No Longer Yours

It was exactly 4:00 AM when my girlfriend finally walked through the front door.

The guy who dropped her off was Julian, the male assistant she kept blurring every professional boundary with.

She collapsed onto the living room sofa with practiced ease, kicking off her heels and ordering me to massage her shoulders exactly like I always did.

She fully expected me to play the pathetic doormat, swallowing her blatant disrespect without a second thought. But I didn’t even bother looking at her.

I just turned around and headed straight for the bedroom. "Get your little lapdog Julian to rub them," I said, my voice dead flat. "After all, he's way more professional at kissing ass than I am." She slapped her palm against the coffee table, snapping about how petty I was being, convinced I was just throwing another silent tantrum to get her attention.

She had no idea. The corporate transfer papers were already signed and locked inside my briefcase. I was going to vanish from her world. Forever.

Chapter 1 Blair and Julian never technically crossed the physical line. But even when we were out on dates, she’d be glued to her phone, texting him back and forth.

They shared daily updates, swapped Spotify playlists, and built this suffocatingly intimate bubble just for the two of them.

Whenever I called her out on it, she’d immediately pull up the receipts, scrub the context clean, and tear into me for starting drama over nothing. Just like this current cold war.

I had tracked Julian taking Blair to a boutique hotel.

I stormed into the lobby, ready to burn the place down, only for Blair to drag the front desk clerk over to testify that they were merely using the business lounge to review a contract.

She stood right there, publicly humiliating me for being a paranoid control freak. Looking back at it now, the whole charade just felt exhausting.

I let out another yawn, squeezing a tear from the corner of my eye. "I'm seriously dead on my feet. Big day at the office tomorrow.

I'm going to bed." Blair narrowed her eyes at me, pressing her lips into a thin line. "I'll come with you then." I opened my mouth to tell her not to bother, but she was already trailing me down the hall.

Too drained to even form a counterargument, I just collapsed onto the mattress and rolled onto my side.

Blair changed into her pajamas, dragged her pillow over to my side of the bed, and slid her arms around my waist from behind. Her affection always felt like a handout.

Normally, I would have flipped over, pulled her against me, and let her roll her eyes and mock me for only ever thinking about getting her into bed. But right now?

I felt zero desire. "Just go to sleep," I mumbled into the sheets. The arms around me went rigid.

She yanked herself away and flipped onto her back, making the mattress bounce under her sudden shift.

I knew Blair was pissed, but I couldn't summon a single ounce of energy to coddle her. I just closed my eyes, letting the heavy silence swallow the room, and drifted back to sleep.

Chapter 2 The next morning, I walked into the bathroom to find Blair aggressively brushing her teeth, her face set in a hard, freezing glare.

She tracked me from the corner of her eye through the mirror as I walked past. I didn't even blink. I washed up, grabbed my keys, and headed straight to the office.

Turns out, actually getting a full night's sleep does wonders for your productivity. My head was clear.

I tore through my entire daily workload before noon, knocking out emails and untangling a few massive logistical nightmares for my team along the way. "Someone's in a suspiciously good mood today, Rhys.

Finally kissed and made up with the girlfriend?" Parker leaned against my cubicle partition, a teasing grin on his face. Looking at him, a bitter wave of reality washed over me.

Parker was barely in his midtwenties, but he operated with the ruthless precision of a corporate veteran.

Less than two years out of college, and he’d already fasttracked his way to a Director title.

Meanwhile, I’d been grinding at this company for years, stuck at a midlevel manager desk.

Sure, part of that stagnation came from the endless, exhausting cycle of fights and cold wars with Blair. But honestly?

The real blame landed square on my own shoulders for letting myself get drained dry. Staring at my screen, the truth clicked into place.

A man building his life around a woman who doesn't respect him is a dead man walking. The only real way forward was building my empire. "Not exactly.

Just finally got some decent sleep," I replied smoothly. Parker didn't push.

He just glanced over his shoulder, checking for eavesdroppers, before dropping his voice. "Listen, Rhys, I'm giving you a headsup off the record." "The VP seat at the New York Headquarters just opened up.

The big boss already signed off on transferring you into that slot.

Do not brush this off again." He leaned in closer, his tone turning dead serious. "This isn't like the other offers.

This is the big leagues." "Half the executives in this building are ready to draw blood for that seat.

You let this slip, and you're never seeing an opportunity like this again." I listened to the gravity in his voice, fully understanding why he looked so concerned.

The company had handed me multiple shots at the New York VP position before.

But because Blair always complained that longdistance relationships made her insecure, I always turned them down like a naive, overgrown fool.

I watched the guys who took those transfers skyrocket up the corporate ladder, cashing bonus checks in a single month that dwarfed my entire annual salary.

