sharp, distinct sound of the glass perfume bottle shattering against the hardwood floor echoed in the quiet apartment.

I had always known Victoria and I viewed the world differently. She was incredibly open and transactional when it came to men. If she wanted someone, she got him.

But none of her relationships ever lasted, and she honestly couldn't care less.

To her, men fell into one of two categories: professional rivals, or objects for physical release.

I had always assumed Wesley fell into the first category for her.

They were both fiercely ambitious, undeniably arrogant people. It made sense that they naturally rubbed each other the wrong way.

But I had forgotten a crucial detail: because they were both so exceptional, they were the ones who truly understood each other.

Victoria bent down, glancing at the dripping paper bag with a sigh of pity.

"Youre always so clumsy. Its fine, Ill buy you another bottle tomorrow."

The faint, elegant floral scent of the ruined perfume filled the air, thick and cloying. A wave of nausea surged from my stomach to my throat.

I closed my eyes, my voice coming out like sandpaper.

"Don't bother. I don't want it."

Victoria narrowed her eyes just a fraction.

"Mallory, you arent actually going to throw a tantrum and ruin our friendship over a man, are you?"

"I let it slide when you act like his personal maid, trailing behind him and pouring his coffee, but if youre actually going to get mad at me over him, Im not going to tolerate it."

I shook my head slowly, offering her the only truth I had left.

"I don't know."

Everything had happened too fast. My painfully average brain was short-circuiting under the weight of it all.

Victoria used to tell me how much she despised men with heavy romantic baggage. She swore that if she ever settled down, it would be with a guy who had a clean slate, someone who only had eyes for her.

Because of that, she always treated Wesley with thinly veiled disdain. She never gave him the time of day when we hung out.

She called him a "walking red flag." He called her an "ice queen."

Even when we shared a dinner table, the two of them would trade subtle, barbed insults disguised as conversation.

I was always the peacekeeper, caught in the middle, smoothing things over and defending them to each other.

Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine they would end up in bed together.

Victoria let out a bright, radiant laugh, as if a massive weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"I knew it. Youre the best, Mal."

"You mentioned you wanted to marry him, that you were planning to take him back home to meet your parents. I promise I won't steal your husband."

"But you know how many women hes been with. His body is never going to be exclusively yours. Weve both just been so overwhelmed with work lately, we wanted the thrill of something new. Neither of us took it seriously."

Her mouth kept moving, forming words, but my eyes drifted to the Chanel handbag slung over her shoulder.

Hanging from the strap was a small, plush leather sheep charm with a little pink bow.

It looked utterly ridiculous against the sleek, elegant leather of the bag.

But the problem was, I had seen an almost identical sheep charmthis one with a blue bowtiestuffed inside Wesleys luggage.

It was blindingly obvious they were a matching set.

About a year ago, Wesley had returned from a business trip in Europe. I was unpacking his bags when the little plush toy fell out of a side pocket. Since he was never the type to buy cute trinkets, I had casually asked him about it.

Wesley had given a nonchalant shrug. "A client's kid was obsessed with them. I ended up getting roped into buying one."

His tone had been so fond yet exasperated, making it sound like an endearing inconvenience.

I hadn't thought twice about it. I believed him completely.

But seeing the pink one now, an entire year's worth of tiny, overlooked details suddenly slammed into place.

How Victoria, who supposedly hated Wesley, would always bring his favorite artisanal chili crisp when she came over.

How Wesley, when complaining about how annoying Victoria was, would perfectly omit the hazelnut syrup from the coffee order because he somehow knew she was violently allergic.

And how, when Victoria came with me to drop off lunch at his office, the receptionist had greeted both me "and" Victoria by name.

I had foolishly smiled at Wesley back then and said, "Wow, your front desk staff is amazing. They even remember Victoria."

Victoria had pinched my cheek, laughing. "Im your best friend, Mal. Of course they remember me."

