I did not answer. I remembered the nights I had listened to her worries about work and reassured her before presentations. I remembered holding her when she cried after an argument with her parents. Those memories were real, but they did not create an obligation to resume the role of emotional support after she had ended our relationship so carelessly.
Over the following days the texts continued. "I feel so stupid." Then, "I should have listened to you about some things." Then, eventually, "I'm sorry, Alex. About everything." I read them once and left them unanswered, because a few sentences on a screen did not tell me whether she understood what she had done or merely disliked where her choices had led.
Part of me wanted to send a long reply. I could have described the canceled wedding deposits, the sleepless nights, the empty bedroom, and the humiliating knowledge that I had been planning a future while she was building a secret one. I could have quoted her words back to her and asked whether she still considered the affair necessary. I typed fragments of those thoughts into a private note, then saved it without sending anything.
I knew that answering would give her another conversation to steer. For five years I had tried to be reasonable whenever she was upset, and in the final months she had learned to frame my reasonable questions as evidence that something was wrong with me. I did not trust myself to enter that dynamic again while her situation was still unfolding. Silence was the boundary I could maintain without having to argue over its legitimacy.
Her next message was different. "Are you seriously just going to ignore me? I'm going through a lot right now. I thought you'd at least be a decent person."
I felt anger rise so quickly that I put the phone down before I could reply. The phrase decent person had been used against me before, when I asked whether the honeymoon should depend on Liam's opinion, and now it had returned as a demand that I make myself available again. I went for a walk and let the anger burn off against the cold evening air. By the time I returned, I no longer wanted to respond.
Another message followed that weekend. "I know you're reading these. This is really low of you. I just want to talk things through."
I thought about what talking things through would mean. We had already settled the apartment, the wedding, and our shared finances. I had made no allegations about her legal case and had not spoken to the press. The only thing left to discuss was her wish to have me back in a role she had rejected, and that was not a problem we shared.
I muted the number. A few days later, she used a second number, and I muted that one as well. I did not send insults or threats, and I did not post screenshots online. I just stopped opening the door she kept trying to push through.