I told Dad Fabian was out drinking with friends and wouldn’t be back for hours. That’s when Dad’s demeanor changed. He straightened up in his chair and asked if I had my laptop. I grabbed it from the couch where I’d left it open with my what to do list. He glanced at it and actually smiled a little. Turns out we’d been thinking along the same lines.
We spent the next two hours making a plan. Concrete steps, not just angry reactions. Dad was methodical, making his own list in the notes app on his phone. It was weird. I expected rage, but instead got this calm, focused problem solving that was somehow more intense than any shouting would have been.
First on the list: the apartment. Dad had co-signed the lease and was paying the rent. He called the property management company right there at my table. He explained he needed to terminate the current lease and sign a new one in just my name. The leasing agent tried to explain that there would be fees and paperwork, but Dad cut her off.
“I’ll pay whatever fees are necessary.”
“I need this done immediately.”
When she hesitated, he added that he could come to the office first thing tomorrow morning if that would help speed things up. Suddenly, she was much more accommodating.
Next, the car. Fabian had been driving my car that Dad was helping pay for. Dad made another call, this time to our insurance agent. He removed Fabian from my policy, effective immediately. Then he logged into his Progressive app and changed the payment information so it would come from my account instead of his. He’d still help me with the cost, he explained. But the account needed to be fully in my name.
While Dad worked on the financial stuff, Mom helped me make a list of everything in the apartment that belonged to Fabian. It wasn’t much. Some clothes, his gaming setup, toiletries. Most of the furniture and kitchen wear were mine or things we’d bought together with money from my parents.
I remembered something else. Fabian’s sister, Catalina, worked for my dad’s company. She’d been hired about six months ago, right after Fabian had casually mentioned to my dad that his sister was looking for a new opportunity. Dad had interviewed her as a favor to me and given her a position.
I hesitated to bring it up. It felt petty somehow, but Mom noticed me typing and deleting something on my laptop. When I finally told them about Catalina, Dad’s expression hardened. He picked up his phone again.
Dad didn’t fire her on the spot. He’s not that kind of person. But he did send an email to HR asking them to review Catalina’s position as part of an upcoming restructuring. He made it clear that while she shouldn’t be fired without cause, her position should be considered non-essential if cuts needed to be made. It sounds cold when I write it out like that, but tbh, Catalina had been riding on her connection to me and Dad. She was constantly late, took extra long lunches, and was mediocre at her job at best. The only reason she hadn’t been put on a performance plan already was because of Fabian.
Around midnight, we moved on to the last item: the confrontation. Dad wanted to call Fabian’s parents right then, but Mom suggested we wait until morning. I agreed. I was exhausted, and we all needed to be clear-headed for that conversation. Dad reluctantly agreed, but insisted on staying the night.
Mom went home to get them overnight bags while Dad helped me change the locks. Thankfully, our building has those electronic keypad locks, so all we had to do was reset the code through the apartment’s app. I felt a weight lift as we deleted Fabian’s access.
I slept on the couch that night, giving my parents the bedroom. I didn’t want to sleep in the bed Fabian and I had shared.
Around 3:00 a.m., my phone started blowing up with texts.
“Dark code isn’t working.”
“Ellaner, WTF, are you serious right now?”
“Let me in.”
“It’s freezing.”
“Ellaner, answer your phone.”
I put my phone on silent and turned it face down on the coffee table. For the first time in a week, I slept deeply.
In the morning, Dad made pancakes like it was just another Saturday. We ate at the kitchen table, checking our phones and making small talk about the weather. It felt surreal, like we were play acting at normaly.
Fabian had finally stopped texting around 5:00 a.m. My guess was he crashed at a friend’s place.
Around 10:00, Dad said it was time to call Fabian’s parents. I felt my stomach clench again. Mom squeezed my shoulder and reminded me that I hadn’t done anything wrong. I wasn’t the one who needed to feel ashamed.
Dad set up his phone for a FaceTime call. After three rings, Lydia’s face appeared on screen. She looked confused at first, then forced a bright smile when she recognized us. I could see Arthur in the background reading a newspaper. Lydia’s hello was cheerful until she saw our expressions. She called Arthur over, her smile faltering. He joined her on screen, frowning slightly.
Dad didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He simply asked if they wanted to hear something interesting, then played the recording.
Watching their faces change as they listened to their own voices was something else. Lydia’s hand flew to her mouth. Arthur’s frown deepened. Neither of them looked surprised by what Fabian was saying, only that they had been caught saying it.
When the recording ended, Lydia immediately started making excuses.
“It was just talk,” she insisted. “Fabian didn’t mean any of it. They were just joking around.”
Arthur tried to look stern and disappointed like he was also hearing this for the first time.
Dad let them ramble for about 30 seconds before he cut them off. He laid out exactly what was happening. Fabian was being removed from the apartment lease. His access to my car was revoked. All financial support was ending immediately. Catalina’s position at the company was under review.
Lydia’s face crumpled. She turned to me all teeyed, begging me to reconsider. Didn’t I know how much Fabian loved me? Weren’t we planning a future together? Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes.
I just stared back at her. The woman who had smiled to my face while laughing behind my back. Who had told her son not to get me pregnant because it would tie him to my family. Who had sat at my table and eaten my food while thinking I wasn’t good enough for her son.
Mom leaned into the frame. Then she told Lydia to close her mouth. No one was smiling now, she said. Goodbye. Dad ended the call before they could respond.
The three of us sat in silence for a moment. Then Dad’s phone buzzed with a text from Fabian. Where was I? Why couldn’t he get into the apartment? What the hell was going on?
Dad typed out a response, showed it to me for approval, then sent it.
“Ellaner knows everything. Your things will be packed and left with the building manager. Don’t contact her again.”
We spent the next few hours packing up Fabian’s stuff. It was strange handling his things, knowing what I knew now. His favorite hoodie that I used to sleep in when he was away, the coffee mug I bought him for Christmas, the framed photo of us from last summer’s beach trip. All of it felt contaminated somehow.
Mom and I had just finished taping up the last box when we heard shouting from outside. I looked out my second floor window to see Fabian on the front steps of the building, buzzing my apartment over and over. He looked like hell. Rumpled clothes, messy hair, red-faced with anger or alcohol or both.
Dad went to the window and looked down. When Fabian spotted him, he started yelling louder. What right did Dad have to lock him out? This was his home, too. Dad just shook his head and closed the blinds.
The buzzing continued for almost 20 minutes. Then it stopped. I peered through the blinds and saw Fabian sitting on the steps, head in his hands. Part of me, a small stupid part, felt bad for him. But then I remembered.
“She’s convenient.”
“Her dad’s money keeps me comfortable.”
“I’ll find someone worth showing off.”
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