And Wesley had smiled that easy smile of his, saying it was just standard protocol.

I had been so busy happily unpacking his lunch that I completely missed the dark, electric undercurrent passing between them.

Every single memory was a dull blade sawing against my ribs.

Staring into Victorias beautiful, clear eyes, I forced out every word with deliberate precision. "Leave. I don't want to celebrate my birthday."

Victorias perfectly arched brows drew together. She was visibly displeased.

"Mallory, you"

Before she could finish, her cell phone rang.

She glanced at the caller ID, and the irritation vanished from her face instantly. She answered it.

"Wesley, I thought you had a work emergency? Why are you calling me?"

"Well, perfect timing. Your girlfriend is throwing a tantrum. You need to talk her down."

A beat later, Victorias eyes slid over to me. Lazy. Triumphant.

She said, "Mal, Wesley wants to talk to you."

Before I could even agree or object, she put the phone on speaker.

His deep, magnetic voice filled the room.

"Mallory, look, I know you're upset, but its not what you think."

"A few weeks ago, Victoria was getting pressured to drink by some aggressive clients at a dinner. I couldn't just sit there and watch, so I stepped in. I took her home, and things just got a little blurred..."

Victoria rolled her eyes, letting out a soft scoff.

"Mallory, you know I deleted every other girl from my phone the day we started dating. But she's your best friend. I couldn't just abandon her."

A fiery, suffocating rage erupted in my chest. My breathing turned ragged.

Right. The love of my life slept with my best friend to "save" her.

What a noble, perfectly rational excuse.

Just last night, as we lay in bed, I had been describing my dream wedding to him.

He had held me so tenderly, whispering softly against my ear, "Whatever you want, baby. As long as I get to marry you, I don't care what the wedding looks like."

He had nuzzled his face into my neck, his hair tickling my skin until I laughed.

"I'm so lucky to have you," he had murmured. "I don't know who else in the world would ever treat me as well as you do."

His words had been so poetic, so deeply affectionate. They had made me laugh with pure, unadulterated happiness.

And now, their utter shamelessness was making me laugh all over again.

"Wesley, I threw your keys in the garbage. Don't bother coming back."

The nausea sitting heavy at the back of my throat threatened to spill over. I gripped my hands so tightly my nails broke the skin, using the physical pain to keep from throwing up.

Wesley let out a heavy sigh, his tone shifting into tired condescension.

"Can you just stop acting crazy for one second? Im about to walk into a meeting. Ill come home and deal with this tonight."

The call clicked off.

Victoria raised an eyebrow, a flash of genuine surprise in her eyes.

"Mallory, even if youre pissed, you don't need to take the joke that far, do you?"

"You accepted his parade of ex-girlfriends without a fight. Besides, I just told you Im not trying to take him from you. Just marry the guy and be happy."

"You literally brought him water when he was nursing his ex-girlfriend through a fever. Why are you suddenly drawing the line here? Aren't you afraid youre going to push him away?"

I lowered my eyes. It felt like someone had hollowed out my chest with a spoon.

She was right. When I was desperately trying to win Wesley over, she had witnessed every single pathetic, humiliating thing I did.

In her eyes, I was a woman who would gladly sacrifice every ounce of her dignity and temper just to keep Wesley happy.

And she wasn't wrong. I "was" that spineless.

I was so pathetic that even after catching them making out, I didn't even have the courage to scream.

Victoria unhurriedly pulled a slim cigarette from her purse.

The lighter "clicked". The tip glowed orange.

She took a long drag and blew a stream of smoke into the air between us.

"Mallory, I'm only warning you because you're my best friend. Wesley and I are incredibly sexually compatible."

"I won't actively try to steal him from you, but if you keep pushing him away like this, and he decides to jump ship? Don't blame me."

"You can take your time to think about it. Ill let myself out."

Through the haze of the cigarette smoke, Victorias expression suddenly looked foreign to me. Like a stranger's.

