Annika got out of the nest of her bed, with its extra-large comforter and six fluffy pillows, shut off the alarm that hadn’t rung yet, and walked to her bathroom to shower and brush her teeth. Afterward, she picked out a killer outfit that always made her feel confident and calm: a teal mermaid-style skirt, a pale coral-colored eyelet shirt, and ballet flats. Annika nodded to herself in the mirror. Bags under her eyes or not, she could do this. She would do this.

Clutching her daily cinnamon dolce latte, Annika walked through the cavernous parking garage. She was only vaguely aware of a woman in a business suit pulling a briefcase from a silver convertible, until a man she’d never seen before approached the woman in a Break Up T-shirt and jeans. Annika slowed down to make sure the woman would be okay. She saw her look up at the guy and frown slightly.

The guy said, “Heather Formley?”

The woman nodded.

“I’m a terminator with Break Up. I’ve been sent by Yuri Trent to tell you he’s done with your relationship and is no longer interested in couples therapy. There is no hope of reconciliation. Please don’t try to call him or show up at his house. He’ll have your Hello Kitty pajamas and your electric toothbrush delivered via FedEx within the week.” The guy handed the woman a business card, turned on his heel, and walked off, entering something into his phone as he went.

The woman—Heather—hadn’t said a word. It wasn’t until the guy was out of the parking garage that she said, “Wait!” But of course, it was too late by then. The “terminator” couldn’t even hear her anymore.

Annika walked up to her. “Hey. Can I do anything for you? I saw what happened. It was…” She shook her head.

Heather turned to her, her face a mask of bewildered shock. Her leather briefcase hung limply from one hand, the business card from the other. “What—what was that? What just happened?”

“Your … boyfriend? Yuri?”

Heather nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been going out a year.”

Annika tried not to wince. She kept her voice gentle as she said, “Yuri hired this company called Break Up to break up with you. They’re like Uber Eats or DoorDash, but with breakups instead of food. That person was one of their drivers. Look at the business card he gave you.”

“He called himself a ‘terminator,’” Heather said, as if she still couldn’t believe this was real life. She held up the business card. It had the same Break Up branding as the guy’s T-shirt. Underneath, there was a line that read, Scan QR code for details about your breakup, with a QR code underneath.

“Yeah. I know.” Annika noticed the hard edge to her voice. “I’m really sorry.”

“What … what’ll this code do?” Heather looked completely baffled.