Chapter 1My husband's a human auto-reply machine. No matter what I text him, all I get back is "1."
Heading into a sketchy construction zone tomorrow. His response? 1
If you don't hear from me in 24 hours, come find me. His response? 1
Even when I got trapped in a collapse and sent him 309 desperate messages over 72 hours. His response? 309 1s.
That's when it hit me—every single reply I'd ever gotten was automatic. He never actually read my messages.
So he had no idea that two weeks ago, I told him I was taking this overseas transfer. That I'd be getting an abortion TODAY.
All his energy, all his attention? For her.
[1000 Days Together—Happy Birthday, Bex!]
The photo showed them wrapped around each other, all smiles.
I liked the post.
Left a comment: "What a perfect day."
It's the day I clawed my way out of that collapse three years ago.
And the day I'm done with Ryan Castellano for good.
---
I dragged myself home and crashed.
Woke up hours later. The cramping wasn't as bad—I could deal with it now.
But something still felt off. Empty. Not just my stomach.
The whole house felt wrong. Dark. Quiet. Like no one lived here anymore.
I almost texted Ryan without thinking—where he was, why he still wasn't home at three in the morning.
Then unlocked my phone and saw that wall of "1"s staring back.
Oh. Right.
Two years. Two years of this. How was I still not used to it?
Click.
The front door.
Ryan got home. Already pulling his wet shirt off, tossed it on the floor.
"Bex wanted pot roast. Took some over to her place. Rain got me on the way back."
He glanced at me. "You're still up?"
"Yeah."
He went into the bathroom. Hair dryer turned on a second later.
"What'd you do at the clinic today?" he yelled.
The dryer roared to life, drowning out everything.
"Got an abortion," I said.
He didn't hear me. Never left me space to answer anyway.
My eyes went to the woven bracelet on his wrist. Always showing under his sleeves.
Dude would literally sweat to death in a blazer in ninety-degree heat before taking that thing off.
And for what? A friendship bracelet Bex made him. Took her maybe ten minutes. If that.
"Ryan." I leaned on the doorframe. "Where's your wedding ring?"
He shut the dryer off, ran his hand through his hair. "Took it off."
"Don't like feeling locked in."
"But you wear that bracelet."
"It's not the same. This is soft. Ring gets in the way." He looked at me. "You're the only one who cares about wearing one anyway."
I looked down at my hand.
Ten-dollar ring from a street cart.
Bought it after I threw my real wedding band in the trash. Fake stone didn't even look real.
Ryan never noticed.
Stopped looking at my hands years ago. Stopped holding them even longer than that.
"Alright. Go to bed." He messed with my hair like I was five.
Then walked to the guest room.
We stopped sleeping in the same bed when I got pregnant. Said he stayed up too late. Didn't wanna wake me.
Actually? He was picking up Bex after her night shift, grabbing food with her, dropping her off, then dragging himself home around two or three.
Even then? Still texting.
One night, I walked past the guest room around five a.m. to pee. Light was on. I could hear typing. Quiet laughing.
I used to care. Used to wonder what they talked about. How two people had that much to say.
If he could talk to her all night, why couldn't he say anything to me?
Whatever. Didn't matter now.
My phone buzzed. Contract offer from overseas popped up.
I hit confirm. Went back to my room and crashed.
Chapter 2
I woke up to Ryan on the phone.
He was in the kitchen, FaceTiming Bex, singing her to sleep while looking up some prenatal smoothie bowl recipe.
Busy guy.
He saw me and hung up.
"Water's on the table."
I ignored him, sat down, almost fell asleep right there.
"Hey, wake up. Breakfast is ready."
Ryan set the plate down in front of me. Everything perfectly arranged.
I reached for my spoon. He smacked my hand away.
"Hold on. Let me take a picture."
Click.
He tapped his screen a few times and sent it off to Bex.
Then he handed the spoon back to me. "Okay. Eat."
I sat back in my chair. Lost my appetite.
"Why are you sending her pictures of my food?"
"She wanted to see." Ryan shrugged like it was nothing.
"She's curious. Asks about everything. Even the pajamas I got you."
"And you sent her a picture of those, too."
He paused. Must've caught my tone.
Didn't say anything.
"I saw the photo at her place. She was wearing the same set—that lace cami."
The one that barely covered anything.
In the picture, Bex had her arm hooked around his, leaning in close enough that you could see straight down her shirt.
And it wasn't just the pajamas.
Bex copied my hair color. My lipstick shade.
She even tried remaking this hand-painted wooden sign I'd made on our anniversary—the one I'd spent hours on, even carving our wedding date into it.
Obviously she couldn't pull it off. So Ryan just took mine and gave it to her.
Now it was in her apartment. Like some prize she'd won.
"I don't like this."
Ryan shrugged. "Come on. Don't be like that."
"She thinks you're amazing. Looks up to you. What's the big deal if she wants the same stuff?"
I didn't say anything.
Should've been angry. Should've yelled at him like I used to—back when I still had the energy for it.
But I felt nothing. Just… empty.
I nodded. "Yeah. You're right."
Right before my transfer, the company threw a party. Everyone had to bring someone.
