I could have skipped, but why? This was my life now. I wasn't dodging shadows.
Emily assured me: "If it gets weird, we leave. But you've got nothing to hide."
She was right. I'd sat with the betrayal long enough; the confusion had faded into clarity. Sarah's games taught me my worth: no more backups.
In the weeks leading up, Sarah's downfall accelerated. Mutual friends filled in blanks without me asking. After Jake ditched her, she spiraled: quit her steady freelance gig for a passion project that flopped, racking up debt on credit cards I'd once co-signed (I removed myself early, thank God). Isolation hit hard; her creative crew bailed when she couldn't keep up the party facade.
One night, a blocked number called—probably her—but I let it ring. Her family, toxic as ever, ramped up indirect pressure. Emily got texts from aunts: Tell Alex to man up and forgive. Sarah's learned her lesson. Unpleasant guilt trips laced with entitlement. We ignored them.
Karma felt earned, not vengeful. She'd treated me like an option; now life mirrored it back: broke, crashing on a friend's couch (ironic, huh?), reputation tarnished, posts about "growth" turned to desperate pleas for gigs.
I thrived quietly: promotion at work, weekend hikes with Emily, even started a side coding tutorial blog. The unfairness—it breathed, then dissolved. She discarded gold for glitter; I polished myself.
The holiday buzzed with tension from the start. Emily's parents' house was a warm suburban spot with string lights and a packed table. We arrived early, helping set up. Laughter filled the air; I felt at home.
Then Sarah showed up: disheveled, forced smile, alone. Her eyes locked on us instantly.
She approached during appetizers, cornering me by the kitchen. "Alex," she started, voice shaky but edged with smug residue. "Didn't expect to see you here... with her." A glance at Emily, dripping disdain.
I stayed calm, sipping cider. "Family gathering. Makes sense."
She leaned in, desperate now. "Can we talk privately? I've changed. That space thing was stupid. I see now. Jake was a mistake. Everything's a mess without you. Please, let's try again."
Twisted logic again, blaming "space" like it wasn't her cruelty. Hypocrisy peaked: she needed me after ghosting our life.
"No, Sarah. That ship sailed."