The Trip She Wasn’t Supposed to Take
Zena Monica was supposed to be spending the night in another city.
A little after three that afternoon, she was still sitting in the airport departure lounge, answering work emails while she waited for the boarding announcement. Rain had been falling since noon, bleaching the tarmac silver. Several flights had already been delayed, and people around her were starting to make irritated calls to rearrange their plans.
Zena was not particularly bothered. Years of traveling for work had taught her to expect delays, rebookings, and last-minute cancellations.
What finally made her frown was the message that arrived at 4:27 p.m.: her flight had been officially canceled. The client had also postponed the three-day site meeting until the following week because of the weather.
After confirming the new arrangements with her office, she packed her laptop away and realized she suddenly had an entire evening free.
Almost automatically, she opened her chat with Kalyn.
When she had left the apartment that morning, he had still been asleep. They had both gone to bed late, and she had deliberately moved quietly while getting ready so she would not wake him. At the airport, she had texted that she was about to board. Nearly an hour later, Kalyn had finally replied that he would probably be working late and told her to get some rest once she reached the hotel.
Zena had answered, When are you not working late lately?
Kalyn had sent back a helpless-looking emoji and promised to take her somewhere once things calmed down.
Looking at that message now, Zena found it almost funny.
She started to type that her flight had been canceled, then stopped. There was no point. She would be home in a little over an hour. If Kalyn really was still at the office, she could have dinner by herself. If he happened to come home early, then maybe for once they would get an evening together without either of them rushing anywhere.
Before leaving the airport, she even bought a cheesecake from the place he liked.
By the time the taxi reached their apartment building, it was almost seven. The rain had eased, but water still pooled across the pavement. When Zena stepped out with her suitcase, one of her shoes immediately got soaked.
She looked down at it and sighed.
Nothing had gone right since morning.
The doorman held the entrance open for her and looked surprised to see her.
“Miss Monica? I thought you were away on business.”
“Canceled.”
“That makes sense. The weather’s been awful tonight.”
Zena smiled and started toward the elevators, but the doorman seemed to remember something.
“Oh, right. Mr. Armitage came back around four this afternoon.”
Her steps slowed.
“Kalyn’s home?”
“Mm. Around four.”
It was odd, but not odd enough to worry her. Kalyn had been bringing work home a lot lately. Sometimes he came back during the afternoon for files; sometimes he spent the rest of the day taking meetings from the study.
Zena nodded, dragged her suitcase into the elevator, and rode up to the seventeenth floor.
The hallway was quiet.
She unlocked the apartment with her fingerprint. The lights were on inside, and there was a faint trace of perfume in the air.
Zena bent to change her shoes and saw the stilettos beside the entryway.
They were not hers.
Thin heels. Black patent leather. A pale handbag sat on the floor beside them.
Her movements slowed.
Her first thought was that Kalyn’s sister had come over.
She dismissed it almost immediately. His sister never wore shoes like those, and she would never leave her bag carelessly on the floor.
Zena straightened and stared at the heels. They looked familiar, though she could not place where she had seen them.
The living room was empty. Two wineglasses sat on the coffee table. One still held half a glass of red wine; the other was beside the place where Kalyn usually sat. The television was on with the volume low, and a blanket had slipped halfway off the sofa onto the floor.
Still holding the handle of her suitcase, Zena looked from the glasses to the hallway.
A woman’s voice came from the bedroom.
For a moment, her mind actually offered up coworker as an explanation.
Then she heard a soft laugh.
Zena let go of the suitcase and walked straight toward the bedroom.
The door was not fully closed.
Neither person inside noticed her standing there.
Kalyn had his back to the door. A towel was wrapped around his waist while he searched for something in the closet. The bed was a wreck, one of the pillows on the floor. A woman sat on the edge of the mattress with wet hair.
Rhea Dalton.
Marketing manager at Kalyn’s company.
Three months earlier, she had sat across from Zena at dinner, complimented the diffuser in their living room, and even helped clear the table afterward.
Now she was sitting on Zena’s bed wearing Zena’s robe.
For a moment, Zena said nothing.
Rhea saw her first. The smile vanished from her face.
Kalyn noticed the change, turned around, and froze.
“Zena?”
She looked at him.
Kalyn took half a step toward her. Panic appeared on his face almost instantly.
“Weren’t you supposed to be gone tonight-”
Zena cut him off.
“Rhea.”
Her voice was strangely calm.
Rhea was already on her feet. She tugged at the robe, wearing an expression that was somehow both embarrassed and wounded.
“Zena—I thought you weren’t coming back tonight.”
Zena stared at her for a few seconds and did not answer.
Kalyn jumped in. “Zena, just listen to me.”
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
She still was not looking at him. Her eyes stayed on Rhea.
The pale-gray silk robe had been a birthday present Zena bought for herself last year. Rhea had apparently showered. She was wearing nothing underneath it; the belt sat loose around her waist, exposing her shoulders and collarbones.
Rhea glanced down at herself, as if only now remembering whose robe it was.
“My dress got wet,” she said, adjusting the collar. “Kalyn said I could put on one of yours for a minute. That’s all.”
