Curtis woke to the faint glow of morning seeping through the blinds. For a moment, everything felt still — the sheets warm, the air quiet — until his hand reached out across the bed and met only emptiness.
He blinked, half-asleep, confused."Allie?"
No answer.
The spot beside him was cold.
Panic jolted through his chest as he sat up, scanning the room. The bathroom door stood open; the light was off. The living room was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator. And then — on the kitchen counter — he saw it.
A folded note.
He approached slowly, his heart pounding, and read:
Hi Kit,
Thank you for your trust, time, and help. We accomplished what we agreed on, so it's time to go our separate ways.
I wish you well.
— Allie.
For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at the neat handwriting. His fingers trembled as he set the note back down.
It was too clean. Too polite. Too final.
His whole body seemed to cave in as he leaned against the counter, head bowed. This is how it ends?
He pressed his palms into the counter, exhaling through his nose. Every part of him screamed to go after her — to fix it, to make her stay — but another voice whispered that maybe she truly meant goodbye.
Still, he couldn't sit still. Maybe she'd go to Coppa later. Maybe she just needed space. Maybe…
He was about to shower when his phone rang somewhere under the couch cushions. He dug around, found it, and answered without looking at the screen, breathless.
"Hi!" he said, too eager, hope flooding his voice.
"Good afternoon, Harper!"
The voice was light, cheerful — and completely wrong.
"Sorry, who—?"
"It's Nadine," came the soft laugh on the other end.
Curtis blinked, glancing at the clock. It was afternoon. Monday.He'd slept the entire day away.
"Oh— Nadine, I… sorry, I didn't check the time."
"That's okay," she replied warmly. "I just wanted to make sure you're alright. You didn't come in this morning, and you didn't message anyone. It's not like you."
He rubbed his forehead, trying to sound composed. "Yeah, sorry about that. I wasn't feeling well. I'll be back tomorrow."
"Oh, thank goodness," she said, relief in her tone. "We were worried. And— if you need anything… or someone to talk to… I'm here, okay?"
"Thanks, Nadine. I'll see you tomorrow."
He hung up and stared at his reflection in the black phone screen.What had happened to him?
The man he used to be — punctual, precise, in control — was gone. Ever since she came into his life, everything he thought he understood about himself had shifted. He'd traded certainty for chaos. And for the first time, he didn't regret it.
Curtis set the phone down, looked around the empty apartment, and sighed. The place felt hollow without her. The couch still smelled faintly of her shampoo; the coffee mug on the counter still held a trace of her lipstick.
He couldn't stay there.He showered, dressed quickly, and went straight to Coppa. The bell above the café door jingled as he entered, scanning the room like a man searching for air.
No Allie.
Only Zack behind the counter, juggling orders.
Curtis went straight up to him. "Zack — where's Allie?"
Zack looked up from the espresso machine and shook his head. "She was here this morning. Left early. Said she had stuff to take care of."
Curtis's stomach dropped. "Did she say where she was going?"
"Nope. Sorry, man."
Curtis nodded faintly, ordered his usual black coffee just for something to do with his hands, and left without taking a sip.
The street outside was bright and noisy — cars passing, laughter spilling from open shop doors — but it all sounded distant, muffled, unreal.
He called her again. Straight to voicemail.
Then again.And again.
By the fifth message, his voice cracked.
"Allie… just call me back, okay? Please."
He stopped walking, staring at the city skyline, realizing how helpless he was. He didn't even know where she lived.
You need to give her time, he told himself. You've already done enough damage. But it didn't feel like enough. It felt like losing oxygen.
Across town, Allie lay curled on Clarisse's bed, her face buried in a pillow. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. The curtains were drawn, the room dim except for the soft glow of a lamp on the nightstand.
Clarisse came in quietly, setting down two cups of matcha. She didn't say anything at first — she just sat behind Allie and pulled her into a hug.
"It's okay," she whispered, stroking her hair. "Cry it out."
Allie turned, her face blotchy and tear-streaked. "I'm the worst person in the world, Clarisse. What must he think of me now?"
Clarisse sighed, tightening her hold. "Hey. You didn't do anything wrong. You did what you had to do. If anyone else were in your shoes, they'd have made the same choice."
"But I—" Allie's voice cracked. "I meant it. I wanted to be with him. And now… he probably thinks I used him."
"Oh, honey." Clarisse brushed a thumb under her eyes. "You don't owe him an explanation right now. You need to breathe first. Heal first."
Allie nodded weakly, her tears finally slowing. She stayed like that for hours, clinging to the silence, until exhaustion finally took her.
By the next morning, she packed up her things, thanked Clarisse, and went home.
She changed her number. Quit both jobs.And devoted herself entirely to her mother's care.
No distractions. No reminders.No Curtis.
Days turned to weeks.
Curtis returned to work, trying to bury himself in spreadsheets and trading screens. But his focus was fractured. He stopped going to Coppa, though he found himself walking past it more than once, hoping maybe she'd be there by some miracle.
Then came the market crash.
The stock index plummeted, investors panicked, and the entire office erupted in chaos. Curtis barely slept for days, holding conference calls through the night, negotiating with clients, managing damage control.
Every time he caught his reflection in the office window — pale, tired, unshaven — he thought of her.
He imagined what she'd say if she were there:"Breathe, Kit. You got this."
When the market finally stabilized, everyone hailed him as a hero. Mr. Rogers clapped him on the back, praising his foresight.
But Curtis didn't feel victorious. He felt empty.
The first thing he did after the crisis ended was drive straight to Coppa.
The café was quieter than usual. He scanned the room — no Allie. Only Zack, cleaning up behind the counter.
When Zack saw him, he paused, uncertain. "Hey, man. You okay?"
Curtis hesitated. "Have you seen her lately?"
Zack's face softened. "You didn't hear? Allie quit a few days ago. Left a note for the owner. Didn't say where she was going."
Curtis felt the floor tilt beneath him. "She what?"
"Yeah… just up and left. Sorry, dude."
He managed a nod before walking out, his chest tight. The street outside was full of people, but he'd never felt more alone.The next day, he went through the motions — shower, suit, coffee, office — but his mind was somewhere else. Everything reminded him of her: the smell of espresso, the soft hum of morning chatter, the faint floral scent that lingered on his jacket.
When he left work that evening, the sun was dipping low behind the skyline. He spotted Nadine waiting outside the building, leaning against a pillar, her expression nervous but hopeful.
"Hey," she greeted, smiling. "Do you have a minute?"
"Sure," he said cautiously.
Before he could add another word, Nadine leaned in and pressed a quick, uncertain kiss to his lips.
Curtis froze, eyes wide.
She stepped back immediately, her cheeks flushed. "I—I've been wanting to tell you for a while," she said in a rush. "I like you, Curtis. I really do. I just didn't know when or how to say it."
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His mind was still reeling — from her confession, from the unexpected kiss, from searching for Allie.
Nadine forced a small smile, her voice trembling slightly. "You don't have to say anything right now. I just… wanted you to know."
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and added softly, "I'll wait."
Then she turned and walked away, leaving him standing there under the fading light, silent — the taste of confusion and longing still lingering in the air.