Chapter 4

I sat in the car all night, staring at Adam’s “Whatever” text. Scrolling up, I saw just how many more messages I sent compared to him, including all the money I transferred to him. Most of my messages were about what he wanted to eat, where he wanted to go, or me sharing news about my day.

Adam either responded with “Whatever” or not at all.

Scrolling further up, I saw that for the past six months, almost every conversation was one-sided, with me talking and him barely responding.

I sighed softly. His indifference to me was painfully clear.

I watched as the night turned into sunrise.

Once Adam left for school, I returned to our apartment near his campus, where we lived together after we started dating.

Clothes were strewn carelessly on the sofa. I threw them into the washing machine and then started preparing dinner. Lost in thought, I accidentally cut my finger. Blood quickly pooled on the floor.

When Adam came home, I was holding a tissue tightly around my finger. He didn’t look at me, only glanced at the table and frowned.

He sat down without a second thought, picking through the food disdainfully. To him, maybe I was like the meal, becoming tiresome.

“Adam…”

Adam responded with a distracted “Yeah,” while still texting on his phone, a pleased smile on his face.

“I need to go out,” I said, feeling a mixture of anger and sadness as I looked at my bleeding finger, tears beginning to well up.

“Adam…”

All I wanted was for him to look at me. But all I got was another careless “Yeah.”

I sniffed, wiping my eyes before heading to the pharmacy downstairs. The young girl there looked alarmed. “The cut's deep. Let me wrap it up, but you really should see a doctor.”

I shook my head and left.

Back at home, as I pushed open the door, a sickly sweet “Adam, you’re amazing” echoed in the living room.

Adam quickly paused the voice message, awkwardly looking up. “Where’s my blue shirt? I want to wear it tomorrow.”

He then continued eating as if nothing happened.

In the mirror at the entrance, I saw my swollen eyes and pale face. Tears threatened to spill, a wave of sadness washing over me.

Taking a deep breath, I composed myself and sat down across from Adam. “Yesterday was our three-year anniversary. Do you want a gift?”

His phone kept buzzing with messages from “sweet pie,” probably the young girl he fancied.

Adam flipped his phone face-down, irritation in his voice, “I don’t know. Nothing, I guess.”

I took out the phone box. “I got you something. The latest Apple phone you’ve been wanting.”

Adam’s eyes lit up, but just as he reached for it, my phone rang. In the silent room, my mom’s voice was loud and clear.

“You’re almost 40. I’ve introduced you to some good prospects. If you don’t plan on marrying, what is it you want? You keep saying you have a boyfriend, but I’ve never even seen him!”

Instinctively, I looked at Adam. He lowered his eyes, looking guilty. After a few curt responses, I hung up the call. Adam had pushed the phone box back to me, looking resigned.

Taking the box, I smiled. “If you don’t want it, forget it. Are you full? This dinner was for our anniversary, and it’s also our last meal together.”

Looking into his eyes, I said calmly, “Adam, let’s break up.”