Just a week after Jacob moved in, I stood frozen outside my home, staring at his message: “We need to talk.” The same words. The same timing. Another man slipping away.
But this time, I was done wondering why—they always left exactly seven days in.
I stood by the front steps, my boots tapping the concrete like a nervous heartbeat.
It was Saturday, but it didn’t feel like one.
The sky hung low and heavy, a dull Iowa gray that pressed down like a wet blanket. The air smelled like dirt and cold metal.
My fingers wrapped around a coffee cup, though the coffee had long gone cold.
I wasn’t drinking it anymore. My hands shook, and I couldn’t stop them.
For illustration purposes only.
| Source: Sora
Cindy stood beside me, close like she always was when things felt like they were about to fall apart.
Her hand rested on my shoulder, warm and steady.
“You’re shakin’ like a tree in a windstorm,” she said, her voice soft, almost like a song.
“It’s just Jacob. He loves you.”
I nodded, but didn’t say anything. My throat felt tight, like it had closed up and tossed away the key.
I was breathing, but barely.
Like my lungs didn’t want to make a scene.
For illustration purposes only.
| Source: Midjourney
Then, finally, his car pulled into the driveway. The tires crunched the gravel like they had a job to do.
Jacob stepped out, tall and full of light, smiling like a man who’d just won something worth keeping.
He waved, and it looked like something out of a Hallmark movie.
Him, me, the little white house behind us—it could’ve been perfect.
I waved back, stiff and awkward. Like I wasn’t sure I deserved the moment.
My hands were clasped together, knuckles white, hiding the tremble I couldn’t control.
For illustration purposes only.
| Source: Sora
“Hey, babe,” Jacob said as he came up the steps, arms wide. “We did it! Moving in—finally.”
“I know,” I replied, trying to smile, though my face felt frozen.
“Sorry I’m a little… off.”
He pulled me into a hug.
It was warm. Safe.
“You’re fine. We’re fine.” He kissed my temple gently and went straight for the boxes like this was the most natural thing in the world.
But I wasn’t fine.
Not one bit.
Jacob wasn’t the first man to cross this threshold.
Two others had come before. They’d moved in, smiled, unpacked.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Sora
And then, exactly one week later, they were gone.
No fights.
No warnings. Just gone like wind through cornfields.
As we carried boxes through the front door, I glanced at Cindy.
“This is my sister,” I told Jacob when we reached the kitchen.
“She’s stayin’ with me till she finds work.”
He smiled and nodded. “Nice to meet you.
No worries—family’s family.”
For illustration purposes only.
| Source: Midjourney
That night, Jacob made dinner. Grilled pork chops, rosemary potatoes, roasted carrots.
The house smelled like Sunday dinner at Grandma’s. Cindy couldn’t stop talking about how good it all was.
She was all smiles and sparkle eyes.
But in my belly, something curled up tight.
Hope? Fear?
Maybe both.
One week later. Like clockwork.
For illustration purposes only.
| Source: Sora
I sat in my car just outside the house, the engine off, but everything inside me still running.
My heart was stuck high in my throat like it didn’t know where else to go.
On the seat next to me, my phone screen glowed with the message that refused to disappear:
“We need to talk. Seriously.”
My hands gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
The windows had fogged a little. I could see the porch, the door, the wind moving through the bare trees like whispers I couldn’t hear.
For illustration purposes only.
| Source: Sora
I didn’t move.
For a while, I just stared.
Eventually, I opened the door and stepped into the cold.
The wind had turned sharp, biting at my cheeks, tugging at my coat like it wanted me to turn around.
And there it was. Jacob’s suitcase.
Two cardboard boxes stacked beside it.
My mouth went dry. My legs felt too heavy for my body.
Jacob stood there, hands in his jacket pockets, looking like a kid caught stealing candy.
“Liz—”
For illustration purposes only.
| Source: Midjourney
I raised my hand before he could say more.
“No,” I said, sharp and quick.
“Let me guess. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Or maybe the classic ‘I’m not ready for this.’ I’ve heard all the damn poetry before, Jacob.”
His face tightened, lips pressing into a line. “You don’t understand—”
“Then help me!” I stepped closer.
My voice cracked a little.
“Why does this always happen exactly one week after they move in?
Do I snore like a freight train? Am I too clingy?
Is it my face without makeup? Do I make the world’s worst eggs?”
For illustration purposes only.
| Source: Midjourney
He looked down at the porch like the answers were written in the wood.
“Liz… your sis—” He paused, shook his head.
“Forget it.”
Then he picked up a box and walked to his truck.
I didn’t chase him.
That night, I sank into the old couch, the one that still smelled like lavender and popcorn. My tears soaked into the cushion.
Cindy sat beside me, stroking my hair.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Sora
“Don’t chase ghosts, Liz,” she whispered.
“Men are like rivers.
They run wild, and then they dry up.”
But her words didn’t stick. Because deep down, I knew Jacob had tried to say something.
Something important. Something about Cindy
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