The first few days after the breakup were awful.
I wasn’t just used to having Kyle around. I was built around it.
I was the kind of person who always wanted someone beside me, someone to talk to, someone to curl up against, someone whose presence filled the silence. Without him, every evening felt too long, every room felt too quiet, every meal felt wrong.
Jason found out I had moved and started stopping by with random daily necessities. Tissues. Fruit. Takeout. A charger I hadn’t realized I’d left behind.
I felt bad accepting, so I started bringing him little things too. Coffee. Snacks. That kind of thing.
Little by little, we got more familiar.
And weirdly enough, the forced separation was working.
A week later, the ache had dulled.
I still thought of Kyle at night, of course. His stupidly handsome face. His almost insulting body. The way he took care of me with a level of patience that made him feel more like an exhausted househusband than a boyfriend.
But at least I wasn’t falling apart anymore.
Then one night, while I was lying in bed thinking about him, I heard a sound at my door.
A soft metallic scraping.
My whole body went cold.
Someone was trying to pick the lock.
I shot upright, turned on every light I could reach, and shouted toward the door, “I’m calling the police! Leave now!”
As I fumbled for my phone, there was a burst of hurried footsteps outside, growing farther away.
Then came another knock.
A familiar voice sounded through the door.
“It’s me. Kyle. The guy already ran.”
I was still shaking.
“How do I know it’s really you?”
There was a pause.
Then his voice came back through gritted teeth.
“Ella. This is the seventh day since you left. One hour and thirty-nine minutes past midnight. Is that enough proof?”
I stood there for a second, mentally counting.
Then I unlocked the door.
Kyle looked terrible.
He stepped inside, took one look around my tiny apartment, and his face got even darker.
“You’re living in a place like this?”
Then, without missing a beat, he added, “And as for that breakup text, I don’t accept it. Come home with me.”
I shook my head immediately and took two steps backward.
“No.”
His jaw tightened. “You’d rather stay here every night scared out of your mind than live with me?”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
Not an emotional one. Just leftover fear from being startled.
But when Kyle saw my eyes turn red, he panicked so visibly it almost made me forget to be sad.
He gritted his teeth and said, “Fine. If you won’t leave, I’ll stay.”
That was when I noticed what he had brought with him.
A pillow.
My pillow.
The one I had bought for him.
My heart skipped.
I had left it behind on purpose because I thought it belonged to him now.
Hadn’t he liked Lena’s pillow more?
But before I could ask, he had already set his things down like he meant business.
After that night, Kyle just… stayed.
No matter how I tried to throw him out, he refused to go.
And somehow life started slipping back into a shape that looked painfully familiar.
He washed my underwear.
He cooked.
At night, he warmed my cold feet between his legs.
The only problem was that nine times out of ten, there was also something very not-foot-related and very difficult to ignore pressed against me.
I chose not to mention it.
As the one benefiting from all this free service, silence felt like the smartest option.
Still, Kyle constantly complained about how old and run-down my apartment was.
I never argued, because I thought so too. I’d only rented it because it was cheap.
Once you got used to a spacious house, it was hard to enjoy squeezing two people into one tiny bathroom.
One evening, while I was curled up in his arms, I casually tried to test the waters.
“So… when are you leaving?”
He bit me lightly in warning.
“Am I not taking care of you well enough?”
Something hard pressed closer.
I shut up instantly.
But inside, I let out a long silent sigh.
If he stayed any longer, I was going to get attached all over again.
Then, one night, while lazily rubbing the soft skin at my waist, Kyle said, “There’s a banquet tomorrow. Someone specifically asked for you. Want to go?”
I blinked. “Who?”
He only gave me a mysterious look.
“You’ll see.”