HE SAID I WAS “TOO AVAILABLE” — SO I STOPPED MAKING HER A PRIORITY

A week later, the "mystery" turned into a cold war.

Jessica started staying out late. She began posting photos on her Instagram stories of "drinks with the girls," but there was always a man’s jacket in the background or a tagged location of a bar she knew I hated. She was trying to trigger my jealousy, trying to force me back into the "available" role where I would beg for her time.

It didn't work. I muted her stories and focused on the closing of the Miami deal.

The escalation happened on a Thursday night. I came home to find Jessica’s best friend, Megan, in our living room. Megan was the kind of person who lived for drama—the "enabler" in every toxic friendship.

"Oh, Derek," Megan said, smirking. "You’re actually home. Jessica said you’ve been practically living at the office. Or is it at 'Sophia’s'?"

I didn't even take off my coat. "Megan, if you’re here to be a mouthpiece for Jessica’s insecurities, you can leave. If you’re here as a guest, keep the commentary to yourself."

Jessica walked out of the kitchen, her face flushed. "Don't talk to her like that! She’s just worried about me. Everyone is! They all see how you’re treating me."

"And how am I treating you, Jess?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe. "I’m paying the rent. I’m keeping the fridge stocked. I’m working. I’m doing exactly what you asked for. I’m being 'less available.' Why is everyone 'worried' now?"

"You’re being cold!" Jessica yelled. "You didn't even comment on my post yesterday. You didn't ask why I was home at 2 AM. Do you even care if I’m seeing someone else?"

There it was. The ultimate bait.

"If you’re seeing someone else, Jessica, tell me now so I can call the moving company," I said, my voice dead calm. "But if you’re just staying out late to see if I’ll bark like a trained dog, you’re wasting your breath. I don't play games. I’m thirty-one years old. I’m looking for a partner, not a puzzle."

Megan chimed in, "You’re such a narcissist, Derek. You’re punishing her just because she asked for a little space."

"I'm not punishing her," I replied. "I'm respecting her. She said my attention was 'background noise.' So, I turned the volume down. If she doesn't like the silence, that’s not my problem."

I walked past them into my office and locked the door. I could hear them whispering, then crying, then eventually the front door slammed as Megan left.

An hour later, Jessica knocked softly.

"Derek? I’m sorry. I told Megan to leave. I... I didn't mean any of it. I’m not seeing anyone else. I just wanted you to notice me."

I opened the door. She looked small. For a second, I felt that old urge to scoop her up and tell her everything was fine. But then I remembered the Pad Thai. I remembered the "turn-off" comment. I realized that if I gave in now, the cycle would just repeat. She would lose respect for me the moment I became "available" again.

"I noticed," I said. "But Jess, I’m going to Las Vegas next week for the Commercial Summit. Sophia will be there. The whole team will be there. If you can't handle me being 'busy,' maybe we shouldn't be together."

"I'll handle it," she promised, her eyes desperate. "I'll be better. I swear."

But "better" for Jessica meant "more sneaky." While I was packing for Vegas, I caught her looking through my iPad. She was looking for Sophia’s flight details. She was looking for a reason to explode.

I didn't say a word. I let her look. I let her find exactly what I wanted her to find. Because what she didn't know was that I had already made a decision about our lease, and the "mystery" was about to reach its final, brutal conclusion...