Alex’s pov

The afternoon light cut through the half-closed blinds and landed right across the couch where I sat with a half-empty bottle of whiskey already sweating in my hand.

Julian’s place always smelled like clean laundry and that expensive cologne he wore, and right now the quiet of it pressed in on me harder than the breakup did.

My phone buzzed again on the cushion beside me. I already knew who it was before I looked.

“She really just said it,” I muttered, unlocking the screen. “Moved on already. Three days and she’s posting pictures with some new guy’s arm around her. Three fucking days.”

Julian sat at the...