Zena let out one short laugh with no humor in it.
“Mine?”
Rhea looked confused.
Zena pointed at the robe.
“You know that’s mine, right?”
“...Yes.”
“And you put it on anyway?”
Rhea’s expression turned uncertain.
“Zena, it’s just a robe. There’s no need to-”
“Take it off.”
The room went silent.
Rhea stared at her.
Kalyn frowned. “Zena.”
She looked at him.
Just once.
Whatever he had been about to say died there.
Zena turned back to Rhea.
“Rhea. Take it off.”
Rhea bit her lip and looked down at herself without moving.
“I’m not wearing anything underneath.”
“Then figure it out.”
Rhea’s face finally hardened. She stood there looking at Zena for a moment, then turned and walked into the dressing room.
Zena followed her with her eyes.
Rhea did not look for her own clothes.
She opened the doors on Zena’s side of the closet.
The last trace of expression left Zena’s face.
“What are you looking through now?”
Rhea turned around.
“My dress is soaked. You don’t expect me to leave wrapped in a towel, do you?”
She said it as though it were obvious, almost innocently.
Then she took a white knit top from Zena’s closet and pulled out a long, light-brown skirt.
Zena knew the outfit. She had worn it once, less than a month ago.
Even Kalyn finally seemed to realize how badly this was going.
“Rhea, don’t take hers. Wear your own clothes.”
Rhea looked at him, and somehow sounded hurt.
“How am I supposed to wear mine right now? You were the one who told me to find something.”
Zena did not look at Kalyn.
Rhea had not searched through the closet at all. The moment she opened it, her hand had gone directly to Zena’s side. She knew exactly where the top and skirt were kept.
Something tightened painfully in Zena’s chest, but nothing showed on her face.
Rhea disappeared into the bathroom with the clothes. The door did not fully close.
A few minutes later, she came out dressed in Zena’s top and skirt. The fit was slightly wrong, but she wore them without the slightest awkwardness.
Then she walked to Zena’s vanity, picked up Zena’s hairbrush, and began combing her hair.
Zena watched her.
“Borrowing the brush too?”
Rhea paused and put it back.
“...It was right there.”
She said it too naturally, as if the entire vanity had always been available for her to use.
A cold wave went through Zena’s stomach.
Kalyn stepped closer.
“Zena, give me two minutes. Rhea came over today because-”
Zena raised a hand and stopped him.
“If you genuinely think two minutes can explain her out of my bed, my shower, and my closet, save it and tell yourself the story later.”
“We’ve been together four years. You won’t even hear one sentence?”
“Exactly because it’s been four years, I don’t need you explaining what I saw with my own eyes.”
Kalyn went pale.
“I know I fucked up.”
“Finally. One true sentence.”
“Zena-”
“Don’t call me that.”
Her voice was not loud, but the entire room went quiet.
Rhea picked up her handbag and glanced between them, apparently deciding at last that she should leave.
“I’ll go.”
Then she looked at Kalyn.
“You two should talk. Me staying here is only making this uglier.”
For a second, Zena thought she had misheard.
She stared at Rhea.
“You staying is what makes it ugly?”
Rhea pressed her lips together.
“I know you hate me right now. But seven months didn’t happen because of me alone. Whatever was wrong between you and Kalyn started long before today.”
Zena held her gaze and lost the last of her patience.
“You’re wearing my clothes, standing in my home, and telling me not to put this on you?”
Rhea’s expression stiffened.
“You’re not willing to hear anything right now.”
“Correct. Get out.”
Kalyn frowned. “Zena, enough.”
“You shut up too.”
Rhea’s composure finally cracked. She tightened her grip on the bag, her own voice cooling.
“Ask him when you’re ready to listen.”
Zena did not answer. She simply looked at her.
Rhea did not stay.
She walked out of the bedroom, put on her stilettos, and actually left the apartment wearing Zena’s clothes.
The door did not slam.
Zena heard it close anyway.
She stood in the bedroom staring at the now-empty doorway for a long time before finally turning around.
Kalyn was behind her.
“Zena, don’t leave. Four years. At least let me finish what I have to say.”
She finally looked at him.
“Stop using four years to block the door. Those four years existed while you were doing this too.”
Kalyn’s expression changed.
“I’m not saying none of it counted. I just-”
“Right now, the last thing you get to do is calculate for me what counts and what doesn’t.”
Zena was already done listening.
She walked into the dressing room and pulled a travel bag down from the top shelf.
Kalyn followed.
“Where are you going?”
“Somewhere away from you.”
“What is walking out like this supposed to solve?”
She started packing.
Fast, but not carelessly. A few changes of clothes. Underwear. Toiletries. Laptop. Passport. Chargers. She even remembered to pull her work documents out and put them into a separate bag.
Kalyn stood there watching her pack item after item. That was when he finally looked genuinely afraid.
“Zena, can you stop for one second?”
She ignored him.
“I was wrong, okay? I admit it.”
She kept packing.
“Zena.”
She zipped the bag shut.
Kalyn reached for it.
Zena looked up.
“Take your hand off.”
He froze.
“At least tell me where you’re staying tonight.”
