Naomi was quiet for a beat on the other end, then she scoffed, muttering, “Fine. Bring them. But don’t go crawling back when you change your mind, Eli. You always do. You’ll see sense soon enough.”
After hanging up, I just sat there, staring at the phone, at the silence around me. The room felt hollow, emptied of the last shred of warmth I thought we had. Everything that made me stay with Naomi felt like dust slipping through my fingers.
Another message pinged. It was from my mom again, a small, hesitant question.
“I thought you said you both never moved into the apartment?”
.
Chapter 3
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When I told my mom I’d sell the apartment, she was quiet for a moment and then asked, “Then why have the water, electricity, and gas bills kept going all these years?”
I had no idea. So, I made it a point to go check things out myself.
When I got there and knocked, Ben opened the door, half-awake and dressed in some worn-out sleepwear. He looked surprised to see me, but not as much as I was. Inside, the place was filled with art supplies—sketchboards, easels, brushes, paints scattered everywhere. The smell of paint lingered in the air, mingling with the faint scent of coffee. And then it hit me like a truck. I remembered a magazine interview from two years back where Ben, a budding artist, was being celebrated in the local art scene. Naomi had shown me the video with so much pride, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him talking about his work.
I realized then. That backdrop, the place in his interview that seemed oddly familiar—it was the very apartment my mom had bought as a wedding gift for me and Naomi. She’d told me she wanted us to have something better, something safe and comfortable. Naomi had refused it, insisting on staying in our tiny, run-down place. Yet here Ben was, living in the place that was supposed to be ours.
As if that wasn’t enough, Ben looked me over with a lazy smirk. “Hey, didn’t Naomi tell you to bring soup for me? Where’s the soup?”
I clenched my fists, anger simmering, but I forced myself to keep steady. “Why are you living here?” I asked him.