Tethered

Maya sat on the edge of the bathtub, her iPhone clutched in wet hands, watching the screen flicker through its final breaths. She'd dropped it in the water when his text came through—*I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore*—and now it was just another thing she couldn't save.

The cat, Barnaby, wound through her legs, purring with devastating indifference. He was Marcus's cat, really, though he'd conveniently forgotten that detail when he moved out three weeks ago. Maya had never wanted a pet, had never wanted the commitment, the responsibility, the way a small living thing could anchor you to a life you weren't sure you wanted anymore.

She reached for the charging cable, its white plastic casing fraying at the ends like everything else between them. They'd bought matching ones when they moved in together, optimistic and foolish, as if charging cables could be romantic. As if anything could.

"You're better off," her sister had said over drinks last night, sliding her another gin and tonic. "He was never going to choose you. Not really. Not when it mattered."

Maya had nodded, swallowing the truth that felt like glass: that Marcus had chosen, just not her. He'd chosen clarity over complication, his career over their relationship, himself over the possibility of something messy and real and difficult.

The phone screen went black completely. No more waiting. No more checking. No more watching three dots appear and disappear like a morse code of hesitation.

Barnaby jumped onto the counter and knocked the cable onto the tile floor. It bounced with a hollow sound, and Maya laughed—a short, sharp exhale that surprised her. She laughed until she cried, until her mascara ran and her chest ached, until the absurdity of it all became clear: she was twenty-nine years old, mourning a man who couldn't commit, drowning an expensive piece of technology, and owned by a cat who'd never liked her anyway.

"Well," she whispered to the empty bathroom, to the silent phone, to the judgment of a cat who'd seen everything and said nothing. "Well."

She stood up, dried her hands, and left the iPhone in a bowl of rice on the counter. Whatever came next would have to find her some other way.