After His Mistress Had Me Beaten, I Disappeared

I stood outside the medical library for a full minute before I went in. My hand was on the door handle. The glass was cold. Inside, I could see rows of tables under bright fluorescent lights. Students bent over laptops and textbooks. The hum of focused silence.

I needed help with my research methodology paper. The one that was going to tank my GPA if I didn't figure it out. I'd read the textbook three times. Watched online lectures. Stayed up until four in the morning taking notes. None of it stuck the way it needed to. The concepts felt like water running through my fingers.

Atticus would understand it in ten minutes. He always did.

I pushed the door open and walked in.

The library smelled like old paper and coffee. I scanned the room. Found him at a table near the back windows. His dark hair fell across his forehead the way it always did when he was concentrating. He wore the navy sweater I'd given him last Christmas. His laptop was open. Papers spread out in neat stacks.

Katalina Ford sat beside him.

She was perfect in the way that made you notice. Long dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. Designer clothes that looked effortless. Her hand rested on Atticus's arm while she leaned in to read something on his screen. She laughed softly at whatever he'd said. He smiled back.

I walked over anyway.

"Atticus?" My voice came out quieter than I wanted.

He glanced up. His expression didn't change. "Yeah?"

"Can I talk to you for a second? About the methodology paper?"

He looked back at his laptop. "I'm busy."

"I know. I just—" I shifted my weight. "I'm really struggling with the statistical analysis section. I thought maybe you could explain the regression models? Just for a few minutes?"

Katalina tilted her head. Her smile was sympathetic. The kind that made you feel smaller.

Atticus let out a breath. Loud enough that the students at the next table looked over. "Gracelyn. I don't have time to walk you through basic concepts you should've learned in undergrad."

My chest tightened. "I did learn them. I just need clarification on—"

"You need someone to do your work for you." He finally looked at me. His eyes were cold. "You're a grade-chaser who clings to smarter people. That's all you've ever been."

The words hit like a slap.

The library went quiet. Not the focused silence from before. A different kind. The kind where people were listening.

Katalina's hand moved to cover her mouth. Her eyes went wide with manufactured shock. "Atticus," she murmured. Soft. Gentle. Like she was scolding a child.

He shrugged. "It's true. She followed me to med school. She can't handle the workload. And now she wants me to carry her through."

I stood there. My paper was still clutched in my hand. The edges crumpled where my fingers pressed too hard.

Someone coughed.

A girl two tables over whispered something to her study partner. They both looked at me.

I should've said something. Defended myself. Told him he was wrong. That I'd sacrificed everything to be here. That I'd restructured my entire life around his schedule. That I loved him.

But my throat closed up.

I turned and walked out.

Behind me, the library stayed silent. No one said a word. Not even Katalina.

I made it to the hallway before my hands started shaking. I pressed my back against the wall. Stared at the fluorescent lights overhead. Counted my breaths. In for four. Out for four. The way my therapist taught me freshman year when the panic attacks started.

Grade-chaser.

Clings to smarter people.

I walked to the parking lot. Got in my car. Drove back to my studio apartment in Brooklyn. The one with the broken heater and the neighbor who played bass at two in the morning.

I sat on my bed. Stared at the research paper. The words blurred together.

At nine o'clock, I called Josie.

She picked up on the second ring. "Hey, what's up?"

I tried to say something. Nothing came out. Just a choked sound.

"Grace?" Her voice sharpened. "What happened?"

I told her. Everything. The library. Atticus's voice. Katalina's hand on his arm. The way everyone stared.

Josie was quiet for a long time. Then she said, "He doesn't deserve you. He never did."

"I know." My voice cracked. "I know that. But I don't know how to stop loving him."

"You will," she said. "I promise you will."

I cried for an hour. Josie stayed on the line. She didn't try to fix it. Didn't tell me it would be okay. She just stayed.

When I finally stopped, she said, "I'm here. Whenever you need me. I'm here."

I believed her.

I fell asleep with my phone still pressed to my ear and the research paper crumpled on the floor.