Caleb didn't leave, nor did he agree to break up.
Didn't matter though. I wasn't asking for his permission. I was telling him how it was gonna be.
He rented a place next door.
Every single day, three meals a day, rain or shine, he'd show up with food he'd cooked himself. Stuff he knew I used to love.
Flowers showed up every couple days too, with little paper cranes tucked in the bouquets.
Every single one of 'em went straight in the trash.
One morning, after my rehab session, I went out to the little garden to check on my plants.
Caleb was standing outside the fence, holding a bag from Maggie's Bakery, the little shop we used to hit up all the time in college.
His voice was all desperate and pleading. "Mila, I know you're angry. I know you hate me. But while you're recovering, can
