Five Years Later, We Are No Longer in Love

On our third anniversary, while my boyfriend, Chris Walker, was out throwing a party for his childhood friend Chloe Kade, he texted me to pick him up.

I arrived early and just happened to see him and Chloe doing a drinking ritual, surrounded by his cheering friends.

When Chloe saw me, her eyes welled up with tears.

"Ashley, I'm sorry, I lost at truth or dare just now. Please don't blame Chris."

Chris patiently comforted her for a long time before turning to me with a frown.

"It's just a game, no need to make it ugly, Ashley, you should be nicer."

I couldn't help but laugh; it seemed it was time to consider a breakup.

Everyone in the room turned to look at me, nervously anticipating the drama.

I had seen enough of these scenes; the passion I once felt had finally cooled.

Calmly, I walked up to them and suddenly raised my hand, startling Chloe.

"What are you scared of? I'm not going to hit you."

I threw the car keys onto the table in front of them, making a harsh clinking sound.

Chloe startled like a frightened rabbit, collapsed into Chris's arms, openly challenging me.

Yet, she managed to look utterly terrified of me, biting her lower lip pitifully at Chris.

"Chris, I think Ashley is furious. What should I do? I didn't mean to make things difficult for you. I'm so sorry, Chris."

Chris, heartbroken, tenderly reassured her, "Don't cry, it's not a big deal, our Coco crying wouldn't look good."

"Ashley, I apologize to Coco. It's my fault for spoiling you this much over the years."

I couldn't bear to look at him anymore, grabbing the half-bottle of beer left on the table and downing it.

The alcohol reminded me of the past.

Chris used to be all about me, unable to stand anyone stirring trouble between us.

Now, I had changed in his eyes, and he was no longer the Chris who loved me so deeply.

"Ashley, what are you doing? Who let you drink? How will you drive Coco and me home now?"

Chloe hid in Chris's arms, smirking as Chris frowned and scolded me.

I couldn't be bothered to argue.

"Chris, let's break up. I haven't sunk low enough to start picking up trash."

Chris laughed absurdly, his confusion tinged with deep anger.

"Ashley, enough. Who are you calling trash?"

My eyes were dry, yet not a single tear fell.

My words came out cold.

"No difference, all the same."

Chloe, as if deeply insulted, ran out crying, her eyes swollen. Chris's face darkened, his gaze fiery.

"Isn't this enough? This time, if you don't apologize to Coco, I won't forgive you," he said, grabbing the keys and chasing after her.

I brushed away the tears that laughter had brought to my eyes.

Indeed, men were born fickle, always thinking of the next best thing.

Chris didn't return until dawn the next day, his face showing slight satisfaction, a faint scent of soap on his body.

He sat down beside me and casually presented a small bunch of roses from his bag.

"Ashley, still angry?"

I glanced at them, wilted, probably having been at Chloe's for days.

And roses, Chloe's favorite flower, yet my least liked.

I flicked the flowers into the trash can at my feet, then repeatedly wiped my fingers that had touched the flowers with an alcohol wipe.

"I'll move out in a few days once I find a place."

Perhaps my attitude greatly provoked him; he scowled and furiously swept the breakfast off the table in front of me.

His eyes blazed uncontrollably with anger as he forcefully grabbed my wrist, making me face him.

"Ashley, I've apologized already. What more do you want? I'm warning you! Don't push it too far."

I broke free from his grip with an impatient expression, kicked the ceramic pieces out of my way, and turned to leave.

To be honest, I really felt disgust for Chris.

Just like the unmistakable scent of Chloe's perfume that clings to him when he gets close.

We were adults; he should know when to stop.

Three months ago, when he came home from a function, I found a lipstick mark on his collar that wasn't mine.

The sweet taste of lip gloss was popular among young girls.

At that moment, I realized the cracks were beginning to form in what I thought was a solid relationship, which only worsened over time.

But I didn't just leave when I discovered it.

Because I couldn't detach myself like Chris, nor could I erase years of emotions in an instant.

I couldn't leave him when I loved him the most; otherwise, I'd surely regret it on some later night, sinking into a deep self-loathing.

Chris had just made a mistake that any man might make.

So, before leaving him, I needed to exhaust all my feelings completely.

This process would take time, but leaving him was a decision I made that night.

.....

Half an hour later, Chris came over with a new breakfast.

Facing the bright sunlight, I was contemplating a painting for a competition.

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders from behind and held the breakfast up to me.

"Ashley, I'm sorry, it was my fault earlier. I made you a new breakfast, try it."

I pushed his wrist away with my paintbrush, breakfast included.

It was spaghetti with garlic and olive oil. Chloe once posted it on social media. [The love of my life made my favorite spaghetti; it's more than twice the happiness.]

Her favorite was spaghetti with garlic and olive oil, and I detested the overwhelming smell of garlic.

Chris had never used to cook with garlic; now, it seemed he had been completely forgotten.

Even though I was clearly not giving him a warm reception, he didn't seem upset and just set the breakfast aside.

He nodded and kissed my cheek.

"Not to your taste? What would you like? I'll make something else."

"No need."

I turned and stood up, pushing him away with the end of my paintbrush.

"Chris, stop deluding yourself. You know what I mean."

He looked up at me, the annoyance in his eyes intensifying.

"Are you serious? What about Billy? You could leave it..."

The tension in my head finally snapped.

I moved closer, my eyes bloodshot with hatred, almost as if I could tear him apart, uncontrollably crying and trembling.

"Chris, shut up, Billy... it's dead!"