Chapter 2
916 Words
When I returned to our rented apartment, a sudden wave of cold reality hit me.
The place we had spent years building into a warm, cozy home had somehow been stripped hollow.
There used to be matching pairs of slippers at the entryway, twin toothbrushes sitting side by side in the bathroom, and a couple's set of pajamas in the closet, one pink, one blue.
Now, only my stuff remained here.
The warning signs had been there all along. I had just chosen to be blind to them.
The night our appeal failed, Michael drank until sunrise.
He had squeezed my hand, his eyes bloodshot and pleading.
"Just hold on a little longer. Once she gets transferred, all this misery will be over."
I remained silent that night.
After that, everything fell like dominoes.
My exclusive interview opportunities were reassigned to Sarah. My promotion bonuses were redirected to Sarah. Eventually, even my boyfriend belonged to Sarah.
Swallowing the bitter heartbreak threatening to choke me, I pulled out my bags and began packing.
Since this place was no longer a home, there was no reason for me to stay.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door to find Michael standing on the porch.
"Laura, can you please grow up for once?"
Those exact words again.
Sick of his patronizing tone, I chose to ignore him.
"Where are your keys?" I asked.
"What?"
I stared at him in quiet disbelief.
Realization dawned on his face, and he offered a casual shrug. "Right, I left them over at Sally's place."
He called her Sally now. Such a tender, intimate nickname.
I nodded slowly. "It doesn't matter. You left your heart over there too, didn't you?"
Michael's brow furrowed in annoyance.
"Stop talking nonsensical rubbish. You are my girlfriend, not her."
I raised an eyebrow, letting out a sharp chuckle.
"Really, Michael? Would you dare say those exact words out loud in the conference room, right in front of Sarah?"
He froze, letting out a heavy, tired sigh.
"Laura, can we please just talk?"
He opened the shoe cabinet, acting out of old habit to grab his slippers, but found the rack completely empty.
"Where are my slip..."
He cut himself off mid-sentence. His face turned pale as a sheet, and he slammed the cabinet door shut, visibly flustered.
"I'm sorry," he softened his tone. "I know I've neglected you lately."
I shook my head quietly. "It's fine. We're broken up anyway."
Michael snapped his head up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Since when? I don't agree to this!"
I tilted my chin up, meeting his gaze head-on. "Now."
"I thought you were just..."
"Thought I was what? Thought I was just throwing a childish tantrum to blow off steam?"
I cut him off, my voice ice cold. "Michael, hear me clearly. I am breaking up with you.
"On top of that, every single one of those 600 bylines you took from me, I want them back, down to the last article."
Michael's face turned thunderous.
"Are you out of your mind? They are just a few silly bylines! Once Sarah gets her transfer, every single front page slot will be yours again.
"Laura, are you seriously throwing away our entire relationship over something so trivial?"
He ran a hand through his hair in deep frustration, his tone turning sharp and defensive. "Can't you sacrifice just a little bit for our shared future?"
His sheer shamelessness left me utterly stunned.
"So you get to sacrifice all my hard work?"
Mistaking my shock for hesitation, Michael immediately softened his expression, stepping closer.
"We are a team, Laura. What's yours is mine. Do you really think I haven't sacrificed anything for us?"
I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
"And what exactly did you sacrifice? Your body? Your feelings? Your sweet, empty lies?
"Tell me, Michael, is sleeping with Sarah and whispering sweet nothings in her ear just another part of helping her build her resume?"
"You!" He turned livid, completely choked by his own hypocrisy.
I turned my back on him and resumed packing.
My hard shell suitcase was tucked away on the highest shelf of the closet, a spot far out of my reach. Years ago, when we first moved in together, Michael had put it up there himself.
Back then, he had squinted at me with a warm, playful grin. "If I put it way up there, you won't be able to storm out when we get into a fight."
Now, I looked at the suitcase sitting high above me and just brought over a ladder.
When someone truly decided to leave, no high shelf in the world could keep them grounded.
"That's dangerous; let me handle it," Michael sighed, taking the ladder from my hands.
At that exact moment, a sharp, frantic scream echoed from the stairwell outside.
"Ah! Mike, help me!"
Without a second thought, Michael dropped the ladder and bolted toward the hallway.
I didn't have time to dodge. The heavy wooden ladder and the tumbling hard shell suitcase crashed directly onto my forehead.
A sharp, searing pain exploded across my face, and warm blood began trickling into the corner of my eye. It hurt agonizingly, but the pain in my chest was a thousand times worse.
Tears mixed with crimson blood, dripping rhythmically onto the hardwood floor.
I let out a bitter, self-deprecating smile.
Just seconds ago, a foolish, desperate part of me had still hoped that he really cared.
- Writer
