Chapter 9
I tried to break up with Nate.
I really did.
By then, I didn’t think I loved him anymore. When he said he wanted us to be good together, my heart stayed completely still.
No ache. No warmth. Nothing.
I just thought about Olivia.
So one day, carefully, I said, “Nate, let’s break up.”
The second the words left my mouth, he exploded.
“Why?” he demanded, grabbing my shoulders. “We’ve been together almost four years. In another two, once I’m stable, we’ll get married. Why would you want to break up?”
He shook me like if he rattled hard enough, the thought would fall out of my head.
“I’m not agreeing to this. Is it because I paid too much attention to Olivia before? Fine. I get it now. I won’t do that anymore. I’ll only treat you well.”
His voice went desperate.
He even looked afraid.
“Give me one more chance, baby. Nothing could ever happen between me and Olivia. She’s not even the kind of woman anyone really settles down with.”
I looked up at him.
Then I asked quietly, “What kind of woman is?”
He answered without even thinking.
“Someone like you. Sweet. Obedient. Sensible. Good values. Always takes care of me.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was suddenly so painfully clear.
Everything good he loved about me was something that benefited him.
He remembered how I’d dragged him home when he was drunk. How I’d wiped his face with a warm towel. How I always forgave him. How easy I made his life.
But he had never once cared about my inner world.
I wasn’t actually as gentle as he thought.
Half the reason I didn’t fight with him was because I was too tired to. Too numb. Too lazy to waste energy on arguments that would never change anything.
Most of the time, my sadness sat so deep and so quietly inside me that even I had stopped noticing it.
He had definitely never noticed.
Still talking too fast, too intensely, he pulled out his phone.
“You care about Olivia, right? Fine. I’ll delete her now.”
He deleted her contact right in front of me like that proved something.
But it didn’t.
Because the truth was, I had already decided.
After he left, I started packing.
I told Olivia I was finally done with him.
She didn’t hesitate.
“Move into my spare place,” she said.
The second Nate was gone, Olivia made one phone call. A whole crew showed up to help move my things, and within two hours I was standing in my new apartment.
Everything inside looked like me.
Pink tulip bath mats. Soft pastel accents. Girlish little details I loved but never bought for myself.
I had seen Olivia’s taste online. Minimalist. Clean. Cool.
This place wasn’t her style.
She had made it for me.
That was when I started to understand that Olivia was not the soft, harmless girl she pretended to be.
She was the seagull riding a storm.
The cat that toyed with what it wanted before finally claiming it.
And for some reason, that realization didn’t scare me away.
It pulled me closer.