You Are Not in the Plan

1.

Spencer pinned Chloe, the new girl in our lab, to the top of his iMessage. But he refused to pin me.

So I broke up with him.

My best friend, Maya, couldnt believe it. Over something that small?

Everyone thought I'd regret it.

After all, Spencer was the perfect boyfriend.

He planned out every step for me, from my bachelor's degree to my direct Ph.D. program, making sure we'd end up at the same top-tier university.

He meticulously analyzed which cities would be best for us to settle in, considering everything from the job market and housing prices to the quality of life.

His Moleskine notebook was filled with a detailed ten-year plan for "us."

It was so precise it even noted the year we'd have enough for a down payment on a house in Austin and the year we should have our first child.

But he wouldn't pin my conversation in iMessage.

He thought spending five seconds to text me goodnight was a waste of his precious research time.

Yet, he was willing to spend two whole weeks holding Chloe's hand through a project she couldn't figure outDthe star new member of his team.

"It's for work," he explained. "She's the main collaborator on the grant proposal. This is about our future."

I knew.

I knew all of it.

But I didn't want to live in his future anymore. I just wanted to live in my present.

...

The day before our five-year anniversary, I tried to coax him into pinning our chat.

[It's seriously the only anniversary gift I want. Please, just this once?]

It was probably the seventh time I had asked.

He had refused the first six times.

Right now, he had ninety-nine pinned conversations.

There was Chloe from the lab, his advisor Professor Davies, and all sorts of project groups and academic seminar chats.

But not me.

My feelings had cycled from confusion to hurt and anger, and now, finally, to a flat, calm emptiness.

It had been twelve hours since I sent that text. It still just said, "Delivered." No reply.

I wasnt surprised.

After all, Spencer was always busy. Not texting back was his normal.

Once, he went to Chicago on a business trip with his advisor and didn't message me once for two weeks.

If I hadn't seen Chloe, who was also on the trip, posting Instagram Stories like usual, I would have thought he'd gotten into an accident.

It's pathetic, really. I had to find out what my own boyfriend was up to through someone else's social media.

This time was no different. I scrolled through Chloe's IG Stories and saw their academic summit in Chicago had ended. They were at a celebration dinner at the hotel.

The most stressful part of their trip was over.

Still no reply from Spencer.

I called him directly.

He finally picked up on the third try.

"What's up?"

The weariness in his voice, mixed with the static on the line, sent a chill through me.

I gripped my phone tighter.

"Today is our anniversary. I'm right outside your hotel..."

"It's just an anniversary, Clara. You didn't have to fly all the way to Chicago for it."

Spencer cut me off, his tone flat.

The five years I had been so excited to celebrate.

In his eyes, it was just an insignificant "just."

How many five-year spans do we get in our short youth?

Spencer kept talking.

"You should be using this time to write your paper. At your current research level, it's going to be tough to get into the university we planned for."

I cut him off softly.

"I'll wait for you. When the dinner is over, just have a quick meal with me. Half an hour is all I need."

I hung up before he could say no.

I waited.

My phone was silent.

No return call, no new messages.

The warm, yellow lights of the hotel lobby were blurred by the swirling snow outside.

I could faintly hear the sounds of laughter and cheerful chatter from within the glass revolving doors.

It made the world outside feel exceptionally quiet.

Spencer was probably in there, schmoozing with the big shots of the academic world.

Maybe Chloe was right by his side, holding a champagne flute, her smile gentle and captivating.

But none of that mattered anymore.

I had already made up my mind to end things.

2.

When I told Maya I wanted to break up, she called me crazy.

"Don't you remember how good Spencer is to you? What about his notebook?"

"You have a boyfriend who has planned out everything for you. Do you know how many girls would kill for that?"

Spencer had a Moleskine notebook.

In it, written in different colored pens, were the plans for our next ten years together.

Phase one was college.

He was always smarter than me in high school. He tutored me in calculus every single week without fail, and in the end, we got into the same university.

Phase two was our Ph.D.s.

He mapped out the perfect path for me, from my undergrad to a direct doctoral program.

He detailed which major to switch to, which classes to take for an easy high GPA, and which professor's research group to join.

Then came jobs after graduation, buying a house, getting married, and having kids.

He researched the climate, job prospects, and housing markets in Seattle, Austin, and Denver. He calculated the exact year we'd pay off our student loans, the year we'd make a down payment, and the year we'd have our first child.

I was in every stage of his plan.

Maya sighed. "Clara, tell me, what other man would do all that for his girlfriend?"

I watched the snow outside as it slowly stopped falling.

My throat felt a little tight.

She was right.

The word "we" was written all over that notebook.

He used to tell me all the time:

"We're not just passing through each other's lives. We're walking to the finish line together."

Those words used to move me so much.

But his notebook said he needed to get me a gift for our anniversary, yet he couldn't even remember the right date.

He thought replying to my texts was a waste of time, that talking to me was less important than reading another academic paper.

He was planning our home ten years from now, but he was letting the me of today feel disappointed and cold, over and over again.

Maya was still trying to talk me out of it.

"Look, he's planned for you in his life ten years from now. Isn't that enough proof that he loves you?"

"And now you want to break up over something as small as a pinned message? Aren't you being a little dramatic?"

"Listen to me. Don't be impulsive. Don't break up. You will regret this."

