“Cole, what is this?” My voice cracked, and I hated that it did.

“My phone, Paige,” he sighed. “Sorry I left it on the counter.”

“I saw the message, Cole.”

He didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed the orange juice and poured some.

“Alyssa,” I said louder. “Your trainer.”

“Yeah, Paige,” he said, leaning against the counter. “I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Tell me what, Cole?” I demanded.

He took another sip of orange juice like he was casually watching a game.

“That I’m with Alyssa now. She makes me happy! You’ve let yourself go, and that’s on you.”

“You’re with her?” I asked.

“Yes.”

That second yes hurt the most, because it meant he’d practiced this moment, and I was the last person to learn my own life had already been replaced.

And that was it.

No apology. No shame. Just the truth delivered like it was a minor inconvenience I was expected to deal with.