“None of your business.”
“You don’t even know where you’re going and you’re just leaving alone?”
Zena looked at him for a long moment, then picked up her bag.
“I’ll find a door.”
Kalyn moved in front of it.
“I don’t agree with you leaving like this.”
Zena stared at him.
“Since when have you needed my agreement?”
His face went rigid.
She walked around him.
As she passed the bedroom, she saw the robe Rhea had taken off still lying on the floor.
Zena stopped for a second.
She did not pick it up.
She did not want it anymore.
Near the entryway, Rhea’s own wet dress was still crumpled in a corner. Zena looked down at it and suddenly laughed once.
Rhea had not even taken her own dress with her.
Zena opened the front door.
Kalyn followed her out.
“Zena.”
She did not turn around.
“I’ll find you tomorrow.”
“Don’t.”
“This isn’t over.”
“Then continue it with Rhea.”
Those were the last words she said before leaving.
Only after the elevator doors closed did Zena realize her hands were shaking.
She stared at herself in the mirrored wall. Her face was pale, but her eyes were dry. She had not even cried yet.
The ache in her chest followed her all the way to the hotel.
At eleven that night, she sat on the edge of the bed staring at more than a dozen missed calls from Kalyn when the tears came without warning.
Once they started, they would not stop.
It was not graceful. Her nose turned red, her eyes swelled, and her breathing broke apart between sobs. She put her phone on silent, curled up at the edge of the bed, and replayed four years of her life over and over.
Details began returning one by one.
The nights Kalyn had said work was too busy. The way he started taking his phone into the shower. The first time Rhea came to dinner and somehow already knew where they kept the wineglasses.
The more Zena looked back, the less she knew how much she had missed.
She cried until after two in the morning, until there were no tears left.
Then she lay on the bed staring at the ceiling and picked up her phone.
She had twelve days of annual leave left.
For two years, she had been reluctant to use too much at once because Kalyn kept saying they would travel together when he finally had time.
Apparently, she did not need to wait anymore.
Zena opened a travel app and started scrolling.
She did not have anywhere in particular she wanted to go. She only wanted somewhere farther away, somewhere quiet, somewhere no one knew her.
Eventually, she stopped on a small coastal town.
Aurelia Coast.
A two-hour flight away.
The hotel sat on a cliff overlooking the sea. Reviews kept mentioning how peaceful it was. A few people had actually complained that it was too quiet at night and that there was nothing nearby.
Zena read one of those complaints and booked ten nights.
The next afternoon, she arrived at Aurelia Coast.
The sea wind was much stronger than it looked in the photos. The moment Zena stepped out of the hotel shuttle, her hair blew across her face. She had not bothered with makeup. Sunglasses hid eyes that were still slightly swollen from crying the night before.
The lobby was quiet. At check-in, the receptionist told her the room needed another ten minutes.
Zena did not care. She left her luggage with the desk and went alone to the ocean-view terrace behind the hotel.
She had barely sat down when a server brought over a menu.
“What can I get you?”
Zena flipped through two pages without really reading them.
“Gin. Straight.”
The server paused. “No tonic?”
“No.”
Another hesitation.
“Just gin?”
“Just gin.”
Someone a few tables away gave a low laugh.
Zena turned.
A man sat beyond an empty table with coffee and several documents in front of him. His white shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows. Dark trousers. A simple watch at his wrist. He looked around forty, with deep-brown hair and the first traces of gray at his temples.
Zena stared at him.
He noticed and looked up.
“Sorry.”
“Were you laughing at me?”
“You heard that?”
“So yes.”
He glanced at the glass that had just been placed in front of her.
“Straight gin at four-thirty in the afternoon. Either you’ve had a very interesting day or a terrible one.”
Zena took a sip.
The liquor burned down her throat. She nearly coughed and stubbornly refused to.
“Do you always analyze strangers based on their drinks?”
“Not usually.”
“So I’m especially unlucky today?”
The man considered it.
“You sat down. I happened to look up a few times.”
Zena eyed his coffee.
“That coffee doesn’t look like it’s saving you either.”
He glanced into his cup.
“It keeps me working.”
“Then you win.”
His smile became more obvious.
Zena’s mouth curved despite herself.
He did not ask why she was drinking alone. He did not ask what had happened.
They simply sat a table apart, each minding their own business.
A while later, a hotel employee came to tell Zena that her room was ready.
She stood and looked over at the man before leaving.
“Hope that pile of work has an ending.”
He looked up.
“And I hope the gin works.”
Zena smiled.
“It better.”
She walked away.
By the time she reached the lobby, she still had not asked his name.
She liked it that way.
The last thing she wanted right now was to start getting to know another man.
Back on the terrace, Evander Armitage lowered his eyes to his documents again.
His phone vibrated.
A name appeared on the screen.
Kalyn.
Evander watched it for a few seconds, then answered.
“Yeah?”
There was a pause on the other end.
Then his son’s irritated voice came through.
“Dad. I screwed up.”
This book doesn't have an ending on this app even though it shows as complete. Please don't waste your time
too late for me. Nowhere it says the end is in Amazon.