Fever Broke and So Did We

After a brutal day at work, I dragged my exhausted, soaking-wet body home through a torrential downpour. My fever had spiked to 102, leaving me too weak to even think about making dinner.

Mason, who had told me hed be out late at a business dinner, suddenly rushed through the front door.

He rummaged through the medicine cabinet, pulled out the Tylenol, and without even looking up at me, said, "Sadie caught a cold in the rain today. Make her some warm chicken broth. Im heading over to drop off the medicine, and Ill take the soup to her."

Right then, my phone buzzed. A viral post on my feed caught my eye: At what exact moment did you realize they didnt love you anymore?

I glanced at Masons hurried back, then typed a reply in the comments:

Right now. But luckily, I don't love him anymore either.

My comment instantly drew a flurry of replies. Everyone was asking why.

Mason didn't notice how flushed my face was, or how miserably I was shivering on the sofa. He went into the bedroom, grabbed a fresh change of clothes, and called out, "She can't take care of herself when she's sick. I won't be back tonight."

"Once you finish the broth, make sure to lock the windows and doors. Get some rest."

My fever-addled brain felt like a crashed, obsolete computer, taking several seconds to process his words.

"I don't feel well," I croaked. "If you want something for her, make it yourself."

Each breath felt like fire scraping against my lungs. I was burning up, but I forced my eyes open, trying to find the strength to stand, find my own medicine, and go to bed.

Mason turned, giving me a cold, dismissive look.

"Sadies sick, and now suddenly you're sick too?" he scoffed. "Norah, you really will say anything to get my attention, won't you?"

That morning, Id had a critical client presentation. I hadnt had time to clear the kitchen and had asked him to help out. Hed sat at the dining table, barely glancing at me, and said with cool indifference, "You know I hate being in the kitchen. Just because we have nothing in common lately, you don't need to pick fights to get my attention."

Id stood there, stunned for a few seconds, but with no time to argue, Id rushed out the door.

Id assumed that no matter how annoyed he was, hed at least handle that small chore.

But when I walked in tonight, those same dirty dishes were still sitting in the sink, soaking in greasy water. The laundry basket was overflowing, untouched. Even the bag of trash Id forgotten to take out in my rush was still sitting quietly in the corner of the entryway.

Normally, I would have lost my temper. We would have had a screaming match.

But tonight, I didn't have the strength. And honestly, I no longer cared enough to try.

"Norah, why are you sitting there acting so brooding?" Mason grumbled, his irritation mounting. "You come home and you can't even clean up the place? Go look at other people's girlfriends. Who else is as lazy as you? Asking you to make a simple broth is like asking for your kidney."

His words felt like a serrated blade slicing into the deepest, most vulnerable part of my chest. It physically hurt to breathe.

"Mason, I told you, I'm actually"

Before I could finish, his phone rang. He didn't look at me again. He turned his back to me to answer it, and Sadie's bright, slightly congested voice echoed into the room.

"Hey, Boss! I finally picked out the car I want. The dealer said if I'm serious, I can pick it up tomorrow... cough, cough..."

"I get it. Stop talking," Masons voice softened instantly, thick with concern. "Don't worry about anything while you're sick. Just tell my assistant which model you want, and I'll have him handle the paperwork."

He grabbed the entire first-aid kit from the shelf, not even bothering to look inside for what he actually needed, and headed for the door.

"Mason..."

My throat was so dry, so raw. Every word felt like glass tearing at my vocal cords, and hot tears spilled over my cheeks. "Leave... leave me some medicine."

He paused at the door, his hand on the knob.

"Norah, stop acting out," he said without turning around. "Sadie has a hundred and point four fever. If she doesn't get medicine right now, it could turn into something serious. You can't take responsibility for that."

The door clicked shut behind him.

He left, completely unaware of the comment I had just posted under that viral thread:

Because when I came home soaking wet, burning up with a 102-degree fever, he took all his warmth and all the medicine to go care for another woman.

In that single second, I realized that loving or not loving... it doesn't even matter anymore.

Outside, the storm raged on, wind howling against the windowpanes. Every local pharmacy and convenience store had closed early due to the severe weather. With no way to buy medicine, I could only manage a quick wash before collapsing onto the bed.

But the fever burned in my bones, making sleep impossible. In my misery, I unlocked my phone and stared at the replies to my comment.

A user had replied: Oh sweetie, why did you walk home in the rain? Why didn't you ask your boyfriend to pick you up? Or call an Uber?

When the storm had hit that afternoon, Id called Mason repeatedly. Hed ignored every call. It wasn't until right before clock-out that he sent a brief text: I'm tied up with something. Can't make it. Figure out your own way home.

Because of the flash flood warnings, rideshare prices had skyrocketed, and no drivers were accepting trips. Desperate, Id had to unlock a city bike and ride home through the stinging rain, just like many of my stranded coworkers.

