I never imagined I would see Everett Harrison again.

The man must have driven through the night; he looked utterly exhausted. His clothes, once perfectly pressed, were now disheveled and bordering on sloppy. There was a smear of something dark on his hem—a grimy stain that looked completely out of place on him.

When he opened the car door, I couldn't help but jump. It had been so long that he felt like a total stranger.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bennett, would you mind giving us a moment?"

My mother looked like she wanted to lunge at him, her face twisting with an urge to tear into him, but my father held her back. He shot me a look of deep, protective concern before ushering her inside.

Once they were gone, Everett reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

"Mind?"

He didn't wait for an answer, lighting it immediately and taking a jagged, desperate inhale.

"Evelyn, you look younger than you did three years ago."

I said nothing, just kept my eyes on him.

He held the half-burned cigarette between his fingers and let out a dry, hollow laugh.

"How have you been these past few years?"

"I’ve been miserable," he said, answering his own question.

His face was etched with a weariness that went bone-deep.

"Don't worry. I’m not here to ask you to take me back. I just wanted you to know that your choice was the right one. Ever since I married Hailey Silva, my life has been a wreck."

I remained silent throughout the entire performance. Everett treated me like I wasn't even there, venting his grievances as if he were speaking to the air or engaging in a bitter internal monologue.

He confessed that Hailey was fine as a fling, but an utter disaster as a wife. When their child annoyed her, she took off to stay with friends. When they fought, she ran back to her parents’ house.

Every day was a marathon of exhaustion. It wasn't just his body that was tired; his spirit was completely drained.

Why come here to tell me this? He didn't know.

I did, though.

He realized I was the only person who had ever seen him for what he really was—vulnerable and pathetic. In front of me, he no longer had to exhaust himself keeping up the charade.

The cigarette burned down to the filter, and he crushed it under his heel. His eyes turned sharp, flickering with a cold, desperate malice. He knew he would have to deal with the vultures in the Silva family eventually, but not today.

"I can’t divorce Hailey right now. It looks like I’ll be living this life for a long time." Everett fixed his gaze on me, begging for a final crumb of validation or pity.

"Right," I said. "Well, goodbye then."

No need for more words. He was already a stranger.

My future was waiting for me ahead.

Not back there.

(End of Story)