I knew exactly what this New York transfer meant. It was a golden ticket. The kind of leverage that catapults you into a completely different tax bracket. "Talk it out with Blair.

If she kicks up a fuss, I'll go reason with her myself," Parker pressed when I didn't immediately answer.

I snapped back to the present and let out a dry, genuine chuckle. "You don't need to talk to her." I looked him dead in the eye. "Print the transfer papers.

I'm taking the job." Parker looked like he didn't quite believe me.

He didn't drop the skepticism until I grabbed a pen, signed the transfer application, and slammed the corporate stamp onto the dotted line.

Seeing the genuine relief wash over him hit me hard. I owed him.

I told him dinner and drinks were on me tonight, and he immediately agreed, swearing he was going to bleed my wallet dry at the most expensive steakhouse in the city.

But fifteen minutes before I could clock out, my phone buzzed on the desk. Blair's caller ID flashed on the screen. I hit accept.

She didn't even bother saying hello. "Get over to my office right now. I have a contract bottleneck I can't figure out.

Get over here and fix it." Years ago, when Blair decided she wanted to play startup founder, I drained my entire savings account to get her company off the ground, taking only a token percentage of equity in return.

Over the years, the second she hit a wall, she'd dial my number. And like a naive fool, I would drop everything, shove my own career aside, and rush over to bail her out.

Yet every single time I put out her fires, she’d cross her arms, critique my methods, and casually mention how Julian would have handled it with so much more professional finesse.

Chapter 3 I scrolled through Yelp for a decent steakhouse nearby, my tone indifferent. "I'm not a closer, Blair. Find someone else.

If it's that desperate, hire a dedicated sales executive." "Rhys, what the hell is that attitude?" Her voice spiked, sharp and irritated. "Are you seriously still throwing a tantrum over yesterday?

I'm literally handing you an olive branch, talking to you nicely, and you're still acting like an ungrateful jerk?" I didn't have the energy for a screaming match. "I'm not mad." Blair scoffed, clearly not buying a single word. "I'm going to explain this one last time.

Julian and I are strictly professional." "There is nothing going on.

If you're going to keep being stubbornly paranoid, there's nothing I can do for you." "Blair, let me talk to Rhys.

I can explain," Julian's voice suddenly drifted through the receiver. I knew this script by heart.

Next came the synchronized performance where they played the innocent victims, spinning the narrative until I was the crazy, suffocating boyfriend inventing drama out of thin air.

I didn't waste another second. I hit the red button and ended the call. My screen lit up again. And again. She was nothing if not persistent.

Finally, tired of the buzzing, I shot her a sterile text: [ Tied up. Can't talk. ] That evening, Parker dragged me to a packed smokehouse downtown.

A few rounds of stiff bourbon loosened us up, and we ended up diving into territory we'd never touched at the office. Turned out, the guy had his own scars.

Right out of college, his exgirlfriend's family had chased him off because he didn't have a trust fund or a flashy portfolio.

They broke up, and he'd been aggressively climbing the corporate ladder ever since.

Swirling his glass, he looked me dead in the eye, hammering home that a man's only real leverage in this world is his empire. I felt that in my bones.

It was past 1:00 AM by the time I caught an Uber back. The city skyline was a blur of electric neon against the dark. Staring out the window, a bitter realization hit me.

No wonder Blair loved staying out so late. The freedom was intoxicating.

For years, the second I clocked out, I was rushing back to our apartment to cook her a hot dinner, scrub the counters, and play the perfect, domesticated househusband.

I never gave myself the chance to just breathe.

She always complained I wasn't romantic enough, claiming that hanging around Julian and his fratboy friends made her feel a decade younger. I got it.

Everyone loves the thrill of the party. But if everyone's out playing in the neon lights, who's left to scrub the grime off the floors at home? The Uber dropped me off.

I stood in the freezing wind, smoked a cigarette down to the filter, and finally took the elevator up. I slipped the key into the lock, turning it silently.

I fully expected Blair to still be out clubbing, so when the door swung open, I froze. She was sitting dead center on the sofa, enveloped in the dark, her face a mask of cold fury.

Like a predator waiting for the trap to spring.

For a second, I thought the bourbon was playing tricks on my eyes. "You're home early," I muttered, kicking off my shoes and walking in.

As I passed her, her nose crinkled in disgust. She stood up, leaned in, and immediately recoiled, taking two sharp steps back. "You smell like a brewery.

Did you seriously smoke?" "Yeah." I gave a stiff nod. She clapped a hand over her nose and marched over to yank the windows wide open.

Watching her play the offended aristocrat, I couldn't help but notice the sheer hypocrisy.

She’d clearly forgotten the countless nights she'd stumbled through that door reeking of tequila and cheap vape smoke, throwing up all over the designer rug while I cleaned up her mess without batting an eye. "I'm taking a shower." I headed straight for the bathroom, but she stepped right into my path, blocking the hallway.