Before I could type out a response, another user replied to her comment:

Never rely on anyone but yourself, OP. If you have the means, buy your own car. A car is a girls ultimate shield. With your own set of wheels, you never have to wait on anyone else.

Then, she attached a screenshot of a lifestyle influencer's post.

This is a lifestyle blogger I follow. She got caught in the rain today and caught a cold, so her boyfriend bought her a brand-new car on the spot. He said he never wants her to have to look out the window in a storm and envy the people sitting dry inside a car.

Looking at the screenshot, my freezing fingertips began to tremble.

The "lifestyle blogger" was Sadie ThompsonMasons executive assistant.

Driven by some masochistic curiosity, I opened her TikTok account.

Sadie had been documenting her daily life since she started at Mason's company last fall. In almost every video, there was a familiar, towering silhouette.

At first, Mason only showed his handshis well-manicured, long fingers, or his deep, resonant voice narrating in the background. It was enough to gain her thousands of followers.

The comments were filled with fans shipping them.

One comment read: Your boss is so incredibly sweet to you! Asking for a friend... when do we get to hear wedding bells?

Sadie had liked the comment and replied with just two words: Take a guess.

She never clarified her relationship with Mason, letting the internet play matchmaker.

I scrolled down, my eyes stopping on the video shed uploaded just today.

It showed Mason sitting on an unfamiliar, plush sofa, leaning over a bowl of hot soup, gently blowing on it to cool it down for her.

She giggled behind the camera, asking, "Hey, Boss, can I ask you a quick question?"

"Why do you think every girl needs her own car?"

In the video, his eyes were incredibly soft, looking at her with a tender, focused devotion.

"Because a car represents a womans independence," he said. "Once you have your own car, you can go wherever you want, whenever you want. Youll never be tied down by anyone or anything, and youll never have to look at someone else driving by in the rain and wish you were in their passenger seat."

My mind drifted back to last year, during a similar storm.

When Mason picked me up from work, Id casually mentioned, "Maybe I should buy a car? That way, you won't have to take such a long detour to get me."

Hed shaken his head, smiling warmly.

"If you have your own car, how am I supposed to play the doting boyfriend?" hed said. "Don't overthink it. Picking you up is never a chore. Id gladly drive out of my way for you for the rest of my life."

Yet, just last month, when I was running late and asked him for a quick ride to the office, hed frowned, his tone lecturing and cold:

"You're an adult, Norah, not a schoolchild. Having your boyfriend drive you to work every single daydon't you think that's a bit embarrassing?"

I returned to the comment section on my phone.

I typed a short reply: You're entirely right. Its time I started relying on myself.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe that was the exact moment my feelings for Mason died completely. I turned off my phone and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When I finally drifted awake, the first thing I heard was the sharp, panicked voice of my best friend, Fiona.

"Norah, are you out of your mind? You have a massive fever and you didn't take anything? Why didn't you call me?"

Her voice shook, a mix of fury and pure, raw terror. "If I hadn't decided to swing by and check on you, you would've ended up in the ICU with pneumonia!"

"I'm sorry..." I whispered, feeling terrible for worrying her. But my voice was so raspy it sounded like dry leaves scraping across concrete.

"Save your breath, your throat is raw," Fiona snapped, though she gently placed a cool cloth on my forehead.

Then she began pacing, muttering under her breath. "And where the hell is Mason? I called him five times and he didn't even pick up. He used to lose his mind if you so much as sneezed. Now he's a ghost?"

I closed my eyes, remembering our junior year of college.

Id spiked a sudden, terrifying fever in the middle of the night. When Fiona found me, it was 3:00 AM. She couldn't get me to the clinic alone, so she called Mason.

It was the coldest night of the year. Mason had sprinted down the empty, frozen streets with me slung over his back, his voice shaking and raw with tears.

"Norah, please stay with me. I'm getting you to the hospital. Just hold on, baby, please, we're almost there."

By the time we reached the emergency room, he was drenched in sweat, tears streaming down his face, his eyes wide with terror.

When I woke up, the nurse had smiled gently. "You've got a good one, sweetie. He loves you to pieces. Make sure you hold onto him."

Id looked through the glass. Mason was slumped in a hard plastic chair in the hallway, his clothes disheveled, fast asleep.

"He was terrified his snoring would wake you up," the nurse added. "No matter how much I told him to sleep in the extra chair in here, he refused. He insisted on staying out there."

Back then, his love was loud, proud, and undeniable.

I had thought, in my naive twenty-year-old heart, that I would marry him.

I never could have imagined that love could be as fleeting as a firework.

Five years. That was all it lasted.

I stayed in the hospital for two days. Mason didn't call once.

I didn't care.

On the day I was discharged, I looked at Fiona. "Are you free today? I want to go look at cars."

