Who was to blame here?

Tashi had been your girlfriend for three years. You'd met her right after her blooming tennis career had been pulled from the root, first spotting her in the dining hall, her fingers fidgeting with the velcro straps of her knee brace until the two of you made eye contact.

From there it all seemed like a whirlwind, buying an apartment off campus, adopting a cat, shepherding that cat through a surprise pregnancy and then immediately getting her fixed after the kittens had been given away. Graduating, both of you finding your footing in your respective professions. Despite the uncertainty of it all, one thing you could always guarantee was the steady footing of the domesticity you got to come back to every day.

But coaching was already weighing on Tashi. Hard. Somehow, her legitimacy was always brought into question, despite her knack for making stars and keeping them burning bright. It's fine, you had said, they'll see when you debut Emma. But Emma's pro debut came and went, then Nat's, then Avery, and then June. All fine players. Great even. But nothing changed.

And so the one thing you never imagined happened. First came the books, pages and pages full of advice that was nowhere near as valuable as her experience and skill. Then the incessant podcast listening, all about self help, and building up your worth. The second the word "alpha" hit your ears, you tried to shut it all down. Tried.

You knew full well Tashi didn't ever need any of the shit marketed towards failing men. A fact that you reminded her of when the conversation you tried to keep calm exploded into a fight. "Just 'cause you talk like one doesn't make you a man!" Your words echoed in your mind as the two of you fell asleep, untouching, backs to each other, Fish curled up near your feet.

And now, all you could do was stare at the truth in front of you. There she was, tossing clothes into a duffel at the foot of the bed, assuming that you're still asleep. She wasn't just leaving.

She was leaving like a man.