Chapter 2: The Slippers by the Door

On the seventh day of Caleb’s silent treatment and vanishing act, I bumped into him on the block where I tutor kids after school.

He was hauling two oversized grocery bags—one stuffed with produce, the other brimming with Kleenex and toothpaste.

His fingers were red from the cold, but he didn’t seem to notice the neighbors gawking as he walked into the bodega. Caleb always acted like he was above the stares, never ducking his head or quickening his pace.

He looked surprised to see me, but nowhere near as rattled as I’d imagined he’d be.

He led me upstairs. That’s when I finally met the girl from all the rumors.

“She had surgery and there’s no one else to help her. I didn’t tell you because I figured you’d overthink it.”

I spotted two pairs of matching slippers by the door—one pink, one blue, lined up like a couple. Nobody in college keeps matching slippers by the door—unless they’re living together. These weren’t for guests. They were for someone who belonged.

Erin Miller looked startled, tried to scramble up and nearly fell off the bed.

Caleb dropped the bags and rushed to steady her, his face creased with worry.

I stood frozen in the doorway.

“I’m fine, Caleb. Seriously—let the guest in.”

Yeah, just a guest. Nothing more.

The apartment was almost too warm, and the citrusy plug-in air freshener made the air thick. I stayed by the door, shoes on, feeling like I’d wandered into someone else’s life. A Yankees cap hung by the door, and the TV was paused on an old Friends rerun. Two mugs in the sink, a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table.

Caleb rinsed vegetables in the tiny kitchen. Looked like dinner was pizza. What used to be pizza for two now had me as the awkward third wheel. Even my plate was paper.

“I’m really sorry,” Erin said, voice small. “I don’t know anyone else here, so Caleb’s been helping. I already told him off for not mentioning it to you—he’s just clueless about this stuff.”

I forced a smile, not trusting myself to say anything at all.

I ate quietly, picking at my food. Caleb walked me out afterward.

Under the dim streetlight, our shadows were the only things close together. We, on the other hand, felt miles apart.

The wind cut through my coat, and the street was empty except for the blinking traffic light at the corner. Every step away from the apartment felt heavier, like I was leaving behind more than just dinner.