Her eyes locked onto mine, freezing cold. "Why the hell did you hang up on me today?" "I was working," I stated flatly. "You never hang up on me!" she snapped. "Whenever my startup needed something, you were on call 24/7.

You never used your little corporate desk job as an excuse before." Blair let out a heavy, patronizing sigh. "Rhys, I know you're still throwing a fit, but I honestly don't get it." "What is your actual problem?

I laid it all out for you. I gave you the explanation.

What more do you want from me?" Chapter 4 "You're throwing this massive, jealous fit, falsely accusing me and Julian of God knows what. And Julian?

He didn't even complain." "He already forgave you, even without you bothering to apologize.

He’s actually been defending you to me, begging me not to stay mad at you." She crossed her arms, glaring at me like I was a stubborn child. "He can be the bigger person and understand your insecurities.

Why can’t you show him the exact same basic courtesy?" In the past, hearing that twisted logic would have instantly triggered a screaming match.

She always painted me as the selfish, paranoid, toxic boyfriend, while Julian was somehow the flawless saint. I honestly didn't have the energy to engage. "I'm seriously not mad.

Drop it." When she still refused to move out of the hallway, I slapped a hand over my mouth, contorting my face into a wince. "The wind from the ride gave me a massive migraine.

I'm going to throw up." Right on cue, her outstretched arm yanked back in disgust. I leaned over the bathroom sink, mimicking a few dry heaves. The hallway went dead quiet.

A few minutes later, the unmistakable click of the front door shutting echoed through the apartment.

I took my time, letting the scalding water of the shower wash off the grime of the day. When I stepped back into the living room, I noticed the windows had been slammed shut.

Sitting dead center on the coffee table was a freshly made glass of water. Normally, that would have been a touching gesture. Now, it just felt like ice water down my spine.

She forgot I had a severe, lifethreatening nut allergy. And floating right there in that glass was a generous sprinkle of crushed almonds—Julian's favorite.

One sip of that would send me straight into anaphylactic shock and an emergency room bed. I didn't even touch the glass. I just walked straight into my bedroom.

Right before I crashed, I aimlessly scrolled through Instagram. Julian's story popped up.

It was a short clip of Blair, wearing an apron, bustling around a kitchen. [ Under the weather, but the boss lady came over personally to take care of me.

She’s even grilling up my favorite ribeye steak. So blessed. ] No wonder she bolted out the door without a single word. She ran off to play private nurse for Julian.

She memorized his exact highend cravings, but couldn't be bothered to remember what would literally kill me. Less than two seconds later, the story vanished. Deleted.

I locked my screen, pretending I never saw a thing, and let sleep drag me under. The official transfer notice from Headquarters hit my inbox the very next morning.

The timeline was ruthless: fly out today, report to the New York office tomorrow. The team wanted to throw together a massive farewell lunch to send me off.

I shot down the fuss, but Parker absolutely insisted on driving me to the airport. I couldn't brush him off, so I thanked him and took him up on it.

By midafternoon, my desk was boxed up. Parker drove me back to my apartment building so I could pack my suitcases.

I headed up to our floor while he kept the engine running downstairs. Blair should have been at her office. My plan was to text her from the terminal right before boarding.

But the second I stepped up to the front door, I heard booming laughter echoing from inside. It was her dad.

His thick, commanding voice dripped with approval. "I'm telling you, Blair, this Julian kid is sharp. He’s got hustle.

He’s attentive, knows how to work a room, and actually brings us highend gifts.

He’s a hell of a lot more likable than Rhys." Her mother chimed in, laying on a thick, lecturing tone. "Exactly.

At his core, Rhys is just a broke wageslave without a trust fund to his name." "The second you hit the big leagues and move up a tax bracket, he’s only going to drag your public company down!

He's completely out of your league now anyway. That pathetic paycheck he drags home barely covers his own bills." "You are a CEO, Blair. You built a startup from the ground up.

I swear, I’m terrified he’s going to try and latch onto your assets." "Now, Julian might not be rolling in cash right now, but he’s young and hungry.

Plus, his parents own real estate. That’s solid backing. He actually has the capital and connections to boost your business later." Blair didn't even try to defend me.

She just mumbled, her voice hesitant. "But… Rhys and I have been together for years." "So what?" Her mother fired back, unfazed. "People dump their deadweight boyfriends every day." "Hell, people get divorced all the time.

Cut your losses." Chapter 5 "Listen to your parents, Blair.

Everyone says it: you don't have to marry the guy your parents pick, but you cannot marry the guy they tell you to dump." "We've been around the block more times than you can count.

Trust us on this." Her parents took turns hammering the point home. I stopped dead in my tracks right outside the front door. Caught in no man's land.

