With a newfound indifference, Marcus stated, "We're even now."

As he moved to enter, Melissa clutched his hand, wedging hers in the door's gap, her dignity sacrificed in a plea for another chance.

“Marcus, I won't leave again," she sobbed, her words trailing off into tears.

Deep down, she sensed the futility; he was clearly done with her, underscored by his tossing of the check.

Yet, hope spurred her to beg. Might he soften, and reconsider?

But Marcus erupted. "What do you mean by not leaving? Melissa, we're finished. Do you understand what a breakup is? It means no more ‘us.

Your life, your concerns, they're irrelevant to me now. And mine to you. This is a breakup. It's not a child's game of playing house."

After his outburst, Marcus' anger subsided, leaving a calm in its wake.

His tone softened as he added, “We're not right for each other. You were right. We're in different worlds. It shouldn't have gone this far. I pushed it. So, take this 8 million as compensation. Please, Melissa, don't come back. Don't cause trouble for me, and don't put yourself through this again."

Gently, he placed the check in her hand.

"This is goodbye."

With that, he eased her hand away, opened the door, and disappeared inside.

Melissa remained at the door, immobile until her legs grew numb.

Slowly, she squatted, clutching her aching stomach, yet refusing to seek medical help.

Her heart ached more than her body.

His words had cut deep, but she lingered, hoping against hope.

Was there a chance Marcus' feelings might soften overnight? Could he still Like her?

Cradling her arms, Melissa wept silently.

Inside, Marcus was restless.

Pouring himself a glass of ice water, he gulped it down, but it did little to quell his frustration. He was tempted to open the door and cast Melissa far away.