Chapter 8: The Startup’s End
Ethan’s company dissolved in the unglamorous way failing companies dissolve: final emails, a locked office, creditors with better timing than sentiment.
He blamed market conditions in public and my “abandonment” in private messages that violated the spirit of the order if not always the letter. I forwarded, blocked, documented. Priya filed once for clarification; the court sharpened the language. Contact shrank to attorney channels. The relief was physical—shoulders dropping an inch I had not known I was holding.
I paid myself a parenthood bonus from a profitable quarter and moved it into a separate savings line labeled with the baby’s only name so far: Bean. Ethan’s column in my old mental ledger stayed closed. Love did not get to invoice me for lobster it never earned.
A former bridesmaid requested coffee “without sides.” I went, listened to her discomfort, and left when she suggested I had been harsh for a man under stress. Stress did not enter PINs. I paid for my drink and did not offer her a role in the baby’s life. Circles could be redrawn. Mine had been.
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