There was a time when every argument I had with him about his relationship with Isabella ended with him patiently explaining that they were just friends, that nothing had happened, and that I was just overthinking things. At least back then, he’d give me some kind of response, even though his words never felt sincere.

But eventually, he stopped saying anything at all.

I was the one who would spiral, my emotions erupting like a volcano, only to quietly cool down afterward.

And now, I finally understand, and I’ve let go.

Looking back at myself then, I must have seemed like a madwoman. Every time I broke down, I must’ve looked awful.

No wonder Daniel got frustrated with me.

In that moment, I didn’t want to ask him anything. I just wanted to sleep.

He stared at me for a while, and when I didn’t react, he softly called my name, “Olivia?”

I pretended to be sound asleep, keeping my eyes tightly shut and not moving.

After a while, he finally left.

I heard the sound of running water from the bathroom—he must’ve gone to wash up. The sound was surprisingly soothing, and as it trickled on, I unknowingly drifted off to sleep. I didn’t even notice when he climbed into bed.

The next morning, I woke up early and went straight to the office.

The entire day, I immersed myself in work, and the hours flew by in a blur.

After work, I ate dinner alone before returning home.

As soon as I walked in, I saw Daniel sitting on the couch.

“Why are you home so early?” I asked as I took off my shoes.

“No overtime,” he replied.

“Oh.” I nodded, hung up my bag, and was about to head to the study.

“Olivia,” Daniel called out, “I already bought your birthday gift, and I wanted to give it to you yesterday…”

“Thank you!” I took the beautifully wrapped box from his hands.

Inside was a delicate bracelet.

“It’s lovely. I like it,” I smiled at him. “I’ll wear it tomorrow.”

As I turned to leave, Daniel suddenly grabbed my arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said hesitantly. “I couldn’t keep my promise yesterday. When I was almost at the restaurant, Isabella called. Her ex-boyfriend started stalking her again, and she was really scared. She lives alone, and it’s not safe—”

“I understand,” I interrupted calmly. “She shouldn’t have to face danger alone. You’ve mentioned before that her ex has unstable emotions. It’s fine, let’s not talk about this anymore. I still have some work left. I’m going to the study.”

“Olivia!” He didn’t let go of my arm.

“Hmm?” I turned back to look at him.

“I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Oh, I already ate. You can order takeout,” I said, gently pulling my arm out of his grip and walking toward the study.

Just as I sat down, I heard the door slam shut.

I got up and walked out to find that Daniel was already gone.

He brought the gift and even apologized, but I didn’t take the opportunity to respond gently. He must’ve gotten upset.

From that moment on, Daniel and I were once again in a silent standoff.

In the past, during such silent treatments, I would spiral into anxiety, trying desperately to think of ways to reconcile with him.

But now, after a few days of silence, I actually felt a strange sense of relief.

Daniel was sleeping in the guest room, and I was alone, enjoying the vast expanse of the bed. I slept more soundly than I had in a while.

In the mornings, I no longer woke up early to make breakfast for him. Sleeping an extra half hour had become my little indulgence.

At work, I didn’t constantly think about Daniel, nor did I text him all the time. I even realized that my work efficiency had improved significantly.

Tasks that I used to scramble to finish at the last minute, I was now able to complete ahead of schedule.

After work, I no longer felt the need to rush home to cook.

To make sure Daniel ate healthily, I’d once spent a lot of time learning how to cook, preparing meals every evening.

But he was always busy with work and social events, so it was a miracle if he managed to come home for dinner twice a week.

No longer revolving around him, I finally discovered that I had a lot of free time.

During this period, I binge-watched an entire TV series, finishing it in just three nights.

At the office, I overheard a new hire talking about preparing for a qualification exam related to our work. A wave of shame washed over me.

She had just graduated and was already thinking ahead about self-improvement. Meanwhile, I'd been in this industry for years and still felt lost, drifting aimlessly, with no clear direction. The only person I could blame was myself for being so consumed by daydreams of love.

After graduation, I had one simple dream—marrying Daniel.

Yet here I am, still waiting for that dream to come true.

Back then, my entire life revolved around Daniel. For him, I once fantasized about quitting my job to become a full-time housewife, if he asked me to after marriage. To my younger self, taking care of the family, raising kids, and living life with Daniel was the ultimate happiness.

But looking back now, I realize how much of a failure I was.

In love, I gave so much but received nothing in return. Daniel wouldn’t even offer me a single promise about marriage.

As for my career, I was still stuck, with no progress in sight.

Then, just when I felt like giving up, the new hire reignited a long-lost determination in me. Her hard work and drive reminded me that I couldn’t continue down this path of self-destruction.

I decided to change. I began asking my colleagues for advice, buying study materials, and preparing for the qualification exam. After work, I stopped wasting time. Instead, I buried myself in my study materials, reading until I was too exhausted to continue.

In the past few days, Daniel seemed to still be angry with me, coming home late every night. This, however, gave me the peace I needed to focus on my studies.

One afternoon during my break, I checked my Status Update idly and saw that Daniel had posted something. There were no words, just a photo. On the dining table were several dishes, two sets of chopsticks, and at the edge of the table, a hand was visible. I could just make out the watch I had once given him on his wrist.

I knew Daniel too well—he posted this picture on purpose, wanting me to see it, to let me know he was having dinner with Isabella.

Strangely, I felt no anger or jealousy. I no longer had the impulse to call him and demand an explanation.

I glanced at the picture, then tossed my phone aside and continued scrolling through other updates.

Later that evening, Daniel called.

“I’ll pick you up after work.”

His tone was flat, emotionless.

My first instinct was to refuse.

“No need. I have to work late tonight. I’ll be home later.” I lied, without thinking.

“How late?” he asked calmly.

“Umm, eight o’clock,” I lied again.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you downstairs at eight,” he said, before hanging up.

To cover up my lie, I didn’t leave immediately. Instead, I took out my study materials and stayed in the office, reading until it was time to go. At eight, I packed up, grabbed my bag, and headed downstairs.

When I walked out of the building, I saw the familiar car parked not far away.

I approached it and opened the door. Isabella smiled at me from the passenger seat.

“Olivia, I just had dinner with Daniel. He’s giving me a ride home,” she said, her tone light, even a little smug.

“Mm.” I replied indifferently and walked around to sit in the backseat.

Every time Isabella sat in that car, I refused to sit in the passenger seat. I had argued with Daniel about this more than once, but he always sided with Isabella, saying she got car sick and the front seat was the only place she could sit.

I had tried to explain that the passenger seat was meant for his girlfriend, but he always dismissed me, saying I was overreacting.

I had never won that argument with Isabella. Every time she sat in the front seat, I couldn’t help but feel upset.

But now, I couldn’t bring myself to care about it anymore.