Damian Graves and I had been together for ten years, and he was perfect in every way.

He was handsome, successful, and driven, except for one thing. He never missed a chance to cut me down.

I placed second in the competition instead of first, and he said I "wasn't smart enough." I finally earned my first paycheck from writing, and he dismissed it as "completely worthless."

Later, standing in the bridal shop, Damian looked me up and down in my wedding dress and told me my figure was not good enough, that I did not look anything like a bride should.

Something in me snapped. For the first time in ten years, I screamed at him. "If I'm not good enough for you, why are you even marrying me?"

In the bridal boutique, when I stepped out of the fitting room, even strangers nearby gasped.

The sales associate smiled. "Ms. Jones, you're so tall and slim. This wedding dress looks absolutely stunning on you.”

"Go show your fiancé. He's going to love it."

I smiled back. "I wouldn't be so sure. He has very high standards."

After over ten years together, Damian Graves always held me to impossibly high standards and never once praised me.

Yet today, looking at myself in the mirror with my slender waist and fair skin, I thought I looked perfect in this dress.

I thought maybe Damian would like it. Would he compliment me? Would he think I was beautiful? Would he be stunned speechless like the other grooms in the shop?

With that hope building inside me, I nervously tugged at the corner of his sleeve. The next moment, my expectations shattered.

Damian turned to look at me, his eyes traveling up and down. The first words out of his mouth were, "Elara, you're still too fat."

My smile froze. Even the sales associate beside us looked uncomfortable.

"Your face is puffy, your arms are thick, you have a big frame, and your waist is too wide. It doesn't look good at all."

Damian sighed. "Elara, you don't look anything like a bride in this dress."

His voice was not loud, but just loud enough for everyone in the store to hear.

Different gazes landed on me, pitying, mocking, curious.

In that moment, I felt like nothing more than an object for Damian to inspect, not a person.

Tears pooled in my eyes. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe.

I had exercised every single day just to fit into this dress, following his demands. For three months, I ate almost nothing. I worked so hard to lose 24 pounds, all so I could look good at the wedding.

Why did he still have to say these things?

Maybe the hunger from all those months made me emotionally fragile, or maybe the feeling of crushed expectations was simply unbearable.

Either way, in that moment, after enduring for ten long years, I could not bear it any longer.

I tore off the veil and screamed at him for the first time. "Damian Graves, if I'm not good enough for you, don't marry me!”

"Fine. I don't look like a bride, so I'm not getting married!"

Under Damian's shocked gaze, I took a deep breath and finally said the words that had circled through my mind countless times.

"Damian, let's break up."

By the time my best friend Lily Hayes came to pick me up, my tears still had not stopped. The moment I posted about canceling the wedding, everyone flooded me with messages asking what happened.

The most common response was, "Elara, did you and Damian have some kind of misunderstanding?"

"He's such a great guy. If you let him go, you'll regret it."

Even my mom took Damian's side. "I heard from Damian about what happened. It's just a small thing. No need to take it to heart."

Damian only sent me three words. "Stop being dramatic."

I stared at my phone as a sense of powerlessness spread through me. No one understood me.

After all, in everyone's eyes, Damian Graves was the perfect boyfriend.

He was good-looking, skilled, and thriving. In our ten years together, he never strayed. However, if he had a flaw, it was how he enjoyed belittling me.

We were childhood friends who grew up together. He was the golden child, the one who excelled at everything, better than me in every way.

Still, life was fair. While it gave him talent, it also gave him a broken family.

His mother died young. His father was a workaholic who rarely paid attention to him, only noticing when Damian won some award.

Damian matured unusually early because of this.

While the other kids in the neighborhood were still playing in the mud, Damian was already competing in math Olympiads and winning awards.

His unfortunate family shaped Damian into someone cold and distant. Only with me did he show his sharp-tongued side.

When I placed second instead of first, he would tap my head and call me "not smart enough." He would point at my mistakes and snap, "Why can't you get such a simple problem right?"

When I only won bronze at a competition while he took gold, he would glance at me with disappointment and coldly label me a "blockhead."

Throughout my youth, Mom's favorite refrain was, "Look at Damian. So outstanding, always coming in first, winning so many awards he can't even keep track."

I grew up in Damian's shadow. I hated how he always made me feel worthless. I hated how Mom constantly compared me to him.

Yet back then, everyone said Damian and I were just "bickering lovebirds." They said the way Damian treated me proved he liked me.

Even when Damian confessed, he said, "Elara, if I didn't like you, would I hold you to such high standards?"

It was the first time he spoke to me so gently. His expression softened, his eyes full of warmth and laughter.

The cheers around us drowned out the discomfort stirring in my chest. Just like that, I ended up together with Damian in a daze.

That daze lasted ten years.

Lily was my closest friend in college and the only person who supported my breakup.

Back in college, Damian once asked me to meet him at the library to study.

Waking up at seven on a weekend was no easy task. Even though I rushed as fast as I could, I was still two minutes late.

Damian stood there with his arms crossed, clearly displeased. "Elara, why do you have zero sense of time?”

"When you start working and meet clients, will you be late like this as well? What if there's a multi-million dollar deal at stake?"

