I didn’t interrupt.
I had said my part.
Now it was hers.
Shelby turned to me slowly.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered.
I believed her.
That didn’t erase the hurt.
But I believed her.
“I know,” I said softly.
Tyson grabbed his jacket.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”
One of his friends stood up.
“Man… maybe we should go.”
The others nodded quickly.
Within seconds, the room that had been so loud was emptying.
No music.
No laughter.
Just consequences.
Tyson lingered near the door.
“You’re really doing this?” he asked me.
“I already did,” I replied.
He looked at Shelby.
“You’re choosing her over me?”
Shelby didn’t hesitate.
“I’m choosing what’s real.”
That was the end of it.
He left.
And this time, he didn’t slam the door.
The days that followed weren’t easy.
Eviction papers turned into legal steps.
Locks were changed.
Accounts were reviewed.
Truths were uncovered, one by one, like dust shaken loose after years of settling.
Shelby stayed.
But things were different.
Quieter.
More honest.
One evening, about two weeks later, she came into my workshop.
