Chapter 2

I locked the car doors, sat in the driver’s seat, and started the engine.

Just then, an email notification popped up on my phone. My resignation was officially approved.

HR emailed me:

*“Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors, Chloe.”*

I stared at the confirmation screen and typed back a simple, *“Thank you.”*

A second later, my phone vibrated.

It was a voice message from Austin.

"Where did you drive the car? Get back here right now."

I paused.

Looking at our chat history, there was a long list of unread messages from me that he had ignored. This rare moment of him taking the initiative to text me felt almost surreal.

But before I could even process it, his next message popped up:

"Go buy a set of electric screwdrivers and bring them over. Brooke doesn’t have any here."

I stared at the screen for a few seconds.

So, he hadn't suddenly realized I wasn't behind him.

He only noticed my absence because he needed someone to run his errands.

I scrolled up through our chat history. Every single message from him was about Brooke.

*“Give that perfume set you brought back from Paris to Brooke. I’ll buy you a new one later.”*

*“Brooke said she wanted Japanese food. I already used your card to book a table for her.”*

Austin’s texts to me were always demands.

He made the decisions, and he never once thought to ask for my opinion.

Then there was the most recent message from a rainy day. I had texted him asking if he could pick me up from the subway station.

He replied: *“I’m out meeting clients right now. Just take an Uber.”*

But five minutes later, Brooke posted a photo on her Instagram.

An umbrella was tilted entirely over her, shielding her as she got into the passenger seat of a car.

*“Almost got stuck in the storm. Thank God for my personal chauffeur,”* her caption read.

I knew the car's interior all too well. It was Austin's.

Back then, I kept telling myself that he was just trying to help me build a good relationship with my boss. I thought he was doing it for my career.

But my constant understanding only made him push the boundaries further.

This time, I didn't reply.

While I was packing up my desk at the office, another text from Austin came in:

"Why aren't you back yet? Brooke wanted French food, so I took her to the restaurant first. Just Uber over and meet us."

This wasn’t the first time.

Whenever we made plans to eat out, if I was even slightly late because of work or traffic, Austin would lose his temper and blame me.

He never cared about my feelings.

"Brooke is your boss. She’s under a lot of pressure, so it’s normal for her to have a bad temper. What’s the big deal if she snaps at you a little? Stop being so dramatic."

*Stop being so dramatic.*

That was also what he said when a pipe burst in my apartment, flooding the entire place. I had called him in a panic.

And he had said: "I don't have time to deal with that. Just call a plumber yourself. Stop being so dramatic."

So, I learned to dry the carpets, change the light bulbs, and fix things on my own. I slowly learned to stop relying on him.

But when it came to Brooke, he was a completely different person.

"Brooke is always so busy with work. If she needs help around her house, I'll just handle it. Since she lives so close to Chloe, it’s on my way anyway."

I couldn't understand.

Why was helping me "being dramatic," but helping Brooke was "just on his way"?

I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and texted him back: *“You guys go ahead. I’m busy.”*

It took him an hour to reply:

*“Are you throwing a tantrum again? Chloe, grow up. Stop acting like a child.”*

I used to throw tantrums.

Last winter, I had a terrible fever in the middle of the night. Shivering under the blankets, I called him and asked him to bring me some medicine.

He told me he was on his way to Brooke’s party because Brooke had had too much to drink, and he needed to bring her painkillers and electrolyte drinks.

I told him I was really sick too.

He stayed silent for two seconds before saying, "You can still make phone calls, so it can't be that bad. Just call an Uber to the ER. It’s a twenty-minute drive. Hang in there."

That was the first time I felt I couldn't take it anymore.

He was my boyfriend, yet I was never his priority.

I broke up with him that night.

But he didn't even argue. He just blocked my number.

He knew I loved him too much. He knew I couldn't leave him.

So, he let me cry for two days straight until my tears ran dry. And then, like a fool, I went back to him.

Since then, I had never thrown another tantrum.

But this time was different.

I wasn't throwing a tantrum. I was done.

***

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