last chance 1

Chapter 1 

1 

Every fight triggers my boyfriend’s social media countdown-a relic of our dumb “three-day silence equals breakup” rule. For ten years, he’s weaponized it. 

When he skipped our 67th courthouse wedding date to help his “just-divorced” childhood friend-then post- ed their marriage certificate-I finally snapped. 

I liked the post and wished them well. 

His rage exploded: “Mandy accidentally clicked ‘share’! Must you be so petty? She’s fragile right now!” 

“It’s just paperwork. I’ll marry you when she’s stable. Apologize now.” 

This time, I hung up. 

The countdown began again. But no desperate texts. No begging outside his door. 

Just my resignation submitted. 

Done. 

After I hung up on a dozen of his follow-up calls, he finally sent a text, his patience worn thin: 

‘Merrin, you’ve got some nerve. Hanging up on me? You think you’re in the right here?” 

‘You have five minutes to post an apology, or we’re through.” 

Ten years together, and I’d heard threats like this a hundred times. Every single time, I was the one to cave, to plead for forgiveness. This was the first time I’d ever just hung up. 

When I didn’t respond, Steve started the countdown on his social media feed. 

He knew how much I loved him, and he used it. Every fight, he’d start the clock, piling on the pressure. For ten years, that stupid rule was his leash, and I was always the one to come crawling back just before time 

‘an out. 

But now, I’m tired. I’m so tired of being played. 

Not long after Steve’s post, Mandy, the childhood friend, posted one of her own, tagging me specifically. 

‘Just a little joke with Steve that I accidentally made public. I didn’t realize Merrin would get so upset. I gue- ss I shouldn’t even talk to her anymore, I’m so afraid of setting her off.” 

Steve, who rarely even looks at his feed, was the first to like it. 

‘It’s someone’s own issue, Mandy, don’t blame yourself. And why should you hide it? If you want to post something, post it.” 

1601 

Chapter 

“Someone,” of course, meant me. Our mutual friends, whose businesses relied on Steve’s law firm, quickly followed suit. 

“Merrin is so petty. Don’t let someone like her get you down, Mandy.” 

“No wonder Steve won’t marry her. I wouldn’t marry a woman that insecure either.” 

I let out a bitter laugh. He would bend over backwards to defend Mandy, terrified of her feeling even a sliver of discomfort. But me, his girlfriend of ten years? I was always met with cold indifference. 

Mandy could sneeze, and he would ditch our appointment at the courthouse. I’d complain, and he’d get angrier than I was, accusing me of being controlling and petty. 

But now that I’d finally let go and congratulated them, he was back to his threats and countdowns, demand. ing I apologize. 

It was never about right or wrong. The scales of his affection had tipped long ago. 

“Ma’am, the man whose ID you provided is already married. Would you like to change the applicant?” 

The clerk looked at me with pity. I took the ID back and smiled. 

“That’s something to consider.” 

The young couple behind me cheered as I stepped out of line. It was Valentine’s Day, and appointments at the clerk’s office were a hot commodity. I had waited for hours just to get this spot. 

But now, looking at the registration form in my hand, I ripped it to shreds without a second thought and 

tossed it in the trash. 

I had filled out that form 67 times. I had given him 67 chances. 

Every time, I would show up early, full of hope, watching the happy couples while I waited for him to arrive. And every time, just before our appointment, he would call with an excuse. The firm was busy. A client was 

in crisis. 

‘Merrin, these are people’s lives on the line,” he would say, his voice dripping with self-importance. “You want 

me to abandon them for a piece of paper? How can you be so selfish?” 

He never knew that after he ditched me for Mandy, she would send me texts, gloating. 

“Steve’s cooking is amazing. I bet you’ve never had it, have you?” 

“I walked a little too far today, and Steve was so worried he bought me a luxury car. You’re still using a bike share, right?” 

And now, he’d even gotten a marriage license with her. 

It was time for our story to end.