I instinctively wanted to apologize, but Lily, returning from her morning run, pulled me behind her.

"Making her wake up early on a weekend to study with you is already cruel. The fact that Elara even showed up is impressive.”

"And she's only two minutes late. Do you really need to blow this out of proportion?"

After that day, Damian and Lily's relationship soured.

Lily loved praising me. She praised me for having the second-highest GPA, praised me for passing my language exams, even praised me for waking up early for eight o'clock classes.

She would say, "Don't listen to Damian. Our Elara is the best!"

That kind of affirmation was something I had never received in my entire life. That was why I loved spending time with Lily.

Damian scoffed at it. "She praises you just to make you arrogant so you can't see your own flaws.”

"Humility leads to self-reflection. When I point out your shortcomings directly, that's what's truly good for you!"

Whenever Lily came up, Damian would furrow his brow and press his lips into a tight line.

I knew this meant he was in a bad mood. Every time he made that expression, I would end up getting scolded.

I wanted to argue back, to tell him Lily was not like that. But fear spread through me without reason, rooting me in place.

I was too afraid. I was afraid of Damian's anger, afraid of his criticism.

When Lily heard about this, she only sighed softly. "Elara, when someone's been beaten down for so long, it's hard for them to break free.

"Take it slow."

So today, when she heard I finally decided to break up with Damian, Lily was especially happy.

She hugged me and said gently, "Congratulations, Elara. You're finally free."

Lily brought me to her place and allowed me to stay in the guest room temporarily.

She led me inside, her eyes bright. "Elara, do you like the room? I decorated it based on everything you love!"

I looked at the pink wallpaper, the desk with cartoon characters, and the doll with pigtails sitting on the bed. I felt dazed.

How long had it been since I last saw things like this after moving in with Damian?

Damian was a minimalist. His place was all black, white, and gray.

As for my love of pink and stuffed animals, he would only scoff and mock me. "Elara, your taste is so tacky."

At the thought, my tears fell again. I clung to Lily, sobbing.

If Damian was a nightmare in my life that I failed to recognize, then Lily was probably heaven's way of making it up to me.

I went to the apartment Damian and I were supposed to share after the wedding to pack my things.

When I arrived, I did not expect Damian to already be there.

He sat on the couch, barely looking up. "Done throwing your tantrum? Back now?"

I tried hard to steady my trembling voice. "I'm not throwing a tantrum, Damian. I'm serious about breaking up.”

"I came back to pack my things."

Surprisingly, Damian said nothing. He just sat there quietly, legs crossed, hands folded, watching me with an almost mocking smile. I suppressed the discomfort rising in my chest and started packing.

I did not have much that truly belonged to me, only a few items. Most of what I owned, Damian bought for me after I moved in.

When we first started living together, he looked at my colorful cups and towels and frowned.

"Elara, why is your stuff so tacky? It looks hideous."

The next day, he replaced everything.

When I tried to confront him, he said dismissively, "Your things are too cheap and tasteless, so I replaced them."

That was the first time I wanted to end things. I couldn't grasp why personal preferences had to be labeled as high or low, classy or tacky.

However, Mom talked me out of it. "If Damian likes you, just let him have his way. You've been together for so many years. You can't break up over something so small."

That time, I gave in. It took me a long time to realize it was not a small thing at all.

Anything that makes one uncomfortable should never be treated as a small thing.

The only part of this place I felt connected to was the corner where I wrote. There sat a desk, a lamp, and a computer. From that corner, I crafted countless works.

I loved writing since I was young, but Damian always accused me of "wasting time on useless things," so I put that hobby aside.

It was not until college, when I had more free time, that I started writing again. Damian was my first reader.

I was so excited, hoping he would praise my work. But after reading it, he only said coldly, "What you wrote is complete nonsense. It's worthless.”

"Elara, you have no talent for writing. Give it up."

Still, I loved writing too much. For the first time, I did not listen to him.

I kept writing, and eventually, I made something of it.

When I received my first payment, I showed it off to Damian with a little pride. "I got paid for my writing! 300 dollars!"

I wanted to prove to him that people read what I wrote, that they were even willing to pay for it. I wanted to prove I was not as terrible as he said.

What was Damian's reaction that time?

He skimmed through my work quickly, barely glancing at it, then delivered his verdict.

"It's completely worthless."

He looked down at me, his eyes full of mockery. "There are still kind people in this world. They probably gave you money just to encourage a beginner.”

"You really think you're good at this?"

Every word became a blade, popping the bubble of hope in my heart and leaving behind a festering, oozing wound.

After that, no matter how much money I made from writing, I never told Damian again.

I took a deep breath and reached for my computer, only to notice it was still on. When I opened the screen, all my saved drafts had disappeared!

I had a hundred thousand words saved. Every single word was carefully chosen, typed out after endless deliberation. The amount of effort poured into it was beyond words.

I checked the recycle bin and searched through the document history.

There was nothing. They were all gone!

Only one person would do something like this.

Damian's voice suddenly came from behind me. He leaned against the doorway, watching me with unreadable eyes.

"I deleted what you wrote. That useless garbage is what's getting ideas in your head.”

"You don't actually think you can leave me and survive on your own with that worthless trash, do you?"