I cut her off gently.

"If he doesn't care about the me who exists right now, is there really a place for me in that future he's planned?"

3.

Spencer finally walked out of the hotel when the snow on my umbrella had grown thick.

He was only wearing a thin dress shirt.

The black cashmere coat I got him for Christmas last year was draped over Chloe's shoulders.

That slash of black was jarring against the white snow.

She was looking up at Spencer, saying something with a soft smile on her face, her body leaning unconsciously closer to his.

Spencer's head was tilted slightly, listening intently.

The dim, yellow light from the porch lamps cast a glow on them both.

I had to admit, they looked good together.

My sudden appearance surprised both of them.

I looked at Spencer's nose, which was red from the cold.

"Where's your coat?"

Chloe clutched the coat tighter and spoke in a soft, delicate voice.

"It's my fault. I get cold so easily, and Spencer let me wear it."

She turned to Spencer with a sweet smile.

"Thanks to your coat, and thanks to you helping me organize my research framework, Professor Albright said he's very interested in our project."

"You worked so hard tutoring me these past two weeks. I have to treat you to a big dinner tomorrow to thank you."

Chloe effortlessly shifted the conversation to academics.

And just as effortlessly, she excluded me from their world.

She glanced at me.

Her eyes held a tiny, unconcealed flicker of triumph.

Spencer frowned.

"You should wear more next time. If you catch a cold, it'll affect the project's progress."

"This project is difficult. Even though Professor Albright is interested, you're not capable of completing it on your own yet. Don't forget to keep doing your research. The deadline is the day after tomorrow."

The smile on Chloe's face froze for a second before she quickly recovered, nodding obediently.

"I know. With you helping me, I'm sure I can do it."

She took the coat off.

"The coat is really warm, but it's too cold out. You should have it back."

"Don't bother."

I spoke up, my voice as flat as if I were talking about a stranger's business.

"It's dirty now. I don't want it."

Chloe's smile vanished.

Spencer took the coat, put it on, and looked at me.

"Weren't you going to have dinner with me?"

We ended up at a fast-food joint on the corner of the street.

Spencer always forgot to eat when he was busy. He ate slowly, his eyes glued to his phone screen.

I snatched his phone out of his hand.

"Just eat."

I opened his iMessage and started scrolling down.

The screen was filled with conversations. My thumb ached from scrolling before I finally found my chat at the very bottom, a red "99+" badge glaring at me.

I found it almost funny.

Chloe's conversation was right there in his pinned list.

Her contact name was "Chloe - Joint Project."

Their profile pictures were both professional headshots, their names their real names.

In a way, they looked more like professional partners than anything else.

I pointed to the pinned chat and asked him about it.

Spencer said flatly, "I didn't do it. Chloe probably did it herself when she was using my phone to look something up."

So Chloe could just use his phone whenever she wanted.

The permissions I had, Chloe had too.

The permissions Chloe had, I didn't necessarily have.

I rested my chin on my hand and looked at him.

"You can't find ten minutes to reply to my messages, but you have plenty of time to help her revise her project framework."

"When are you ever going to actually care about my feelings?"

He explained, his voice devoid of warmth.

"This project is important. It affects my future Ph.D. application. It's all for our future."

He paused, as if he couldn't comprehend my logic.

"Why are you always so focused on these unimportant little things?"

There it was again. That same line.

I didn't want to waste my breath arguing with him about whether this was a "little thing" anymore.

I handed him the gift I had prepared.

After all these years, I thought maybe we deserved one last chance.

Inside the box were little mementos from our life together.

The first love letter he ever wrote me, a strange rock we found while hiking in a national park...

And a breakup letter.

If he opened the gift right there, I would try to talk to him one more time.

Spencer looked surprised.

"Sorry, I forgot to get you a gift. I'll make it up to you in a few days."

He took it from me.

His fingertips had just brushed the ribbon on the box.

Then his phone rang.

Spencer's fingers immediately moved from the gift to his phone screen.

Chloe's voice, choked with sobs, came through the receiver.

"Spencer, my stomach hurts so bad... I can't drive. Please, you're the only person I can trust right now."

I spoke coldly.

"Is there no one else at the hotel? Can't you just call 911?"

The person on the other end ignored me, continuing to sob and call out "Spencer" over and over.

Spencer frowned and stood up, ready to leave.

"Where are you? I'm coming right now."

I grabbed the corner of his shirt.

"Do you have to be the one to go? What about everyone else?"

He turned back to look at me.

In the dim light of the fast-food restaurant.

I couldn't tell if the emotion in his eyes was anxiety or annoyance.

I only heard the urgency in his voice.

"The deadline is the day after tomorrow. If this gets delayed..."

Spencer paused, as if trying to soothe me, or maybe just to placate me.

"I'll open the gift later. I'll be back as soon as I get her to the hospital. It won't take long."

The door of the restaurant opened, and a gust of cold wind blew in.

I looked at my hand, at the fingers he had just pulled away from. I realized something with a delayed sense of clarity:

Maybe he felt both anxiety and annoyance.

The anxiety was for his project. The annoyance was for me.

He took the gift with him, but it didn't matter when he opened it anymore.

This time, I didn't hesitate for a second.

I sent him a message: "Spencer, we're breaking up."