Fiona stared at me, dumbfounded. "But Mason drives you everywhere. Why do you need a car?"

I swallowed hard, then told her everything that had happened over the last few daysincluding how hed taken my medicine to give to Sadie.

Fionas face went red with fury. "Are you kidding me? What an absolute scumbag! He's basically stepping out on you, and he left you burning up with a fever to play hero to another woman? I hope he rots! Break up with him. Right now!"

Breaking up was a given. Id just been too physically exhausted to handle the logistics.

I nodded, pulled out my phone, and sent him a simple, direct breakup text.

"Now," I said, looking up at Fiona. "Will you come car shopping with me?"

I didn't just need a car. I needed a new place to live. Now that we were over, I couldn't spend another night in his apartment.

I wasn't picky about the car or the apartment. I signed the paperwork for a compact SUV and found a fully furnished loft that was ready for immediate move-in.

Once the lease was signed, I treated Fiona to dinner, and then went back to Masons apartment to pack my bags.

Fiona insisted on waiting in the car downstairs, just in case.

I didn't expect anyone to be home. But when I unlocked the door, I saw Mason sitting on the sofa, his expression dark and stormy.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, his voice tight. "You haven't been home in two days!"

His reaction actually surprised me. I hadn't realized he still cared whether I came home or not.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off.

"Why did you leave the sink full of dirty dishes before you left?" he snapped. "The laundry is overflowing, and you didn't even bother to take out the trash. It's practically rotting in the hallway."

"Just because you don't own this place doesn't mean you can treat it like a dumpster."

I stared at him, listening to his furious accusations, a bitter numbness spreading through my chest.

From the very first day Id moved in, I had quietly taken on the role of keeping this house running. I cooked, I cleaned, I did the laundry. I was even the one who made sure the utility bills were paid on time.

How could he stand there and act like Id done nothing? How could he be so utterly blind to everything Id contributed?

I looked at him, a cold, self-deprecating smile touching my lips.

"Mason, am I your maid?"

"When you begged me to move in, you promised I wouldn't have to lift a finger. You said youd take care of all the housework."

"But the reality is, I've done everything. What exactly have you done?"

Hed said he hated the smell of grease, so I never asked him to step foot in the kitchen. Hed said he was too exhausted from work, so I never asked him to sweep a floor. I handled it all, believing that he appreciated my quiet efforts.

Instead, he just looked at me with deep annoyance.

"Sadie manages to keep her place absolutely spotless, and she never complains," he muttered defensively.

"Norah, why can't you be more like her? Just grow up a little. Stop whining about every little chore. Honestly, with this attitude, who would even want to marry you?"

Wed been together for five years. Our friends had asked us countless times when we were finally going to tie the knot.

Every time they did, I would look at him, waiting, hoping. I wanted the proposal. I wanted to see myself in his future.

But he would always brush it off with a casual smile.

"No rush. Let's wait a bit."

Six simple words to easily dodge the question.

The memory made my chest ache, but I managed a quiet laugh. "Mason, we broke up. Whatever happens to me in the future is none of your business."

"I came back today to get my bags, not to listen to your lectures."

Masons face shifted through a dozen emotions, settling on a look of sheer disbelief.

"Norah, are you actually serious?"

"Do you even know"

Before he could finish, there was a light knock on the door.

The lock clicked, and Sadie walked in, using her own spare key.

"Mason! Are you ready to coach me?" she asked brightly. "I want to practice driving before the evening rush hour hits."

Then, she noticed me standing there. Her cheerful expression faltered, replaced by a delicate, fragile look of concern.

"Oh, hi, Norah. You're back. I... I didn't mean to intrude. I can just go practice on my own..."

"Wait," Mason cut in, his protective instincts immediately flaring. "I don't want you driving alone. I'll come with you."

He turned back to me, his jaw tight. "Norah, think about this carefully. If you walk out that door today, don't expect me to beg you to come back."

"And don't expect me to forgive you or try to patch things up."

He turned on his heel and walked out. A small, victorious smile played at the corners of Sadies mouth.

"We'll be on our way then, Norah..." she said softly. "Oh, by the way, I left some organic peaches in the fridge. They're incredibly sweet. Help yourself!"

Her tone was so warm, so natural, as if she were the lady of the house welcoming a houseguest.

I didn't say a word.

Once the door closed behind them, I went into the bedroom and finished packing my bags.

Later that evening, when Mason finally returned, the building's property manager stopped him in the lobby.

"Oh, Mr. Gallagher. Your girlfriend, Norah, removed herself from the building's community portal today. She said any future maintenance issues should go through you. Could you re-join the thread so we can keep in touch?"

Mason froze, the words sinking in like lead. "Why would she leave the portal?"

The manager looked at him, completely baffled. "Well... she said you two broke up. Since she doesn't live here anymore, there was no reason for her to stay in the group."