I knew Blair's parents always looked down on me. To them, my lack of generational wealth and family connections meant I was a liability who would only drag their daughter down.

But I never let it get to me.

No matter how many dirty looks they shot my way, every Thanksgiving and Christmas, I would pack the trunk full of expensive vintage wines, premium cigars, and luxury gifts, just to drive Blair up to see them.

Back when her startup was bleeding cash, her mother spent three days in the hospital.

Blair couldn't step away from her desk, so I burned my vacation days without a second thought to stay by her mother's bedside.

I slept four hours in three days and paid the entire medical bill out of my own pocket. When her dad wanted to upgrade to a bigger house, he asked me for a loan.

I swallowed the pain of canceling my plans for a new car and wired him the cash without a single complaint. Even now, he hasn't mentioned paying a dime back, and I never pushed it.

I just wanted their validation. I wanted their blessing to marry Blair. But it was never enough. Honestly, it shouldn't have surprised me.

Every time Blair and I got into a cold war, she would run straight to them, crying and listing out every single one of my flaws. Their hatred for me wasn't pulled from thin air.

It was entirely fed by her. Blair seemed to waver. "Let me think about it," she murmured. I exhaled a slow breath and pushed the door open.

The three of them were lounging on the sofas. When I walked in, the room froze. Her parents recovered quickly, averting their eyes with their usual cold indifference.

But a flash of raw panic flickered through Blair's eyes. She shot up from the cushions. "What are you doing home right now?" "Just grabbing some things," I replied flatly.

Her voice was tight, probing. "When exactly did you get here?" I looked down, taking off my shoes, and my eyes landed on an extra pair of men's Air Jordans by the door. "Just now.

Why?" She let out a visible breath of relief. "Nothing. Don't even bother taking your shoes off, it's too much of a hassle.

Tell me what you need, I'll go grab it for you." Seeing her practically vibrating with the urge to shove me back out the door, my chest went hollow. I ignored her.

I stepped past her and headed straight for the bedroom.

As I did, I nearly collided with Julian, who was walking out of the kitchen balancing a tray of expensive drinks. "Whoa, watch your step, Rhys!

What are you doing back so early?" he chirped. "Want a drink? Just poured them." "No." I didn't waste another second on him. I walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind me.

The second the latch clicked, I heard Julian’s obnoxiously innocent voice filter through the wood. "Blair, do you think Rhys is mad that I'm here?" Blair didn't answer.

Her mother's icy voice cut in. "Ignore him. Zero manners, zero class. Who the hell is he throwing that long face for?" I didn't make a sound. I just focused on packing my suitcase.

Every now and then, the cheerful, ringing laughter of the three of them drifted through the door. I sped up.

Zipping the suitcase shut, I grabbed the handle and pushed the bedroom door open—just in time to see Julian's fingers interlaced with Blair's.

The second Blair saw me, she yanked her hand back like she'd touched a hot stove. I gave a careless nod. "Oh." Chapter 6 I kept walking toward the door.

That was when Blair finally noticed the suitcase in my hand. "Where are you going?" She shot up from the sofa, her eyes darting to the luggage with a sudden, visible flash of panic. "Business trip," I replied, my voice dead flat.

Blair didn't buy it. "You never mentioned anything about a trip." I opened my mouth to respond, but Julian beat me to it. "Rhys, are you seriously throwing another jealous fit just because I'm here?" He turned to the others, his posture shrinking into the picture of innocence. "Blair, Mr. and Mrs.

Davis… I should probably just go. It's clearly not appropriate for me to be here." He made a theatrical show of reaching for his jacket.

Blair's mother immediately grabbed his arm. "Julian, sit down. You're not going anywhere." She shot a venomous glare in my direction. "Blair runs a multimilliondollar company.

Most of her investors and partners are men." "Is she supposed to burn all her professional bridges and isolate herself just to coddle his fragile ego?

He's a grown man throwing a tantrum because the universe doesn't revolve around him." Her dad let out a cold scoff, not even bothering to look at me fully. "If he wants to walk, let him walk.

Who gives a damn?" But Blair ignored them. She crossed the room, stopping right in front of me. "Julian just helped me pick my parents up from the airport.

We only asked him to stay for a drink to say thank you." "That's it.

Don't overthink this." She reached out, her fingers brushing the handle of my suitcase. "If it bothers you that much, we can take him out to dinner.

You don't have to leave." Realizing she was actually trying to get me to stay, a brief flicker of surprise crossed my mind. But my hand didn't waver.

I shifted my grip, pulling the luggage out of her reach, and stepped toward the door. "Don't bother.

You guys enjoy yourselves." I looked her dead in the eye. "I only came back to pack my things anyway. We're done." Blair froze.

Her entire body went rigid, her eyes widening as if I had just slapped her