Collaborator

Pinterest sent me a notification. "Your board has new pins." I don't use Pinterest.

It was her board, technically. "Our Flat." Ruby and I made it when we were dreaming about moving in together. Two armchairs. A green velvet sofa. A kitchen with a window big enough to sit in. We'd added items back and forth for months. I put in a rug once. She said it was ugly. I kept it anyway.

We broke up in March. I never deleted the account. Never even opened the app. I just muted notifications and pretended it was a closed chapter.

Except last night, 2 AM, a ping.

"Ruby added 3 pins to Our Flat."

I opened it. My hands felt strange. The board was still alive. Still updating. New pins since March. A tiny breakfast table. A reading lamp. A window seat with cushions. All of them in the style we'd picked. Same colours. Same textures.

I scrolled further. Underneath each pin, a little note. In her voice.

"He'd say this is too small."

"He'd love this one."

"He'd hate this and secretly want it."

She'd kept the board alive, building a home for two people, narrating my reactions to a life I wasn't part of.

I finally noticed the top of the page. The collaborator list.

Ruby. And me.

She hadn't removed me.

Seven months, and I'm still listed as someone who lives there.

I added one pin. A rug.

An ugly one.