Chapter 8: Breaking Point

Marcus never got the chicken soup. He didn’t come back to the office. His phone was dead to the world. And then I got a call from Marcus’s mother, summoning me to the old house.

When I got there, she was waiting with her arms crossed, tapping her foot. She eyed the thermos in my hands. "Pour that out. Put my soup in. Take it to Marcus. I made it special for him, but he’s leaving for an overseas trip tonight. Hurry, so he can have it before he goes."

It was raining so hard it blurred the world. The drive from the company to the old house took two hours, and by the time I was ready to head back, I knew I’d never make it in time. But Marcus’s mom had never liked me, and I wasn’t about to pick a fight I couldn’t win.

She pushed me toward the door. As I left, I heard her mutter to the housekeeper, "Well, bless her heart, she finally left. I’ve seen Marcus moon over that sweet little assistant for ages. He just feels guilty about that jinx. Now the assistant’s in the hospital, it’s the perfect excuse. I bet Marcus is with her right now. If that bad luck charm catches them, maybe she’ll finally ask for a divorce."

I stood frozen in the doorway, thermos in hand, her words echoing in my ears.

I can’t remember getting in the car or pulling onto the highway. Headlights flashed in my eyes, a truck’s horn blared, and suddenly I was spinning, the world turning upside down. My car slid off the road and crashed into a tree halfway down the embankment.

A branch punched through the window and jabbed my shoulder. For a moment, pain was the only real thing left. I thought of Derek’s words, Marcus’s mom’s voice, and I stopped caring about living. I was tired, so tired. Maybe this was what I’d wanted all along.

But still, a voice kept calling me—Rachel, Rachel. Annoying, persistent, caring.

I sighed and dialed 911. My words were slurred, location unclear, and the operator grew impatient. I hung up and called Marcus. The call rang and rang. No answer. My battery was dying, the rain pounding down, my consciousness slipping away.

In the fog, my mind wandered to Marcus’s office. I imagined myself pushing open the door to the break room—and there they were, Marcus and Aubrey, tangled together. A box of condoms on the nightstand, Marcus’s phone on the floor, buzzing with my call until it finally went dark.

I laughed—a wild, broken sound. I must be dying. I’d bet everything on Marcus, and lost. He chose Aubrey, even in the end.

A gust of wind knocked over the lamp. Darkness closed in. Their voices, muffled and distant, faded away.

I woke back in my own body, alone in the wrecked car, rain soaking through my clothes. I stared at the stormy sky, closed my eyes, and let the world fade.

Maybe dying alone is better. At least I’m not anyone’s burden.

"Rachel?"

A voice called me again. I couldn’t answer. My soul felt scattered, dissolving into the rain. One last thought flickered: If I hadn’t gotten sick, if I let go of Marcus, what kind of life could I have had?

At last, I let go and drifted into the storm.