The heavy door shut with a definitive "thud", leaving me alone.

It wasn't until my phone buzzed with a text from Victoria that I realized I had been sitting in the dark, silent living room until late into the night.

She wrote: [Wesley knows you go to bed early, so he said he wouldn't bother coming back tonight since he's working late.]

[Since you already know, I figured I wouldn't hide it from you anymore.]

Following the text was a photo. It was Wesley, eyes closed in deep sleep, his damp hair resting against his forehead. Beneath him were the distinctive dark satin sheets of Victorias bed.

I noticed immediately that he wasn't wearing the dress shirt he had left the apartment in. He was wearing a familiar mens pajama top.

I had seen the matching womens set hanging in Victorias closet a hundred times.

In the photo, the collar of the pajamas was slightly unbuttoned, revealing fresh, dark red marks scattered across his collarbone.

Jarring and violently bright. They had clearly been made very recently.

Another message popped up:

[He was just too exhausted today. Hes crashing at my place. Don't worry, he's in good hands.]

The tight, agonizing string that had been holding my brain together abruptly snapped.

The phone screen went dark, reflecting my plain, unremarkable face.

I curled my freezing body into a tight ball, feeling as if every drop of strength had been siphoned from my veins. I couldn't even keep a steady grip on my phone.

Then, the screen lit up again.

It was my mom, checking in via text: [Hey honey, are you out celebrating with Victoria for your birthday?]

I was so incredibly thankful she hadn't called.

I wouldn't have known how to manipulate my voice to lie to her.

I forced my stiff, rigid fingers to move.

I typed back a completely fabricated response: [Yeah!]

I even attached a giant, grinning emoji.

The screen dimmed for a second before lighting up again. My mom was a fast typer.

[Youre twenty-eight today. When are you bringing Wesley back home to visit?]

I stared at the glowing words, entirely paralyzed.

I had previously told my mom that things with Wesley were incredibly stable. That I was going to bring him home for the holidays this year, and that we would probably start looking at rings soon.

Now, it was all a sick, twisted joke.

Sensing my hesitation, my mom quickly sent another message.

[You aren't getting any younger, sweetie. You aren't a big-shot executive like Victoria. You need to find a good man and settle down.]

[Mom knows best. Time isn't kind to women. You really need to lock down a timeline with him.]

I blinked, my eyes burning with unshed tears.

Growing up, my grades were perfectly average. My jobs were unremarkable.

The thing I heard most from my parents was: "Why can't you be a little more like Victoria?"

There were times I tried. I would study until my eyes bled, but I couldn't even come close to her class ranking.

I hated to admit it, but whenever I looked at Victoria, I was consumed by awe.

And underneath that awe, a deeply rooted, quiet inferiority.

The first time I met Wesley was right after I entered the corporate world. He was the liaison for a massive client account, and within three sentences, he had effortlessly resolved a project bottleneck that had been plaguing our team for weeks.

One look was all it took for me to realize he was cut from the exact same luminous cloth as Victoria.

He had that magnetic, untouchable gravity that made an insecure girl like me instantly drown.

To me, brilliant people like Wesley and Victoria were like the moon. I could look up at them, admire them from afar.

But I was just a tiny, insignificant moth, desperately fluttering my wings, trying to get a little closer to the light.

For a brief moment, the moons light had landed on me, and in my absolute delusion, I thought I could keep it forever.

I sniffled quietly, wiping my nose as I typed a few words back to my mom.

[Mom, Im so tired. Can I come home?]

If you can't catch the moon, you have to stop chasing it.

It was time to wake up.

[Of course. Ill be waiting for you, baby.]

I backed out of the chat and opened Wesleys.

His contact name was still "Mr. Pierce"the formal title I had saved him under years ago when I boldly asked for his number under the guise of work.

I took a deep breath, pressed the microphone button, and sent him a single voice memo.

"Wesley, it's over."