I saw the group chat and was about to make up some excuse when my boss tagged me:
[This one's for you, Autumn. Your going-away party.]
Great.
I called Ryan. "Got this work party tonight. Need a plus-one or they're gonna set me up with someone random. You around?"
Tons of noise on his end.
"Hang on, I can't hear you—"
Shuffling. Then quiet.
"Yeah, okay. What's up?"
"Where are you?"
"Concert. Bex has been losing her mind over this show for like three months. Her friend flaked so I came with her."
"She really wanted to go," he added.
I laughed. "Dude. I didn't ask for your life story."
Nothing. Just his breathing.
I asked about the party again. He didn't say anything. Just hung up.
That night, I stood outside the office for an hour. Waiting.
No Ryan.
Wind picked up. Rain started coming down sideways, soaked my pants. Cold and nasty.
I went back inside to change.
When I came out, Ryan was already there.
With Bex.
Chapter 3
"Autumn! Over here!" Bex waved, all smiley.
Everyone at that table had someone. I didn't.
I turned to leave but my boss grabbed me and dragged me over.
"Autumn, your husband's right there! Sit with him!"
He looked at Ryan. "Come on, man. Stand up."
Bex grabbed Ryan's arm before I could move.
"He's my date."
Ryan nodded. "Yeah."
Boss looked confused as fuck but sat me down next to Ryan anyway.
"No worries," he said. "I'll find you someone."
I looked at Ryan. Wasn't even mad. Just disappointed.
I texted him first. He could've said no. Could've told me he was bringing her. Not let me stand outside in the fucking rain.
He said something before I could.
"Bex gets hit on a lot. She asked me to come so guys would leave her alone."
"Everyone knows you're married so no one's gonna mess with you. She's never dated anyone—doesn't know how creepy dudes get. Gotta watch out for her."
Once again, he picked Bex.
First time, I almost died.
Second time, I got humiliated in front of everyone.
Boss never found me anyone.
I sat in the corner by myself while Ryan and Bex did all the couple games. Danced. Laughed.
Last thing of the night was "Truth Swap." Couples go onstage and ask each other one real question.
When Bex dragged Ryan up there, room went quiet.
People remembered. The collapse. The whole thing.
I could feel everyone staring. Little jabs everywhere.
It brought it all back. That pain I thought was gone.
Two years ago, Bex called in sick. So I grabbed her drafts and went out to the site myself.
Pouring rain. Barely anyone around.
I trusted her work, so I just followed the plan and kept my head down.
Didn't realize I walked straight into a restricted zone.
BOOM.
The ground caved in. Tons of dirt and debris buried me.
A concrete slab landed right above me—barely—kept me from getting crushed. Left me in this tiny pocket. Pitch black. No air.
I couldn't see. Could barely breathe. Couldn't tell what was broken, just that everything hurt.
My right arm felt wrong. Twisted. I couldn't move it.
Used my left hand to feel around in the dark, inch by inch, till I found my phone.
Space was so tight I could only move my fingers.
Opened Ryan's chat from memory, started typing blind. Sent him message after message.
My strength was fading. Bit down on my tongue till I tasted blood, trying to stay awake.
Kept thinking about him. Kept saying his name.
"Ryan… I'm scared… please… help me…"
"I don't wanna die…"
Every second felt like forever.
I passed out. Woke up crying. Passed out again. Don't even know when my phone died.
I really thought he'd seen my messages. Thought he'd come.
Even when I was barely conscious, I kept whispering his name.
Thinking he'd find me.
Seventy-two hours later, the rescue team finally pulled me out.
Barely hanging on. Heart was beating so weak they almost called it.
Right there in front of everyone, paramedic called my emergency contact. Ryan.
Eight rings before someone picked up.
Bex. Mad as hell. "Stop calling! He's sleeping!"
They called back.
"Yeah, hi, this is about Autumn—"
She hung up. Blocked the number.
I'm dying and nobody can approve the surgery.
Doctor said fuck it. Did it anyway. Saved me without getting anyone's okay.
I spent two weeks in the ICU.
Ryan didn't visit once. Bex had him too busy.
My right arm was fucked. They put it back together but the nerves never fully healed. Had to do months of PT just to hold a pencil.
Even now my hand still shakes.
I almost divorced him after that.
I lost my shit. Screamed at him. Broke everything in the house. Almost burned the whole place down.
His face was covered in scratches. Red marks where I'd hit him. Blood on his shirt.
I was crying, shaking, asking him why.
"Why'd you set up auto-reply?! Why, Ryan?! Do you even give a shit?!"
He just stood there. Didn't move.
"Didn't wanna read them."
"You text way too much. Always sending me pics of clouds and cats and whatever. I don't care about that."
Something in me just died.
We kept getting further apart. I kept getting more pissed.
Till I couldn't take it anymore.
Couldn't do it. Couldn't keep pretending. Couldn't live my whole life like this.
Only thing I regret?
Giving him that many chances.
I should've left him two years ago.
Bex's laugh snapped me back.
She got up onstage, face all red, and asked:
"If you could go back... would you pick someone else?"
