You Were Better When I Was Gone Chapter 02
After Sophie left, I kept packing.
At the back of a drawer, I found an old tin box. Bits of eight years, all crammed inside.
A birthday card from Luke from sophomore year: “Happy birthday to Sarah. Hope you get braver.”
A bracelet Sophie had braided, red cord with a tiny bead. She’d called it our bestie bracelet. Wear it forever, never take it off.
Photos. The three of us. I was always on the edge, smiling the hardest.
I put the box on the highest shelf in my closet, just out of reach. Not taking it. Not throwing it away, either.
At eleven, Luke called again.
I didn’t pick up.
He sent six messages. I didn’t read them.
The seventh was a voice memo. My thumb slipped. It played out loud.
“Sarah, you’ve ignored my calls six times. Are you trying to pick a fight? If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Don’t give me the silent treatment.”
Silent treatment. I let out a dry laugh.
Me quietly packing my bags is silent treatment. What do you call eight years of you and Sophie making me the joke? Warm group therapy?
I turned off my phone and slept through the night.
The next day, my last full day, I went to the office to finalize everything.
My desk was already cleared. A Post-it note was stuck to my monitor, left by the colleague next to me: “Sarah, good luck.”
I peeled it off and tucked it in my pocket. Walked to HR and signed the papers.
In the lobby, I ran into Luke.
He stood by the entrance in a suit, hands in his pockets, his expression caught somewhere between concern and frustration.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Picking you up.”
“I don’t need a ride.”
He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Sarah, can you just talk to me like a normal person?”
“I am talking to you like a normal person.”
His brow tightened. His hand came up to ruffle my hair, the way he’d done for eight years.
I stepped back. His hand stopped midair.
“So you really are mad.” He dropped his arm. “I told you I’ll talk to your manager.”
“The deal’s dead,” I said.
“Then quitting? Isn’t that a little extreme?”
“No.”
He drew a breath, then switched to a softer tone. “Sarah.”
“Don’t call me Sarah.”
He froze. Eight years, and I’d never cut him off like that. He was used to my patience, my nodding, my quiet acceptance of whatever he said.
“Fine.” He took a step back. “Sarah, can we sit down somewhere and actually talk?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You leave tomorrow. You’ll be in London alone and you don’t know anyone there. You can’t even read a map.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
He gave me that look again like I was a stubborn child, naive, in need of managing.
“Sophie’s been crying all day,” he said suddenly. “She thinks she’s the reason you’re going.”
I paused for one second. “Good.”
His face shifted. “What’s that supposed to mean? She apologized and you still won’t accept it?”
I looked at him. He was always speaking for her.
I lost the deal, just make her drink less next time. I got humiliated, you’re too sensitive. I quit and left, you’re overreacting.
And now she cries, and his first move is to come running to clear her name.
“Luke.” I kept my voice even. “One question.”
“What?”
“If Sophie had been the one humiliated in front of that client, would you have said, ‘just make Sarah drink less next time’?”
His mouth opened. Nothing came out.
I walked past him, pushed the glass doors open, and the sunlight hit me hard.
Behind me, he took two steps. “Sarah, what time is your flight? I’ll take you.”
“No.”
“I’ll take you.” He said it again, firmer this time.
I didn’t look back. “Take Sophie.”
The moment I stepped outside, I let out a long breath. The air tasted different like something had already shifted.
For the first time in eight years, that stretch of sidewalk felt short. So short I didn’t know why it had taken me so long to walk it.
When I got home, a bouquet sat on the coffee table.
Sunflowers. My favorite.
A note in Sophie’s handwriting: “Sarah, I’m coming to see you off tomorrow. Don’t say no. Promise me you’ll always be my best friend.”
I dropped the flowers in the trash. Right next to the butterfly clip.