Love Rents A Room
Chapter 179: He Had Left Her For Good

Chapter 179: He Had Left Her For Good

A month.

Thirty days.

Seven hundred and twenty hours.

Forty-three thousand, two hundred minutes.

And not a single one of them brought a call.

Or a text.

Or a sign of him.

Not even a damn voicemail.

Joanne had lived through hunger before. She had known what it felt like to go without food. But this... this was starvation of a different kind. A hollowing out. An ache in her chest where her heart used to beat strong and steady—now just a quiet thud of confusion, pain, and relentless waiting.

At first, she made excuses for him.

He was overwhelmed.

He needed time.

Maybe he was trying to be honorable... to sort things out with Heather first.

Maybe he was hurting too.

She held on to those maybes like lifelines.

But as the weeks passed, those maybes turned into knives.

She had become a ghost in her own home. The house, once filled with warm laughter and music and the smell of freshly brewed coffee, had turned into a mausoleum.

Jeffrey had touched every corner of this place—his jacket still hung on the back of the chair. His toothbrush still lay in the cup beside hers. His coffee mug sat on the sink, long dried at the bottom.

She hadn’t touched any of it.

Not because she was holding on—but because she couldn’t bring herself to erase him.

She wasn’t ready to accept that he had already erased her.

People noticed, of course. They always did.

Jason had stopped asking questions and started staying longer after meetings. Patrick didn’t say anything—but he made sure she ate, even if it was just a bite. Fiona began showing up unannounced, tidying the kitchen or putting groceries in her fridge. Veronica kept sending her news articles, as if they were still brainstorming projects together.

And still—nothing from Jeffrey.

When people asked, Joanne smiled and said he had gone back to sort things with his family. Said he’d return soon. That he just needed time.

But with every passing day, the smile cracked more.

When Liam muttered under his breath one afternoon, "Should I kill him?"

Joanne stared at the wall like she was trying to see through it.

Then quietly, she replied, "He found his way to me once. Maybe he’ll find it again."

But even she didn’t believe it anymore.

She stopped showing up for half of her appointments. She stopped dressing up. There were days when she didn’t leave her room. Days when she sat on the rug in the living room, wrapped in a blanket, staring out the window as the sky changed from blue to gray to black.

Then back again.

One morning, she woke up on the floor, Fluffy curled tightly against her side, his soft whimpers nudging her awake.

She blinked up at the ceiling.

There it was again. That damn stain Jeffrey once pointed out—said it looked like a seagull. She’d laughed at him then, rolled her eyes, told him it looked like nothing.

Now?

Now, it looked like a seagull.

A dead one.

Falling mid-flight.

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she realized she was crying.

It wasn’t a sob. Not even a sound. Just... tears. Endless, quiet tears that soaked into the collar of her shirt as she lay motionless.

When she finally stirred, it was dark again. The house silent.

She turned on the lights. Her fingers trembled as she did.

Her head was splitting. Her throat felt like sandpaper. Her nose was so blocked she could only breathe through her mouth—and even that hurt. Every inch of her body ached.

And then she saw it.

A small Tupperware box on her dining table. A note stuck to the lid: "You don’t have to say anything. Just eat. – Fiona."

Joanne stared at it for a long time.

She hadn’t even heard the door open. Fiona had come in, left food, and walked out again. She was right there in the dining room, yet she didn’t even know someone had entered her house to leave her food.

Fiona’s kindness didn’t surprise her, but her insensitivity to her surroundings did. Was she so lost that she didn’t care about herself anymore?

Joanne opened the lid. The smell of warm stew hit her like a memory. Her stomach growled, confused.

She turned—and saw Fluffy staring at his empty bowl.

She had forgotten to feed him.

Forgotten him.

Her knees buckled and she slid down to the floor, pressing her hand over her mouth to silence the scream building in her chest.

What was she becoming?

This wasn’t heartbreak anymore. This was self-destruction. This was her disappearing inch by inch.

Jeffrey Winchester had left. Without a word. Without a warning. He’d walked away and taken her heart with him.

But she wouldn’t let him take the rest.

She wiped her face. Blew her nose. Took the Tupperware to the microwave. Scooped kibble into Fluffy’s bowl. Opened the windows to let fresh air in.

And then she whispered into the silence of her home—hoarse, broken, but fierce:

"No more."

After dinner, she moved like muscle memory. The stew had warmed her insides just enough to remind her she was human again. Breathing. Hurting. Still alive.

She stepped into her bedroom, lit by the soft amber of the lamp. Her clothes hung loose on her frame now—she’d lost weight, hadn’t even noticed. She opened the bathroom door and turned on the tap for the bathtub, letting the water flow into the porcelain, slow and steady. The steam began to rise, fogging up the mirror before her.

She stripped in silence.

God, she stank. She didn’t remember the last time she bathed. She didn’t want to remember. Days bled into each other lately. The world had become gray noise, and she’d been fading with it.

She sat on the edge of the tub, staring blankly at the water as it rose. Somewhere between the sound of the water and the echo of her thoughts, her fingers reached for her phone.

She didn’t know why.

Habit? Masochism? Hope?

And then, with her thumb hovering over the screen, she typed the name she’d been avoiding like a curse.

Jeffrey Winchester.

The search engine wasted no time.

BREAKING: Jeffrey Winchester Named CEO of Winchester Logistics.

Her breath caught.

Happiness. That was the first emotion that struck her. Fierce. Bright. Immediate.

A smile bloomed on her lips before she could stop it. "You did it," she whispered into the silence, voice shaking. "Finally!"

Of course he did. He deserved it.

But then... the joy settled. Like snow after a storm.

A slow, sobering realization crept in.

He hadn’t told her.

Why?

Why didn’t he call her, even just to say ’I did it’?

Even if things were complicated... he would’ve shared this. Wouldn’t he?

Unless—

Her thumb scrolled. Down, down. Into the next page of results.

And then it hit her.

Is this mystery woman the girlfriend of CEO Jeffrey Winchester?

Her heart stopped.

The photo attached looked like it had been taken outside a café. Heather stood there, holding her baby, looking perfectly positioned for a headline. Next to her, caught mid-laugh, was Jeffrey.

Her Jeffrey.

Smiling.