I stood outside Ezra’s apartment, my heart pounding in my chest. The fight we had last week had been ugly—words we didn’t mean, accusations that stung. But I wasn’t ready to give up on us.
I took a shaky breath and knocked.
When he opened the door, his expression was unreadable. “What are you doing here, Sophia?”
“I came to apologize,” I said softly, stepping inside. “I was wrong, and I—” My words caught in my throat as I noticed the boxes stacked against the walls.
“What’s going on?”
Ezra sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I was going to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
He hesitated, then met my eyes. “I’m moving out. I found a new place.”
I blinked. “Wait—you’re moving out of here?” My stomach twisted. “Ezra, I came to fix things, to—”
He shook his head. “Sophia, it’s too late.”
I stepped back, struggling to breathe. “Where are you even going?”
And then he said it.
“With your mother.”
The room spun. “What?”
“She offered me a place to stay. It makes sense.”
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.” He crossed his arms. “She understands me, Sophia. She listens. She—”
“She’s my mother!” My voice cracked. “You don’t see how messed up this is?”
Ezra exhaled sharply. “Sophia, things between us have been bad for a long time. Your mom—”
I held up a hand, shaking my head. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
I turned and walked out before he could say another word.
I barely noticed the cold night air as I stumbled to my car, my mind racing. This wasn’t just about the fight. It was bigger than that. How long had this been going on? How long had my own mother been comforting my boyfriend behind my back?
A lump formed in my throat as I drove home. I couldn’t go to her. Not now. Not yet. I needed time to think, to process the betrayal.
The next morning, my phone buzzed. A message from my mother.
*Sophia, please call me. We need to talk.*
I tossed my phone aside. I wasn’t ready to hear her excuses. Not yet.
Over the next few days, my mind wouldn’t stop replaying every moment, every time my mother had mentioned Ezra in passing. The way she had defended him after our fights, the way she always seemed to know how he was feeling before I did.
Had she been planning this? Had he?
On the fourth day, I finally caved and drove to her house. The same house I grew up in, the house where she had raised me, where I had once felt safe.
Now, it felt foreign.
She opened the door before I even knocked. “Sophia, thank God. I was so worried.”
I stepped inside, my arms crossed. “So, it’s true? Ezra’s here?”
Her face softened. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I laughed bitterly. “That’s funny because that’s exactly what you did.”
“Ezra had nowhere else to go,” she said. “You two were fighting so much, and I—”
“You what? Thought you’d take him in like some stray?” My voice was sharp. “Mom, do you even hear yourself?”
She sighed. “I just wanted to help.”
I shook my head. “No, you wanted to take my place. Or maybe he wanted you to.”
She looked away, guilt written all over her face.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
I turned on my heel, heading for the door. “Enjoy your new roommate.”
“Sophia, wait!”
But I was already gone.
As I drove away, a strange sense of relief washed over me. It hurt—God, it hurt—but I wasn’t the one who had lost something that day. They were.
And I would be just fine without them.
