They Left Me Out of Their Group, So I’ll Leave Them Out of My Life Chapter 03
More than seven hundred messages. Two years and three months of a group chat built around leaving me out.
Didn’t I at least deserve an explanation?
That night, Enzo finished gaming.
He saw me sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing, and leaned down to kiss my forehead.
“What are you thinking about? Want to go get dinner?”
“Enzo.”
“Yeah?”
“Are you hiding something from me?”
He paused, then smiled. “What are you talking about? What’s gotten into you today?”
“Nothing. Just asking.”
“You’ve been watching those relationship videos again, haven’t you? All those influencers telling women to snoop through their boyfriend’s phone. Don’t let that stuff get in your head. You know I work for the family. I can’t give you a play-by-play of everything I do.”
He ruffled my hair like I was a kid.
“Come on. Let’s go get Italian.”
During dinner, he got a call and stood up to take it outside.
I caught a glimpse of his screen when it lit up. Nico.
He walked toward the door, turned his back to me, and lowered his voice.
I couldn’t hear him, but I saw him smile.
An easy, unguarded smile.
He almost never smiled like that with me.
When he came back, he said nothing and kept cutting his steak.
“Who was that?”
“Nico. Wanted to know if I was playing ball tomorrow.”
“Are you going?”
“We’ll see.”
I cut off a piece of steak and bit into it.
We’ll see.
In Enzo-speak, that meant: depends what the group decides.
The next day was Saturday.
At nine that morning, Enzo left, saying he was going to play ball.
I said okay.
After he left, I opened the tablet he’d left at home.
He was still logged into WhatsApp.
I found the group chat. “Good Times Without Kira.”
The newest message was from seven-thirty that morning.
Nico: “Just checking. Kira’s definitely not coming to the picnic, right?”
Elena: “Nope. I told her yesterday I wasn’t feeling well.”
Marco: “I told her I’m going to a friend’s place.”
Lucia: “Okay. North entrance of Central Park at two.”
Enzo sent an OK emoji.
Playing ball.
He’d told me he was going to play ball.
I put the tablet down and leaned back. Something heavy settled on my chest.
They had a whole system now.
First, make sure I wouldn’t be there. Then lie to me one by one. Then meet up.
Like a coordinated operation with one objective: keep Kira out.
I checked the time. 9:40.
A little over four hours until two.
I scrolled through the group for a long time.
All the way back to Thanksgiving last year.
That day, I’d waited at home for Enzo so we could eat together.
At nine, he told me someone important in the family had shown up and he couldn’t get away.
But the group chat showed them all having dinner at Lucia’s, even video-calling my brother and telling him to come over.
Marco had told me he had a Thanksgiving party. Then he’d left me alone for Thanksgiving.
Every lie had backup. Every story lined up.
I closed WhatsApp and put the tablet back where it had been.
Then I picked up my phone and texted Enzo. “Where are you playing today? Want me to come watch?”
He replied almost immediately. “No. You just got back from a trip. Stay home and rest.”
I didn’t answer.
He was probably on his way to Central Park.
Off to enjoy “Good Times Without Kira” with the other seven.