The Day the Door Closed

My mother died in the hospital. I sat beside her bed, holding her hand until the machines stopped beeping. The room was quiet after that. I didn’t know what to do with the silence, so I stayed. My girlfriend was there too. She sat in the corner, scrolling through her phone. We had been together for seven years. I thought she was the one person who understood. The next day, she told me. She had been sleeping with my best friend for the past year. She said it like it was something I should have known. Like it was something I deserved. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t have any left. She packed a bag while I stood in the hallway. I watched her move from room to room, taking what she wanted. She didn’t look at me when she left. The door clicked shut behind her. I was still standing there when I realized I had nowhere to go. My mother was gone. My girlfriend was gone. My best friend was gone. The apartment felt too big. I didn’t know how to fill it. I didn’t try. I just stood there, waiting for something to change. Nothing did.